His Instagram account was public, and this afternoon, I’d scrolled through his feed, which showed his mountain biking and hiking, snowmobiling and white-water rafting. The terrain seemed to get more challenging as the years progressed.

“All right, Dr. Phil. Tell me this: why aren’t I married?”

I was quiet for several seconds, watching his eyes.

There wasn’t a single photo of a woman anywhere on his page. Unless he had deleted them, but I didn’t sense he would waste his time doing that. He just wouldn’t post a picture unless things were serious, telling me he hadn’t reached that status.

“You’ve lusted hard, but you’ve never loved.” I took a drink. “My guess is, there have been some fun ones. They just never accepted you for you.” I paused as his gaze warmed. “How’d I do?”

“Did you ever consider getting into psych?”

It was my turn to laugh. “I’m just observant, and I listen for a living. They say the truth comes out when you’re drunk; the same is true when you’re in pain. People turn extremely vulnerable; it’s remarkable, the things my patients have shared with me.”

He finished his glass, the fire glowing across his face. “Now, how is someone as stunning as you not married?”

“Do you want to take a stab at it?”

His silence felt like he was reaching inside of me. “You’ve fallen but only as far as skinning your knees.”

My hands shook at the accuracy of that statement. Not a single man from my past had made me breathless, and none of them would have stopped me from rushing into the street after a bombing to help the victims in need.

“Caleb, you’re not so bad at this yourself.”

He turned back to his meal and asked, “What’s your work schedule normally like?”

“Twelve-hour shifts, three days a week. Usually, they’re consecutive; sometimes, they’re not. Most weeks, I pick up a shift of overtime.”

“Four days off gives you a lot of flexibility.”

I shrugged, never thinking of it that way, especially when I almost always took on extra hours. And the total I put in each week was so taxing that I was constantly trying to catch up on life. “I suppose it does.”

“Do you travel when you’re off?”

I sighed. “That would be a dream. I want to go everywhere, and I’ve been nowhere.”

He set his elbows on the table. “If you could go anywhere for those four days, where would you go?”

“Within driving distance or jumping on a plane?”

“If money wasn’t an option.”

I twirled the stem of the glass, the wine sloshing against the inside.

“Or …” I looked up as he continued, “Would you rather have me surprise you?”

A shiver moved through my body, tingles erupting in my stomach. “Surprise me.”