“Sure.” She smiles at me. “I’m glad because we need to have a little conversation anyway.”

Her smile falters just enough to make me concerned. This is not where I thought this was going, I don’t think.

“What’s up?” I ask, hoping it sounds as cool as I intended.

She takes a long, deep breath. “I kissed you—”

“And I loved it.”

Her shoulders fall. “It was impulsive.”

“It was spontaneous. That is, unless you’ve been thinking about it for days like I have. I’ve basically walked through that kiss a hundred times, so it was less spontaneity and more dream-to-reality for me.”

“Cole.”

“Why are you saying my name like a whole damn sentence?”

She sighs, glancing toward the field before focusing her laser-like attention on me. “I got caught up in the moment. For honesty’s sake, I have been thinking about it for days, and that’s probably why I did it.”

“I don’t see the problem here, Palmer.”

“The problem is . . . I’m too old to be doing this. I’ve played around enough in my life—kissed enough boys behind sheds. Now I’m thirty-two and have nothing to show for it except the best kid in the world that I’m fully and solely responsible for.”

I hold up a hand. “Whoa. Slow down. You’re getting way ahead of yourself here.”

She stands up too. “That’s what I’m saying. I’m way ahead of where this thing between us is going.”

“You do realize that I asked you to dinner and not to marry me, right?”

“Yes!”

I make a face because I’m confused as fuck. “Also, we kissed in the shed, not behind it. Surely that means something.”

My attempt at levity goes unnoticed. That or ignored. Either way, she doesn’t bite.

“Look, Cole. I’m not looking for a ‘friends with benefits’ thing or a one-night stand or even to bide some time with a guy because we’re bored or have nothing better to do with our lives.”

“Okay.”

She hesitates, and I think she’s going to clam up and change the topic. I fully expect her to crack a joke and then tell me she has to go.

But she doesn’t.

“I want . . . more, Cole. I want to find a guy that I can settle down with. That will truly and actually love me. That will commit. That won’t leave me hanging.”

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s . . . a lot.

“I have a twelve-year-old son that deserves a family,” she says. “And I keep picking guys that don’t give a shit about that. They like having someone around to pick up after them or help them get off after a shitty day, but they aren’t wanting to blend their lives and say ‘This is us’ to the world.”