“Kind of. I love plants, and my parents left me their house and gardens to tend while my dad’s on sabbatical. I’ve given up on my mother’s vegetables. The Farmers’ Market will do. Instead, I’m planting a flower garden inspired by one my grandmother had.” Her domestic endeavors sounded so lame compared to the lifesaving work he did every day. She flopped closed the cover of the sketchbook. “Exciting, huh?”

He pivoted and sat on the computer desk. “Very lovely, actually.”

Beneath his gaze, she felt like something of a flower herself. Her cheeks heated. “Anyway, I want to give my parents a gazebo for their thirtieth wedding anniversary, and—”

“Have you looked online?”

Looping a curl over one ear, she nodded. “Didn’t find anything. I want it to be really special, so I’m designing one myself. At least I’m trying. I’m looking for inspiration but not having much luck.” She tapped her fingers on the sketchbook cover.

He jiggled her stool with one foot. “Why don’t you blow this taco stand and come with us to Softee Freeze?”

She quieted her fingers mid-tap. Was he asking her out? A thrill shivered up her spine.

With a broad grin, he stuck his hands in his pockets and jingled his keys.

Nah. He probably just wanted babysitting backup. “Thanks, but I just got here—”

“You closed your notebook. I saw you. Come on, will you really read this stuff? Landscape Design and Modern Thought?”

In spite of herself, she giggled. “Hey, I might.”

“A Brief History of Garden Art?”

“That one sounds like a page-turner.”

He hooked his foot over the rung of the stool and pulled her closer. “I promise soft serve.”

She pursed her lips and challenged him with a stare. “Do you always get what you want, Richard Bruce?”

“Not always…” He leaned in again. “But usually.”

If she could bottle his confidence, she’d make a fortune.

“Besides, I need you,” he library-whispered. “Sam and Caitlin are a handful, even when ice cream isn’t part of the equation.”

His face was inches from hers. She ran her gaze over the cleft in his chin where a hint of dark stubble was just emerging. “You only want me for my child-wrangling skills?”

“Among other things.”

A high-pitched giggle rang out behind her.

“Please,” he mouthed.

Her stomach did a full-fledged, back handspring. She tucked away her notebook. “Softee Freeze sounds great.”

“You’re an angel.” Without asking, he took her backpack and flung it over one shoulder.

She reached to snatch it back but stopped—no harm in him carrying her bag. Just this once.

Sam careened around a desk with Caitlin on his heels.

Richard thrust out his hands. “Slow down, buddy.”

“Are we going home now?” Sam dragged the back of his wrist across his nose and sniffed.