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I stare at him, because the sentence doesn’t make sense.

“Could you repeat that?”

“I’ve come to take Lucy to school.”

That’s what I thought he said. The refusal comes automatically. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. But here I am.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, wavering in my not-very-firm resolve. I could get a lot done if I don’t have to take |Lucy to school. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“I’m sure and you won’t.”

Before I can say anything, Lucy’s footsteps come pattering across the landing and she appears at the top of the stairs clutching Bun.

She stops immediately when she sees Ashby. “You came back.”

Ashby looks up at her. “I said I would.”

Simple sentence.

Tiny thing.

But Lucy visibly relaxes in a way that almost physically hurts me to watch, because it says that reliability and consistency have become notable enough to surprise her.

“That’s suspiciously wholesome,” I mutter under my breath.

Ashby hears me anyway. “That’s me to a tee.”

He holds one coffee out toward me. I take it carefully, my fingers briefly brushing his.

It’s a mistake. The fleeting contact carries entirely too much awareness now, after what happened on the couch.

After his hands in my hair and his mouth against mine and the terrifying realization that calm men apparently become catastrophically attractive the second they start looking at you like you matter.

I clear my throat and step back. “You don’t actually need to chauffeur us around, you know.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

Ashby considers it for exactly one beat too long. “Because you look tired enough to hallucinate while driving.”

“That’s quite rude,” I tell him, unable to help smiling. “Accurate, unfortunately, but still rude.”

Twenty minutes later, Lucy sits in Ashby’s backseat buckled in with Bun as I attempt to answer emails from my phone in the passenger seat.

Attempt being the critical word, because instead of focusing on work, I’m really watching Ashby drive.

Not obviously.

I’m not insane.

Surreptitiously.

He drives exactly the way he does everything else, smoothly, capably, with intent. One hand on the wheel, attention constantly moving. He notices traffic before it shifts, anticipates lights before they change.

Predictive driving.