I smiled. “And you’re sure that’s me, huh?”

“I’m sure I’m ready to find out.”

By then the nervousness I’d felt before dinner had vanished. This guy was into me. And he wasn’t afraid to say so. It was hard to keep my shoulders from doing a little victory dance.

“What about you?” he asked. “Why aren’t you hanging out with the singles group?”

It was only fair. I’d brought up his dating, but . . . ugh. “Do I really need a reason?”

“Try me. I’m guessing I’ll probably understand.”

“One too many root beer floats?”

He chuckled. “I think I follow, but that answer’s still a cop-out.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what else to say. There was a huge singles group in California, and I guess after a little while, the whole scene made me tired. I’m not opposed to singles groups on principle. I realize there’s a reason to have them. I just wanted a break.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “And better than a really awful ex-boyfriend story.”

I laughed. “That sounded like a loaded comment. Have you heard one of those lately?”

He groaned. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Oh, come on. I love a good story.”

He hesitated before plowing into his story with a weird sort of fervor. “It’s this girl I used to know in college. She called me out of the blue last week, started texting all the time. It’s weird. We weren’t even really friends. But she’s been telling me all this garbage. She has a crazy ex story. Stalking, restraining orders, you name it.”

“Wow. Why’d she suddenly start texting you?”

“I’m not going to tell you. You’ll just laugh.”

I forced a serious expression. “I will not. Promise.”

He leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees, and looked up at me through his very long lashes. “She said after years of chasing the wrong kind of guy, she’s ready for someone with more traditional family values. Which is crazy. I didn’t even know her that well. I don’t know what she thinks she knows about my values.”

“Whatever. You’re Mormon. Does she need to know more than that?”

“It’s not like Dave and I spent our weekends preaching on street corners.”

“No, but you also didn’t spend your weekends getting drunk and acting like idiots. Women notice that sort of thing.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Don’t be so sure.”

“Ohhh, he has a past.”

He rolled his eyes at my teasing. “We probably fell somewhere between drunken idiot and preaching on the corner. It just feels like a weird reason to reach out to someone. ‘Hey, five years ago you seemed like a real family man. Want to hook up?’ Plus, I’m not encouraged by the restraining order.”