Pocketing the change in one hand, Richard clasped Tessa’s hand in the other and steered her toward the exit. “What was that?”

“What was what?” She was simply driving an Amish guy to her house to measure a tree. Nothing weird about that…

“That encounter.”

“I told you that day at the library. I’m having a gazebo built for my parents’ anniversary.”

“And that man is coming to your house to build it?”

She extracted her hand from what was gradually becoming a vise grip. “I guess that’s the process…”

“Why can’t you buy a finished one? Don’t the Amish sell them out on Route 45?”

With an exasperated grunt, she tightened her bun, narrowly missing his chin with her elbow. “Well, of course they do, but I told you, I want a special one. I came up with my own design—”

“You designed a gazebo after all?” Richard choked a laugh.

A fireball ignited in her chest. She quickened her stride. “Yes, I did, thank you very much, and Jonas said it’s beautiful, and he’s building it.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

He stared like she was a little girl about to cartwheel from the roof of her house. “Don’t patronize me, Richard Bruce.”

Stopping short at the door, he held up both hands. “I’m not patronizing you, I’m just worried. Call me crazy but taking strange men to your house seems rather ill-advised.”

She dodged that same old lady with the cart exiting the building. “He’s not strange; he’s Amish.”

“Don’t be naïve.” He shouldered the door and stalked into the parking lot.

She stormed past him and yanked on the car door. Finding it locked, she whirled. “Can you please open the car?”

Key in hand, he stood inches behind her, his thumb poised over the button. “You don’t know this man. Just be careful.”

Maybe she agreed to let him take care of her, but she didn’t sign on to be smothered by an overprotective physician with a paranoid streak. Pinned against the car, she caught his gaze and glared. His brow creased with what looked like genuine concern, and his eyes softened. She huffed a breath, and the fireball cooled a couple of degrees. “I can take care of myself.”

Sliding the pie onto the hood, he crossed his arms. “I know. But you agreed to let me pitch in. Remember?”

She crossed her arms back. “It’s just a gazebo.”

“Yeah?” He hooked a thumb over one shoulder. “Tell that to that guy.”

With one quick move, she snagged his hand and brought to his side. “I’ll look past the whole extremely clingy, borderline-macho display you got going on here, because I take you at your word. But just this once. Got it, Bruce?”

He jerked away and, retrieving the pie, unlocked the car. “Now who’s patronizing whom?”