I rub my forehead and blow out a slow breath. “I cook. It’s not just my profession, it’s my passion. When a shipment of fresh, local produce arrives, it gives me a ridiculous high. I can’t wait to create something pleasing to both the palate and the eye. When I’m not cooking, I’m reading food blogs. When I’m not doing that, I’m on my Harley or walking dogs from the animal shelter because I did it with Addy, and…” I shrug “…it’s just something I’ve continued to do.”

Avery lifts her head.

Without taking a breath, I continue. “I like space, the infinity I see through my telescope. It makes my troubles feel insignificant. I like old sayings, but not as much as I like new ideas.”

“What are your troubles?” Avery whispers. Worry shrouds her sunny blue eyes, turning them blue-gray like an impending storm.

“Memories.”

Her teeth brush her lower lip several times as the lines on her forehead intensify. “I like baseball and peanuts. I love peanuts. The saltier, the better. I mean … I want to tell you that I love to travel, watch Broadway shows, spend warm afternoons at vineyards sipping wine and eating bruschetta … but those are things I’ve done with men. Wealthy men. I’m not wealthy. In fact …” Avery frowns. “I’m dirt poor at the moment. I can usually snag tickets from friends at work to see a baseball game. Peanuts are in my budget. And when I’m by myself—alone—I like …”

I wait.

She stares at her feet swinging from the table in a slow rhythm.

“You like …”

Avery’s nose wrinkles. “These videos.”

“Videos?”

“Never mind. Forget it. It’s dumb.” Her cheeks flush as she glances around the laundromat, looking everywhere but directly at me.

“Ave, are you into porn?” I push off the wall of dryers and wedge my body between her dangling legs.

Giving me a quick headshake, she presses her lips into a firm line and continues to survey our surroundings.

My hands squeeze her legs, forcing her mouth into a tiny smile. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll be forced to think your favorite past time is watching porn.”

“What if that’s it?” She halts her wandering gaze, focused on mine. “What if all I enjoy is shopping and long afternoons at the salon? What if I’ve never stuck a dime in the red kettle at Christmastime or paid it forward? What if my favorite foreplay is watching other people have sex? Does that deflate your tree-loving heart? Does it take a little more effort to get an erection for me?”

I grin.