He chuckled—the first time she’d ever heard him laugh—and then moved away, and she couldn’t decide if she was dizzy that he’d touched her or sad that he’d stopped. Becca shook herself, then set the batter aside to grease up the muffin pan. “What about Libby’s mother? Can I ask about her?”

“No.”

Fair enough. She wasn’t insulted. Relationships that failed were personal wounds, for all that they left scars for the world to see. That didn’t stop her, though. “Speaking of Libby, who’s watching her today?”

“Me.”

Becca paused, a stick of butter in her hand, and glanced over at him. “You?”

“Me. Her father.” He chugged more coffee.

“She’s an energetic four-year-old and you’re a tired man with far too much on his plate already. I could hang out with her today while you work and hopefully get some rest.”

Silence met that offer.

She looked over at him, arching a brow. “So?”

“Why?”

“You really have to ask why?” She shook her head, going back to buttering the pan. “You’re dead on your feet, Doc’s got his hands full, and you and your brothers will probably have your hands in cow uteruses all day long.” She cast him a look. “My father owned a farm, you know. I know what calving season is like. It’s not really ideal for a four-year-old.”

“But being with you is?”

The way he stated it was more amusement than irritation, she decided.

“I’d like to think it would be fun. I can take her to the salon with me. We’ll stop and get some coloring books at the pharmacy, she can be my little assistant at the salon since it’s not busy, and we’ll take one problem out of your hair for the day. I can even take her up to the school and introduce her to the teachers if you like.”

That got a response out of him. “Teachers? Why?”

“The summer session of preschool will be starting in another month or so. Don’t you think it’d be good for Libby to get to know some of the other children in town? Make friends? It’s lonely as an only child. I speak from experience.” She gave him a wistful smile. “I never even had a dog.”

“You want a dog? There’s a whole bunch of them in Doc’s office,” he said dryly.

Was that a joke? She was winning him over, she knew it. Becca grinned, her heart fluttering as she looked up at him. Okay, if she trimmed that beard and the circles weren’t under his eyes, he’d be stunningly handsome. She itched to work on him, if only to run her fingers through his hair and touch his face. “I’m just trying to help out, Mr. . . .” It occurred to her that she didn’t know his last name. “Hank,” she finished.