The pancakes were amazing. Hank had cut both hers and Libby’s into a heart shape, and the remnants ended up on his plate, which she thought was cute. Everything was perfect, right down to the conversation. Libby chattered and talked to her dad nonstop, and Hank answered her between bites. She enjoyed herself, loving the interplay between the child and her father, and when dinner was done, Becca smiled at them. “Do you guys want to stay and watch a movie?”

“A different one, I hope,” Hank said.

She chuckled. “I’m sure we can find something Libby appropriate.”

After the table was cleared, they all three piled onto the couch—Hank in the middle—and put on a Pixar movie. Libby was rapt, her gaze glued to the screen, and Becca found watching her almost as amusing as the movie.

Not that she was paying much attention to either, because Hank’s arm immediately went across the back of the couch once the movie started playing, and by the time it was halfway over, he was rubbing her shoulder and her neck as cartoon animals marched across the screen.

She should not have been turned on nearly as much as she was. It seemed wrong to close her eyes and bite back a moan as he massaged her neck, his fingers working magic over muscles she didn’t even know were tight. God, this man. She’d been so frustrated with him earlier and now she couldn’t even think straight she was so blissed out.

Becca was utterly disappointed by the time the movie ended. His big, delicious hand left her neck and she glanced over at him. Libby was draped over his side, her mouth open in her sleep. She was adorably sweet, as was the protective way that Hank held her close. “Looks like it’s past bedtime,” she whispered.

He didn’t get up, though. He just glanced over at her with a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Tonight was easier,” he murmured, voice low.

“Easier?”

“Easier to talk to you. Easier to be around you. I felt like a big idiot at the restaurant. Like I wasn’t fancy enough for you.” His mouth flattened into a hard line. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable? Becca shook her head, startled at the confession. “You just seemed like you didn’t want to be there with me.”

“There? Not really. But with you? Absolutely.”

And that made her feel warm and fuzzy. “All I wanted to do was spend time with you,” she confessed. “Get to know you better. I’m not interested in fancy restaurants or anything like that. I’m not going out with you for a steak. I can buy my own.” Becca gave him a wry smile. “I’m going out with you because you’re tall and strong, and kind and thoughtful, and you have a cute daughter that you think the world of.”