“Ryn call?”

“Nope. AJ call?”

“Nope.” Jillian poured a cup of coffee. “She’s not dying so you actually have a case to plead.”

“I already did.”

“You insulted her daughter, and then you insulted her by implying her unconditional love somehow made her a doormat.”

Jackson popped the top to a Red Bull. “That’s what you got out of my explanation?”

“Yep and I’m a woman.”

“So?”

“So she is too and if your sister, who lacks the female drama gene, thinks you were a bit harsh, then you were a bit harsh. Her daughter is an extension of herself, so basically you slapped her across the face and then punched her in the gut. Even if every word was true, and from what you’ve said I think it is, it doesn’t make it any less insensitive.”

“This … this is the reason I used to get laid and then moved on. I don’t speak ‘woman.’ Clearly I’m too much of a man to make a relationship work.”

Jillian laughed. “So guys in relationships are not true men?”

“They probably were at some point, but I believe they had to remove one testicle to make the relationship work.”

“Luke had two.”

“Bullshit. You completely castrated him and just when he started to grow a new pair, you did it again.”

“Wrong … you’re so very wrong. It was just the opposite. A guy has to have two huge balls of steel to be with me and you know it.”

Jackson grinned. “It doesn’t matter. Ryn never saw my balls anyway.”

“Just as well. They really are the most unmanly part of the male body. I mean … they’re sensitive as hell and ugly, man are they ever ugly. Like twin turkey wattles. The penis is the only thing that saves you, and men with ED might as well trade it all in for a vagina because at that point it’s nothing more than dead flesh that leaks like a hose.”

He chuckled, rubbing his hands over his face. “See you just proved my point. You verbally attempt to castrate men all the time.”

“You think?”

“I know. Lucky for me, I knew you before you had boobs and such a smart mouth. Remember those days? You know I caught you kissing one pillow and dry humping another while listening to “Baby One More Time.”

The laughter that erupted from Jillian brought tears to her eyes and an even bigger smile to Jackson’s face. “Oh my God! I was so embarrassed … I still am.”

“Well, put yourself in my shoes. Every time that song came on the radio I had the most awkward image of you and those poor pillows.”

“Sorry, I didn’t have a lock on my door like you. But don’t think I didn’t notice how many times mom asked you why there was always an odd number of dirty socks in your hamper when she gathered the laundry.”

“That didn’t last long. I eventually threw in an extra clean one to keep the number even.” Jackson tossed his can into the recycle bin by the sink.

Jillian sighed. “It’s crazy, but that was us when we were normal … innocent. I miss those kids.”

“We’re still pretty awesome.”

“Yeah…” she raised on to her toes and pulled him down to kiss his cheek with exaggerated smack “…at least to each other. Now …” she headed toward her bedroom “…give up a testicle and call the girl.”

*

Apologizing for whatever Jackson did wrong in the very complicated female brain required a grand gesture. There was no need to remove a testicle, even though they both retreated closer to his body reminiscent of a cold shower—just in case. It’s as if they anticipated what was about to happen the closer he got to her house.

The sexiest ass in tight cut-off jeans greeted him as he pulled into her drive way. On all fours pulling weeds by the porch, she looked over her shoulder and wiped her brow. He liked her in that position—a little too much.

“Focus,” he whispered to himself just before getting out of Woody.

Gunner charged him, halting Jackson’s movements until Ryn showed enough mercy to call him back to the porch. It was progress.

“Hi.” She stood and brushed the dirt from her legs then tugged off her gloves.

“Hi. I came to apologize.”

“For what?”

That wasn’t the response he expected. It was a test. It had to be a test. Women loved playing mind games. The probability of him passing it was not good.

“For last week.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“For what I said on your birthday.” His comfort zone retreated a good ten miles away.

“Which part?”

“The part about Maddie.”

“You didn’t mean it?” She stared at her fingernails, picking the dirt out from under them.

Of course he meant it. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it. His poor testicles.

“I shouldn’t have said it.” Seemed like a safe answer.

“So you meant it, you just regret saying it to my face?”

The slit-eyed look she gave him said there would be no bonus points for honesty. He wasn’t even in the same realm as his comfort zone anymore. Casual dating and random sex never required much thought or carefully plotted script. No wonder he’d been so good at it.

“I’m going to go with … yeahhh—no?

“Yeahhh—no?”

A single slow nod. It was best to just stop talking.

Tilting her head to the side, she twisted her lips, eyes still narrowed. She was good—Jillian good—at ball busting.

“How am I doing?” she asked.

Gunner mimicked her head tilt as Jackson’s eyes flitted between her and the dog.

“Uh …” On the ride there he convinced himself she was worth it. Testicle-sacrificing worth it. At that exact moment he wasn’t sure anyone was worth it.

“You have any balls left?” she grinned.

Jutting his head forward, his eyes widened for a second before narrowing into a scowl.

Her nose wrinkled. “Don’t hate me. I decided everything you said was right, even if it did hurt. I’m going to have a talk with Maddie. She’s just been too busy to make time. I tried calling you about twenty minutes ago. Jillian answered, you must have left your cell phone.”

Jackson patted his hands over his pockets, she was correct.

“I called to apologize, hoping that it wasn’t too late. You broke my heart a little when I cleaned your house and you weren’t there. I thought you were really mad at me and didn’t want to see me. But then Jillian explained the situation and…” she bit her lips together for a moment “…don’t hate me, but she said I should make you sweat a little.”

It was clear that Jillian craved the taste of her own blood. Jackson would happily oblige her as soon as he got home.

“Thanks for reminding me why I have meaningless, sex-only relationships.” Turning, he walked back to his car.

*

Something went horribly wrong. Ryn watched in shock as he returned to his car. The only part of a man more sensitive than the aforementioned testicles was the male ego—like a Georgia peach.

“Well … wait! Oh my god! You’re really mad. It was a joke. I’m sorry.” She chased after him.

When she grabbed his arm, he turned, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin ever. He looked like a joker.

“You! Not. Funny.” Pointing her finger at him, she gave him a cold glare. There were two possibilities: kill him or attack him. A week and a half earlier, after Jackson took her home on her birthday, she swore things couldn’t get worse. They did. She started her period.

Hello ovulation.

Ryn thought about sex all the time. Not normal fleeting thoughts of sex. Forty-year-old-whacked-out-hormones type thinking about sex. Woman-who-hadn’t-had-sex-in-a-very-long-time type of thoughts. When images of having sex with Humpty Dumpty—the mailman with a combover—in his white box on wheels crossed the conscious part of the brain, it was time for therapy.

“I’m extremely funny. What are you talking about?”

“I…” she shook her head with a soft chuckle “…I don’t know how to navigate this. Maddie came along before I had a chance to experience my young, vibrant, and wild years. The longest relationship I’ve had, outside of my debacle of a marriage, lasted two months and that was five years ago.”