He bent to ruffle Ellie’s hair, then lifted her, settling her effortlessly against his chest. Muscled forearms flexed as she clung to him, his big hand spanning her back, grounding her squirming energy. The casual strength of it—of him—snagged Ivy’s breath in her throat.
She switched her gaze to her sneakers before she did something appalling like sigh out loud.
Holy hell. Get a grip, Ivy. He’s holding a child, not auditioning for your fantasies.
By the time she dared lift her head, she’d pasted on what she hoped was a composed smile, though heat still trickled at the base of her spine. “Ryder. Hi.”
“Ivy.” He nodded toward his daughter, who rested her cheek on his shoulder—his broad, maddeningly solid shoulder. “You two have already met?”
“We have.” She pushed herself up from the concrete, brushing dust from her knees, scrambling to corral her runaway hormones. “She’s a talented engineer.”
“Fix helichopper, Daddy.”
“Is that right, bug?” His eyes warmed as he ruffled her hair again before setting her back down. She bounded off.
“How’s your head?”
“My head? Um, good thanks.” She held out the jacket. “I came to return this.”
Ryder’s gaze flicked to the leather in her hands, then back to her face. “You didn’t have to make a special trip.” He crouched to scoop up stray bits of Lego. “I swear. These things multiply when I’m not looking. One day they’ll own the hangar.”
“Yes. I did—” She froze as he looked up at her, his intelligent eyes catching hers. Heat licked across her cheeks. “I mean, you went above and beyond yesterday. The least I can do is—well—return the favor properly.”
Brilliant. Now I sound like a deranged jacket courier.
He rose, closing the space between them. Soap and motor oil threaded the air—a mix that shouldn’t smell good, but somehow did. When he reached for the jacket, his callused fingers brushed hers, and heat blazed up her arm. “Thank you, Ivy.”
Her feet itched to retreat, to turn and march back toward safe, simple responsibility—a life that didn’t have room for Coast Guard medics and their adorable Lego-flying daughters. But her fingers still tingled where his had brushed them, rooting her in place. “Um…is Ellie here often?”
“Daycare is closed today—staff training—and I can only ask my sister-in-law so many times.” Ryder glanced toward his daughter. “Ellie likes it here. Lots of space to build things.”
No wife?Her chest loosened before she caught herself. Ridiculous. Entirely inappropriate. She shouldn’t care.
“She seems very happy.” Ivy smiled at Ellie.
“She’s an expert at finding joy in small things.” His gaze tracked Ellie with quiet intensity, as if joy were something he could see but not quite touch.
Ellie chose that moment to crash-land her helicopter directly into Ivy’s legs, giggling as she looked up. “Help build airyport?”
Ivy glanced toward Ryder, who shrugged. “Your call. Fair warning though—Ellie’s airyports tend to be architectural marvels.”
Ellie bounced on her toes. “Airyport!”
For once, no one needed Ivy to solve a crisis or balance an account. They just wanted her to play, and Ryder was watching like he was curious what she’d choose.
The smart thing would be to leave.
She smiled. “I’ve got some time. I’d love to build an airyport.”
10
Ryder had been trying notto think about Ivy since she’d walked out of the hangar that morning. Useless effort. She kept slipping in anyway—her laugh, her smile, the easy way she’d fit with Ellie.
So, he dropped Ellie at his mom’s—baking cookies—and headed into town for a truck part.
He needed the distraction.
Mitch’s garage was its usual chorus of banging metal, muttered cursing, and oil thick enough to taste.
