Flattery? That’d be . . . awkward. He wasn’t good with pretty words. Certainly wasn’t good with poetry or any shit like that. ’Sides, she knew she was pretty. He was sure she didn’t need to hear that from him. Should he ask if she was dating anyone? Thing was, he knew she wasn’t. Doc was always teasing her about how she needed to “get back out there,” whatever the hell that meant.

So . . . what, then? How did he lead the conversation toward asking her on a date?

“Daddy?” Libby ran up to the door and knocked, beaming at him. “Why are you hiding outside, Daddy?”

He could feel his face turn bright red as both Becca and the woman in the chair turned to look at him. He wasn’t hiding, damn it.

Libby knocked on the door again, the bell clanging on the end of the pink ribbon like a damned gong in his ears. Hank hastily pulled the door open and scooped Libby up. “Wasn’t hiding.”

“Yes, you were!”

He tried his best not to scowl, especially when Becca bit her lip and turned back to her customer. “I’ll be with you in just a moment, Mr. Watson,” she called out.

And that was real irritating. Mr. Watson? Really? Was she trying to point out that she wasn’t his friend? After a moment, he decided that was fine.

He wasn’t interested in being Becca’s friend anyhow. He wanted more from her than a buddy. Way more. Now that he’d finally decided she wasn’t pranking him? He was all in.

Now he just had to convince her.

Becca continued to work on the woman’s hair, casting him a curious look when he sat Libby back down at the tiny plastic desk in the corner. It was pink and unfamiliar and just the right size for his small daughter, which meant Becca had bought it just for Libby. She had a good heart, he decided. And she could cook. And she was generous.

Maybe it was time to start looking for a new mama for his daughter.

Not that he was thinking purely of Libby when he stared at Becca as she worked. If he was being honest with himself, he was more interested in Hank than in Libby. Hank and his late-night phone sessions where Becca’s picture got all kinds of usage it wasn’t intended for.

As the women talked and the customer paid, he looked down at Libby and noticed she had more than the usual pink glitter on her braids—she had a strand of bright pink hair tucked into each little topknot. Huh. That was new.