Tessa clutched her backpack and watched her childhood neighborhood roll by. Just hours earlier, she imagined having kids of her own. Clearly, she wasn’t ready. Closing her eyes, she took a shaky breath and chased away the image of Sam gasping for air. She exhaled on a slow count of three. Then again, when the moment of crisis arrived, she met it head-on. Sam got stung on her watch, but because of her quick thinking, he was safe. So, was she ready for a family? Maybe yes. Maybe no. Opening her eyes again, she pointed. “Here’s my house.”

Richard swung into the driveway.

She glanced at the scarlet welt on her thigh. Running a finger over the raised flesh, she flinched.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She tugged down her shorts. Too late.

Richard nudged her cuff, revealing the flaming lesion. “Hey, you didn’t tell me you got stung.”

She straightened her knee and winced. “Actually, I forgot about it until now.”

“Are you allergic, too?”

Her leg throbbed in deep, achy surges. She tugged down her shorts. “Not that I’m aware of.”

He was out the door and at her side in a millisecond. “Let me take a look.”

Forgetting about her second sting, she put out a hand in protest and was harshly reminded. She sighed and extended her arm. “Here, too.”

“Why didn’t you say something? I’ll grab my kit.” He reached across her.

Against her bare legs, his chest was firm and warm, and for an instant, the pain subsided. She sank into the seat. How could he still smell like a beachside juice bar after all they’d been through? She was pretty sure she smelled like soft serve and Sam’s socks.

Tucking the first aid kit onto the dashboard, he stood. “Turn toward me.”

She swung her limbs out the door. “Really, I’m fine.”

His gaze traveled up and down her legs before fixing on her thigh. “Very nice.”

“Excuse me?” She arched a brow.

“Nice reaction. Textbook.” Grinning, he placed a hand on her leg.

She started ever so slightly and blushed. He was a doctor, after all. He couldn’t examine her without touching her. With steady but gentle pressure, he pressed the flesh around her sting. His hands were clean, with square nails and wide palms. His head hovered just above her knees, and she had a sudden urge to run her fingers through his hair.

“Are you having difficulty breathing?”

She giggled. “No, doctor.”

“Any nausea? Tightness in your throat?”

“Nope and nope.”

“I have to ask. You’re having a significant allergic response. Let me see your arm.”

She pushed up her sleeve. With the same firm but tender touch, he rotated her arm, exposing the delicate skin beneath.

Placing two fingers just above her elbow, he traced a small circle around the welt. “This reaction is more severe. Does it hurt?”