“When?” she demanded. “When you’re volunteering all over town? When you’re coaching children in Pee Wee so that they can have a good male role model? When you’re putting yourself in legal jeopardy hacking into assholes’ computers so that you can keep them from hurting their families by ruining them on the front page of the Ledger? When are you an SOB, Diesel? When?”

He exhaled. “Well, I curse at telemarketers. Especially the ones who tell me that they work for Microsoft and that my computer needs fixing.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Then snorted. “No fair making me laugh.”

He grinned. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Her smile disappeared, and she pulled free. “No. It just delayed the inevitable.”

Diesel sighed. “All right. Hit me with exhibit two.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m being serious.”

He met her eyes soberly. “So am I. Tell me, Dani. Tell me why I shouldn’t care about you. Tell me why I shouldn’t fall in love with you.”

She sucked in a startled breath. “Diesel.”

He shrugged. “I’m tired of pining away like a lovesick teenager. I’m putting it on the table.”

“You can’t love me.”

“Not right now, because—as you’ve so succinctly established—I don’t know you. But I believe I could.” He gestured with his hand. “Bring it on, Dr. Novak.”

She huffed angrily. “You are a frustrating man.”

“I know,” he said dryly. But she was still here, so he hadn’t fucked it up yet.

She cocked her jaw. “Adrian.”

He swallowed. “Your lover. Who died.” He managed a calm nod even though everything inside of him wanted to lash out at the man she still . . . what? Loved?

“He was my fiancé.”

Diesel blinked. That was unexpected. “So, more than a lover.”

“Yes. Another thing I never told Deacon.”

He tilted his head at that. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because he wouldn’t have approved, and then Adrian was dead.” She pursed her lips. “And I was HIV positive, so telling him that my fiancé had given it to me made me look even stupider than if I’d gotten it doing drugs or making a mistake with a casual boyfriend, which is what I did tell them. Deacon, Greg, and Adam, I mean.”

Diesel shook his head. “Wait. I missed something. Maybe several things.” He ran his palm over his head, felt the stubble scratch his skin. “First, saying you were stupid is victim-shaming. Would you do that to a patient?”

“No, but—”

He held up his hand. “No buts. You were not stupid. Especially since contracting HIV from someone you should have been able to trust wasn’t stupidity. It was a betrayal.”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “You don’t know the details.”

He’d hit a nerve, he could see. “Maybe not, but you were engaged, right?”

“Yes.” Her chin lifted. “I told you that already.”