No one was sitting next to my neighbor at that point, and as I looked around, I debated for a minute whether to pretend not to see him or just go ahead and wave to get it over with the lazy way. Then those deeply engraved manners my mom had practically beat into me overrode anything and everything else, like usual. Plus, I hated when people pretended not to see me, even if I really didn’t want to say hi, and he’d been polite when he didn’t need to be. I wasn’t going to count the first day we’d met; no one was ever in a good mood when they’d gotten rudely woken up, especially with some bullshit like his brother had pulled.

After another minute of telling myself that it would be fine to not say anything, I accepted that I couldn’t do that. With a grumble, I finally pushed my chair back and got up, grabbing my stout along the way.

One day I would grow into my own person who didn’t care about doing the right thing.

One day when hell froze over.

The closer I got to him sitting at the other end of the bar staring at the television mounted high on the wall, the more relaxed I became. He was watching a baseball game. It was Josh’s favorite major league team—the Texas Rebels. I only hesitated a little bit as I came up behind him and then tapped him on the shoulder with my free hand.

He didn’t turn around, so I did it again. That second time, he finally turned his head to look over his shoulder, a slight frown creasing the space between his full eyebrows. Pale eyelids lowered over those hazel irises, blinking once, then twice and a third time.

Great. He didn’t recognize me.

“Hi.” I flashed him a smile that was about 98 percent “why did I do this?” “I’m Diana, your neighbor,” I explained, because though we’d met twice, apparently he still didn’t remember me. If that didn’t make a girl feel good, I didn’t know what would.

Dallas blinked once more and slowly gave me a hesitant, wary look as he nodded. “Diana, yeah.”

I blinked at the most unenthusiastic greeting I’d ever been welcomed with.

And then to make it worse, his frown made a reappearance at the same time his gaze flicked around the bar. “This is a surprise,” he said slowly, his forehead still lined with confusion or discomfort, or both. I didn’t know why. My boobs weren’t hanging out and in his face, and I was standing a reasonable distance away from him.

“I’m here with my friend,” I explained slowly, watching as he turned his head enough to glance around me… to look for my friend? Or see where his friend was to get me out of his face? Who knew? Whatever the reason, it made me narrow my eyes at him. I didn’t want to be here either, thank you very much. “Well, I wanted to say hi since I saw you here….” I trailed off as his gaze switched back to my direction, that almost familiar crease making its presence known one more time between his thick eyebrows. Had I done something wrong by coming up to him? I didn’t think so. But there was something in his gaze that made me feel so unwelcome, I couldn’t help but feel awkward. Really awkward.

I could tell where I was wanted and where I wasn’t.

“All right, I just wanted to say a friendly ‘hello.’ I’ll see you later, neighbor.” I finished in one breath, regretting making the decision to come over more than I had regretted anything in recent history.

That furrow between my neighbor’s eyebrows deepened as his gaze swept over me briefly before moving back to the television as he shifted forward in his seat, dismissing me. The action was so fucking rude, my stomach churned from how insulted I was. “’Kay. See you around,” he said.

Thank God I had said I was leaving first.

I didn’t know him well enough to decide whether he was being unfriendly because he didn’t want to have anything to do with me in public or if today was just not the day for small talk. Then again, once he realized who I was, his expression had just turned guarded. Why, who the hell knew?

Slightly more embarrassed than I had been minutes before—I should have just pretended not to see him, damn it—with my drink in hand, I made the walk along the edge of the bar toward my original seat. I’d barely sat down when I faintly heard Ginny’s voice over the loud music. A moment later, the seat next to me was pulled out and so was the one on the other side of her.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologized, scooting the stool forward as the blond man she’d called her cousin did the same at the stool beside her.

I shrugged, shoving the moment with my neighbor to the back of my mind. I wasn’t going to let it bother me. There wasn’t anything worth bothering me about the situation. Good for him not being a giant whore, I guess, if that was why he hadn’t been friendly. “It’s okay.”

And then, of course, the blond named Trip leaned forward and tipped his chin up at me. “You know Dallas?”

“The guy over there or the city?” I asked, gesturing toward the end of the bar with a quick and not-so-inconspicuous head jerk.

He nodded with a grin. “The man, not the city.”

“Uh-huh. We’re neighbors.”

That had Ginny turning her red head to look in the direction we’d both gestured to. I could tell her eyes narrowed.

“No shit?” Trip asked, bringing his mug of beer to his mouth.

“He’s two houses down, across the street.”

“You’re across from Miss Pearl?”

How the hell he knew who Miss Pearl was, I didn’t understand. “Yep.”

“I remember seeing a for sale sign up in front of that house. How ‘bout that.”

Someone knew my neighbor well.

Meanwhile, I noticed that Ginny was still trying to look over at the other side of the bar to search whom we’d been originally talking about. I touched her elbow and, with my palm flat to the surface of the bar, pointed right at my neighbor pretty damn discreetly if I did say so myself. “The guy in the white shirt.”

Then she turned to look at me over her shoulder, her eyes a little too shrewd. “You live across the street from him?”

“You know him too?”

“I didn’t…” She flubbed her words before shaking her head and using her thumb to gesture to the blond beside her. “He’s our cousin.”

That man was Ginny’s cousin? Really? She had never, ever mentioned him before. I’d pegged him to be about forty, right around her age. The same age as I figured the cute blond on her other side might be also.

“So, you cut hair too?” Trip asked, ending Ginny’s explanation of the man at the end of the bar, damn it. I could always ask her about it later… maybe. After the way he’d just been, I wasn’t exactly interested in hearing his life story. Plus, he was married. Married. I wouldn’t roll down that hill even if he’d been interested. Which he hadn’t. It was fine. I wasn’t interested either.

“Yes,” I answered, focusing on the blond’s question, even as Ginny snorted into her beer. “I prefer hair artiste, but yeah.” Doing hair color was my favorite and what I made more than half my money off, but who needed to be specific?

“You wanna cut mine?” the flirt just went ahead and asked.

I scrunched up my nose and smiled. “No.”

The big laugh that bubbled out of him made me grin.