“Dinner?”

“My birthday dinner. You agreed to have dinner with me.”

“God. I totally forgot. It seems like that conversation was a week ago instead of this morning. It’s still your birthday?”

“Yep. But I’m passing the torch to baby Caroline after today. Thirty is the last one I celebrate. After this, it’s all hers. So you’re going to help me celebrate the very last one I get.”

“That’s a lot of pressure. Now I feel like I’m going to have put on a dress and be entertaining and witty.”

Hunter winked. “Feel free to make that dress cut low in the front and showing off a lot of leg.”

***

“You look beautiful, Natalia.”

After we visited the hospital, Hunter had dropped me off at a hotel so I could check in and get ready for dinner.

“Thank you.” It was the second time he’d complimented me since he’d picked me up. Even though he liked to tease me about sex—some of which was not really teasing—I was somehow certain his praise was sincere tonight. “You don’t look bad yourself for a man in his thirties.”

“Take it easy. I’m about eight hours into my thirties.”

The waitress came to our table. “Can I start you off with something to drink? Tonight’s special drink is a coconut margarita. It has fresh cream of coconut, lime juice, Cointreau, and Patrón tequila. The glass is lined with salted, toasted coconut.”

“Mmmm. That sounds delicious. I’ll try one of those,” I said.

Hunter ordered a Coke.

“What? It’s your birthday. Your last birthday. Aren’t you going to join me for a drink?”

“I’m driving, and I have a 6 a.m. flight.”

I turned to the waitress. “Can you make a virgin coconut margarita?”

“Sure can.”

“He’ll have one of those. And put an umbrella or something in it. It’s his thirtieth birthday.”

She smiled and looked to Hunter for approval to change his order.

He chuckled. “That’s fine. Thanks.”

After she walked away, I looked around at the rooftop Mexican restaurant. The view of a twinkling L.A. was breathtaking.

“This place is great. Do you come here often?”

“First time.”

“Really? I would think this place would be in your dating arsenal—impressive restaurant with a view and a long drink menu on top of a hotel. It’s like a playboy’s one-stop-shopping dream. Couple of drinks…grab a room…”

“I prefer to keep a mattress in the bed of my pickup. It’s cheaper and easier to dump them off when I’m done.”

I laughed. “Smart.”

“You know I’m not really a whore.”

The waitress delivered our drinks, so I sipped mine. It was the most delicious drink I’d ever tasted—like a melted, toasted coconut ice cream bar.

“Really? So how many women have you dated in, say, the last month?”

He thought about it for a minute. “Three.”

“Hmph. That’s not so bad, I guess.” I sipped my drink again and squinted at him. “Unless you slept with all of them. Sleeping with three different women a month would be thirty-six a year…after ten years of singlehood that would be upwards of three hundred and sixty different women. That’s kinda gross.”

Hunter frowned.

I smirked. “Slept with ’em all, huh?”

“I travel a lot for work. Sometimes I spend the better part of three months on a job site out of state, so I don’t always get to date that often.”

“So you don’t date when traveling? You’ve never met a woman at a bar while on the road and brought her back to your room?”

Another frown. “Did we or did we not meet when I overheard you deciding to bring some random—boring as shit, I might add—guy back to your room while you were traveling?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I have a good reason for not wanting anything more than sex from a man these days. Plus, I don’t do it very often.”

Hunter said nothing. He seemed to like to argue with me, so my guess was his sudden silence was because I’d hit upon something he didn’t want to talk about. Perhaps he had his own good reasons for not wanting anything but a sexual relationship with someone.

“So, tell me something about your love life, birthday boy who isn’t a whore. I gave you the thirty-second version of my heartache this afternoon. What’s your deal?”

“Not much to tell.”

“Ever married?”

“Nope.”

“Engaged?”

“Nope.”

“Serious girlfriend.”

“One.”

I took another sip. “Now we’re getting somewhere. How long was that relationship?”

“A few years.”

Although that surprised me, it did make sense. I wanted no part of a relationship because of my sour outlook after my marriage. “Why did you break up?”

He shifted in his seat. “Life.”

“Ah. That tells me a lot.”

“I prefer to live my life looking forward, not backward. You look in the rearview mirror too often, sometimes you miss what’s right in front of you.”

Huh. Not the answer I expected. But a damn good point.

The waitress came back to our table. Her timing was perfect for a change in the tone of our conversation. After she took our dinner order, and I finished off my large margarita, I shared something I’d been thinking about earlier as I was getting ready.

“My mom’s a big gardener. Growing up, she would plant a different flower on my birthday each year—one that would bloom around my spring birthday. Every year, we’d go outside to plant a new one, and all of my birthday plants would be in bloom. When I went away to college, she would snap pictures and send them in my card. It’s kind of goofy, but I loved it and looked forward to it each year. Yesterday, when you showed me your mom’s birthday birdhouses, it made me think maybe we could start some sort of a tradition for Caroline.”

Hunter sat back in his chair. “I’d like that. What did you have in mind?”

“You know the big oak tree that’s right outside Caroline’s bedroom window in the yard?”

“Yeah.”

“I was thinking maybe we could send her plants every year to hang from that tree on her birthday. You could make Anna and Derek a flower box to keep all the flowers in individual containers with hangers. Then on her birthday each year, we could take turns going over the night before and hanging all the plants on the tree—sort of like a Christmas tree, but a birthday tree instead.”

Hunter stared at me funny for a minute. I thought it might’ve been a look of disappointment, which caused me to say, “If you think it’s silly, we can just forget it.”

“No, not at all. I think it’s a great idea.”

“Oh, okay. You made a weird face, so I thought maybe you thought it was a dumb idea.”

Hunter scratched his chin and did this squinty thing with his eyes that looked like he was trying to figure out a problem.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me. I saw on your face that you were thinking something.”

He stared for another minute before leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. “Alright, when I went to Anna to try to get your telephone number after you blew me off with the wrong one, she refused, and when I asked her why, she said, ‘I’m not giving it to you for your own good. She’s as beautiful inside as she is out, and she’ll break your heart when you realize she’s not ready to let anyone in.’” He paused. “Figured she was full of shit and was trying to pass on your rejection so it wouldn’t hurt my fragile ego. Now I’m not so sure anymore.”

***

Hunter didn’t joke around about us having sex when we left the restaurant. To my surprise, he didn’t even attempt to come up to my room after he walked me into the lobby.

“Thank you for dinner, even though I should’ve been the one who paid since it’s your birthday. And thank you for picking me up at the airport, letting me crash at your house, and shuttling me all over.”

“You’re welcome.”

I pressed the button to the elevator. “I guess I’ll be in touch next year for our first joint Caroline-birthday-tradition present?”

“Going to need to exchange numbers to get in touch next year. Think you can give me the right number now that we’ve made friends?”

I smiled. “Sure.”

Hunter dug into his pocket for his cell and extended it to me, but when I went to take it, he latched onto my hand. “Kiss me once more.”

I looked around the hotel. There were people milling around in the lobby, even a family with kids. “I’m not sure our kiss would be G-rated enough for the lobby.”

As if it was in cahoots with the man, the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival. Hunter took my hand and pulled me inside. He pressed the button to close the doors and tugged me close. “Now we have privacy. What floor?”