“Mr. Hank?”

“I don’t know your last name.”

“Watson.”

“Mr. Watson, then.”

“Hank.”

“Mr. Hank,” she teased. “Since you insist.”

“You’re impossible,” he muttered. “Gimme your phone.”

Her hands were buttery. Becca gestured at her purse. “It’s in there. The passcode is 2343.”

The big cowboy rolled his eyes. “You’re too trusting.” He grabbed her phone, unlocked it after a few fumbled attempts, and scowled fiercely at it as he started to flip through something. It was clear he wasn’t a fan of typing on her small screen.

She tried to peek around him. “What are you doing?”

“Putting my number in. If you’re taking my daughter today, I want you to be able to call.”

“That’s a great idea.”

He tapped the screen a few more times and then gave her a curious look as she parceled batter into each of the cups.

“What’s that expression for?” she asked, and why was she having so much fun this morning despite being dead tired and arguing with a stranger? Yet, she was. She felt alive, which was weird. She was also flirting, which was equally weird.

“Your ex is still in your phone,” he drawled.

“That’s personal!” A hot flush stained her cheeks, and she tried to grab the phone away from him, buttery hands or not.

He held it out of her reach. “I wasn’t snooping or anything. ‘G’ for ‘Greg’ is right next to ‘H’ for ‘Hank,’ you know.”

Oh. Well, he didn’t need to know that Greg still called her sometimes. Or that the calls normally came after nine at night on the weekend. Or that she even answered—not that she’d accepted. She knew what a booty call was and she wasn’t going to be that man’s personal vagina. He’d hurt her too badly for that. “Maybe I just haven’t deleted him out of my phone yet.”

“Want me to?” He arched one of those thick black brows at her, a silent dare in his gaze.

“Go ahead.” She lifted her chin, daring him back.

Hank grunted again, tapping at the phone. “He looks like a tool.”

Becca giggled at that, feeling a little better. The photo attached to Greg’s info in her phone wasn’t a good one, and for that, she was viciously glad. “Just put your number in already. And a picture, too.”

“Why?”

She was starting to get used to his one-word comments. “Because I said so.”

He grunted again, and she went back to pouring the batter. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling as the camera went off on the phone a moment later. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Now I need your number. Same reason.”

She rattled it off to him as he typed into his own phone.

“Look up.”

Feeling suddenly shy, Becca glanced up and gave him a sheepish smile as he took a picture.