Sure, it was. His mouth flattened. Once upon a time, he hadn’t been a cynical bastard, but his first wife and various girlfriends had introduced him to disillusionment. His second wife, Paisley, had put the icing on the cake.

Unable to avoid her hug without pushing her away, he turned his head to escape her attempted kiss. Even the wind off the snow-pack-fed lake couldn’t cool down his annoyance. “What do you want, Paisley?”

“Oh, darling, don’t be angry with me.” Ignoring his step back, she patted his arm, then his chest.

Irritation bit into his self-control. “For fuck’s sake, woman, when a person moves away from you, it’s a polite way of saying don’t touch. What part of that don’t you understand?”

She stared at him with hurt on her face. “You love my touch and always want my kisses and to make love.”

“Not. Any. More.” He took another step back and crossed his arms over his chest. Fucking-A, they’d been divorced for over two years.

“But…”

“Why are you here?” The struggle for patience felt as though he was slogging through the endless sands in Afghanistan with a full pack.

She curled a strand of hair around her finger and looked up through her lashes. “I miss you, Bull. I want to get back together.” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper. “I think we made a mistake.”

We made a mistake? He stared in disbelief. Had she forgotten so easily? He sure hadn’t.

He’d been so in love with her. So damned blind. He’d let slide the times she said she had to show a house and been out late. He’d explained away the occasional whiff of unfamiliar aftershave when he’d kissed her neck, telling himself she’d touched her neck after shaking hands with someone. Despite knowing she was obsessive about checking her phone, he’d excused the times she didn’t answer his texts.

Until one day.

Until he had trouble pissing, got checked, and was told he had an STD.

Trailing her for a few days, he’d learned that loyalty and fidelity were merely words to her, donned for appearance sake, and discarded as easily as her last month’s purse.

Now she was here, saying they made a mistake?

There had been no mistake, except marrying her in the first place.

He gritted his teeth to keep from flaying her with sarcasm. What would be the point?

After a calming breath, he said evenly, “Paisley, we’ll never be together. We had this talk.” The one where he told her that he’d never be with someone he couldn’t trust—and she’d broken that trust. Irreparably.

“But…but I miss you. I need you.” She latched onto his arm and clung. “You love me. You said you did.”