Color rose in the handyman’s face until it was the same color as his beard. “Mebbe.”

Hawk glanced at Kit. “S’okay if he uses flowers to get the girl?”

Aww, the deadly mercenary wants to help Knox with his love life. How sweet is this? Kit smiled at Knox. “The pansies are a thank you for risking your life for me and Aric and should be used however you wish, especially to treat your women. Dante’s pot is going to Lillian so she can have one on each side of her door.”

“Erica really likes flowers.” Knox’s smile grew.

The man was totally a sweetheart. “Your lady is lucky to have you, Knox.”

He grinned. “Yellow’s her favorite color.”

“P-perfect, then.” Kit forced her lips to turn upward. She didn’t want to ruin the moment for him. Bending down, she took Aric’s hand. “Come along, my young warrior.”

After a minute, Hawk caught up and walked beside her. When they reached the pickup, he stepped in front of her. “What upset you?”

“It’s nothing.”

His voice turned growly. “Kit.”

She pulled in a breath through her nose. “They were sweet, both of them.”

“Okay.” Hawk’s light brown brows drew into a frown.

“It’s just… Obadiah gave me flowers only once. On our first date.” She could still see that bouquet of red tulips. She’d been so thrilled. Now? She knew she’d never grow tulips again. “He never bothered to learn my favorite color and sure never looked like Knox—happy to be giving me something.”

“Ah.” Hawk lifted his hand, giving her time to pull back if she wanted, then ran his fingers down her cheek and over her quivering lower lip. “Obadiah was an asshole.”

“Obadiah’s an asshole,” piped Aric, nodding.

Hawk burst out laughing.

Kit stared.

His laughter—it never failed to fill her with joy. When Aric started giggling, her own laughter erupted like a fountain.

Obadiah had been an asshole.

And she was well shed of him.

But, oh, dear heavens, the word asshole would now be a permanent part of Aric’s vocabulary.

When Hawk exchanged fist bumps with her boy, she narrowed her eyes. “You, sir, are going to be the one to explain to his preschool teacher about his vocabulary.”

A corner of his mouth tilted up. “Now that’s just fucking mean.”

An hour later, Hawk parked the pickup in front of the Bull’s Moose Roadhouse. This was the last stop, he decided, no matter what Kit said.

Every thank you she’d spoken had been from the heart—and she was worn the hell out. The kid needed a nap, and so did Hawk.