For some reason, that made her lower lip tremble. “What does that make you, then?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Oh, I didn’t say I wasn’t an idiot.”

Becca chuckled, hugging her arms to her chest. Well, at least he wasn’t denying that.

“I just . . . I hate that he hurt you.” Greg reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, warm and friendly. “Whether you believe it or not, we’ve been friends for even longer than we were romantic, and I still want to be your friend. I miss you.”

That touched her. He was right; they’d been friends since childhood, having both grown up in the small town. It was hard to hate Greg, especially when he was obviously trying his best to reach out to her. Suddenly having him as a friend again sounded really, really nice.

“And if I’m honest,” Greg continued, “my hair has never looked worse and my stylist won’t see me.”

She laughed, and then suddenly she was laughing and crying both. He tugged her into a hug and she let him hold her, stroking her back. Of course, she compared that hug to the ones Hank gave her and found it lacking. Everything about Greg was lacking when compared to Hank, really. He wasn’t as big and strong, didn’t smell as nice, didn’t hold her as firmly. She missed Hank. God, she missed him so, so much. Breaking up with Greg for the final time had been upsetting, but she’d been outraged and betrayed.

With the breakup with Hank? She just felt so hollow. Like she’d never be happy again. Funny how one person could bring so much light into her world so quickly . . .

And then just as quickly take it away again.

For a moment—for a crazy, brief moment—she wanted to call Hank and tell him that she’d changed her mind. That a hair salon wasn’t worth her happiness and she’d go to Alaska with him. She’d give it a shot, living out in the rough, even though it wasn’t the life she wanted. Suddenly, a life without Hank and Libby didn’t seem like one she wanted, either.

But she’d confessed her love to him and had gotten nothing in return. He hadn’t even called.

So she was just . . . sad. Clingy, like everyone always said.

Becca sighed.

A hand squeezed her ass and Greg buried his face against her hair. “I’ve missed you.”

Becca froze. She jerked away and gave him a look of shock. “Did you come here to cop a feel? To scoop up the pieces and see if you could get laid? Seriously, Greg?” Why did she keep thinking a tiger would ever change its stripes?

“Sorry?” he said, posing it more as a question than a statement. He wasn’t sorry, just saying whatever would defuse her anger.