“And besides, we’re not really all that different. Although I think I’m a little more . . . ”

“What?”

“Optimistic.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “You’re Eeyore.”

He blinked. “You think I’m Eeyore?”

“You tell me. I take my empty glass and try to fill it up with what happiness I can find. Friends, family, my work . . . And then there’s you.”

He raised a brow. “Me.”

She nudged him again, looking playful and damn sexy while she was at it. It was the short shorts with the boots, he decided. Or everything. It was everything.

“You take that empty glass,” she said, happily analyzing him. “And you wonder what the heck to do with it. You don’t need the glass, you don’t have time for the glass. Hell, you’ll just drink from a spigot if you get thirsty. And in any case, there’s probably another one up the road if that one runs out, so—”