Greg drew back in surprise at her words. “Wow. That’s harsh. You don’t sound like you. I’m shocked.”

No, it didn’t sound much like her . . . but, gosh, it felt good to call him on his bullshit. “Greg, we’ve been broken up for two years now. Our longest breakup ever. This one’s sticking. I don’t care how blue your balls turn, but you’re not coming back into my life.”

He looked stung for a moment, then gave her another charming smile and leaned in, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Ugh. But, no, he only moved close and whispered, “You don’t think I realize I made a mistake? That I realize what I lost? I—”

A car door slammed and both of them jumped.

Across the street, Becca saw Hank’s big body as he glared at the two of them, storming his way around to the far side of his truck. He opened the door, gently picked up his daughter from the back seat, and then stormed toward them on the porch. He had a black scowl on his face, his expression like a thundercloud.

Oh. Had he come into town to talk to her? Something fluttered in her chest. It might be hope.

Hank scowled at Greg, one hand on his daughter’s back, the other arm under her legs as he walked up to the porch of Becca’s salon. Becca noticed that his glares were entirely for Greg, and when he looked at Becca, his expression turned downright protective. He loomed over Greg, stepping so close that Greg took a few steps backward. That seemed to satisfy Hank, and he put his back to the man, turning toward Becca.

“Can you take Libby inside, please?” Hank’s voice was strangely pleasant.

She tilted her head at him, curious. “Is everything okay?”

“Libby wants to go inside,” he said, oh so nicely again, and gave her a pointed look. “So Daddy can take care of business on the porch.”

And he turned and shot Greg a look of pure hatred.

Oh.

It took Becca a moment to realize that Hank had positioned himself between her and Greg, and that his stance was one of protectiveness. His voice was sweet because he didn’t want Libby to realize there was a problem, the little girl sucking her thumb and looking at Becca with sleepy eyes. Hank shot her another meaningful look and she realized he wanted her to take Libby inside because he was going to . . . do something to Greg. Beat him up? Scare him? She didn’t know, but it was clear he was feeling very protective of Becca, and for some reason, she loved the hell out of it.

“Hank,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “I’m not taking Libby from you. But . . . you are going to come inside with me. Greg was just leaving.”