He crosses his arms and inhales deeply as he looks off in thought. Then his dark gaze meets mine again. “I always wanted kids. I worry, like you, maybe it’s too late. I mean, I’m thirty-six.”

“Hey, watch it now,” I warn. “Thirty-six isn’t old,” I point out. “You’re only four years older than me.”

“No,” he chuckles. “It’s not that old. But these things take time.”

“That they do,” I agree.

“Well, I haven’t completely let go of the idea. I guess the hardest part for me will be convincing a woman to love a man like me enough to have my child.”

This time, I cock my head and look at him. I know what he means; he’s a convicted felon. But I wish for one second he could see what I see; the kind heart and easy attitude underneath the hard exterior. “Any woman would be lucky to have your child Connor. Never doubt that.” The words left my mouth before I thought of how . . . intense they sounded. Connor’s brows rise at my heartfelt statement and the reality hits me of what I said. Did I just, in some backward way, say I’d be lucky to have his kid? No. No, I didn’t. Did I? Shit. I think I did. Was that what I was thinking?

Before either of us can say another word, J.J. and Grayson come flying back into the kitchen with Mark carrying a giggling Mary-Anne by her ankles.

“Do I have to take them outside?” Mark grumbles. “I was sleeping until Grayson jumped on me and kneed me in the nuts.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” I wager. “How about a nice grilled steak for dinner tonight.”

Mark’s blue gaze jerks to mine. Teenage boys; sex and food. That’s all they think about.

“Macaroni and cheese . . . the homemade shit, I mean stuff?” he corrects himself when I cut him a warning eye.

“Okay, that’s fair,” I agree.

“Let’s go guys.” Mark encourages as he heads toward the back door.

As soon as they’re out the door, Connor adds, “I would’ve taken them outside for steak.”

“Good to know,” I laugh. “Now I know how to get you to be my servant.”

Connor gives an easy smile. “All you have to do is ask.” Then he walks out.

By the grace of the almighty, we survive the weekend. Wendy and Jeff don’t stay long when they return to pick up their children, and although I love her dearly, I’m grateful. I have no idea how they survive on a daily basis. Before they leave, I let Wendy know we need to talk. I want to know why McKenzie believes she knows so much about Connor. I also want to know why she hates my house so much. But it’s a conversation that has to wait. As the Tuffman’s speed away, Lexi pulls in the driveway where Connor and I are standing. I roll my eyes as she climbs out of her car, her hair disheveled and sunglasses covering what I know are ‘leftover from the night before’ makeup smeared eyes.

“Your timing is impeccable, as always Lex,” I mumble as I cross my arms and shake my head.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she groans in defense as she uses her body to clumsily shut her car door.

“Yeah,” I snort. “And they just left.”

She curls her lip in annoyance as she looks at my street. “Damn,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry.” She shrugs, then, “Do you have any coffee?”

Connor chuckles and pats my shoulder, I’m guessing his way of sympathizing with me even though he finds Lexi humorous. I ignore her question and turn to him with an exhausted grin.

“You saved my life this weekend,” I admit. And he did. I’m not sure I could’ve survived two days of Tuffman kids without him. It was yet again another time that he has shown a part of himself I didn’t think was in him. And looking up at him now, I can feel the way my view of him has changed in the short time he’s been home. There were stereotypes and preconceived notions that skewed my perception of him even before I met him. But slowly and in the most profound way, Connor has proven something I should have known all along—you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

“I think I need a nap,” he laughs as he runs a rough hand down his face.

“Me too,” I groan as I reach my hands up to the sky and stretch. “Can I cook you a thank you dinner tonight?”

His smile fades a little, his hand moving to the back of his neck for a rub. “Rain check for tomorrow night? I kind of have something going on.”

“Oh,” I say a little surprised. And a part of me wants to ask if he has a date, but I tamp that down and move on because it isn’t any of my business. “How about Tuesday? I have plans tomorrow night.” I won’t push details on him either.

“Would this be date two with the painter?” Lexi interrupts . . . of course she does. “Maybe he’ll do some kind of Titanic shit where he draws a photo of you in the nude.”

My cheeks heat not only at the thought of that but that she’s saying it in front of Connor. “Pretty sure that isn’t going to happen,” I mumble, awkwardly, as I push some of my hair behind my ear.

“Maybe he’ll finger paint your bare body,” Lexi continues, goading me. She knows she’s humiliating me right now, and she loves every second of it.

“Okay, Lex,” I snap as I hold my hand up. “Let’s get you that coffee.” Looking back to Connor, the easy expression and humor filled eyes seem to have vanished. Now his brow is slightly furrowed, and his mouth is flat. Lexi has obviously made him feel uncomfortable.

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Sorry. Tuesday night? That works for me if it works for you.”

“Yeah, Tuesday is good,” he adds quickly.

“Join us for coffee?” I ask as Lexi tromps up the stairs of my back porch.

“Nah . . . gotta get to work. But thanks.”

“Okay,” I half smile and give a little awkward wave. “Have a good day, neighbor.”

With a chuckle, he waves back. “You too.”

When I make it inside, Lexi is sitting at the table, mug in hand, sunglasses still covering her bloodshot eyes. “I have bad news,” she begins as I dump the cold dregs of my morning coffee in the sink and pour myself a fresh cup.

“Yay,” I mumble. I may not know what the bad news is, but I do know, without a doubt, it has to do with our mother.

“Gladys knows about Vick,” Lexi confesses before sipping her coffee. My shoulders slump with this news. I’d rather have had a chance to get to know Vick without my mother interfering with mindless gossip and boasting me as the sweetest widow this side of the Mississippi.

“That is unfortunate news,” I sigh in defeat, taking a seat next to her.

“Mr. Grenier was at the bar the other night and saw you two together. Called mom and gave her the 411.”

“And . . .” I question. Surely Gladys has given Lexi her in-depth opinion of Vick, a man she barely knows.

“She’s just happy you’re dating someone, and it’s not Connor.”

I frown with her words. It makes me sad my mother thinks so lowly of a man she’s never met. It makes me sadder she doesn’t trust my judgment. And it makes me saddest that Connor is so undeserving of her low opinion.

Lexi, sensing my dismal thoughts, changes the subject. “Damn I’m hungover,” she sighs.

“You’re hungover every day, Lex,” I point out. “Why don’t you take a few nights off from the party scene?”

She snorts. “Gotta party while I can.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” I ask casually. Lexi is no doubt a very sexual woman. That’s not to say she sleeps with everyone, but she isn’t shy about sex.

She blinks a few times, her gaze drifting away for a brief moment as if in thought before moving it back to mine and smirking. “His name is Bob. You’d like him.”

“Bob?” I question, smiling a little, happy to hear my sister is interested in someone. “What’s he like?”

Twisting her mouth to the side she mumbles, “Hmm.” Then leaning forward, she says, “He’s a solid kind of guy and knows how to show a girl a good time.”

“Well, those are both really good traits.” I smile.

“And whenever I need him, no matter what time of day it is, he’s always there.”