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My insides turned to mush. Jimmy would approve. I tamped down the faint wish for more than brotherly concern from him.

“Thanks, Ty. You didn’t have to do that.”

His gruff, “I know,” brooked no argument.

It was clear from his grouchy tone that he already regretted the impulse.

I glanced back to my usually trusty Camry, noting that someone had also scraped the windows clear of ice. Ty again? Unless I had a window fairy, the man had gotten out of his warm car to prep mine. Warmth rushed through me, making my heart beat fast. I’d dated men that wouldn’t think to do that after the world’s best blow job, let alone with no incentive whatsoever.

I glanced back, but he’d already put up his window, ending our discussion.

Rude. But then again, I wasn’t at my best before coffee either. And he’d shown up, out of what I could only assume was the goodness of his heart, to make sure I made it to court on time, minus any pesky car trouble.

I breathed a sigh of relief when my engine turned over, glad I didn’t have to ask Ty to get out of his warm car yet again to jump mine.

He pulled ahead as soon as he saw the exhaust from my tailpipe, and I followed him across town to the courthouse.

The sweetness of his gesture stayed with me as I parked, noting he waited for me by the building entrance. He remained a silent shadow as we made our way through security. Today’s knitting bag had a hint of sunshine-y yellow peeking out the top, and the bright shade made me smile. Ty may not be the cheeriest person, but his act of kindness this morning hit me in the Jiffy Pop yet again.

Dressed in slacks and a gray button-down under a wool jacket, he resembled the picture of masculine maturity. Like the kind of guy who would check that your car started on a cold morning and help scrape the ice. Also like the kind of guy who might turn down a drunken invitation.

I scowled. Had I ruined any chance I had of even friendship with Ty, approaching him like that? Had he written me off as too much? Too sloppy? Too outspoken? I rubbed at the sudden ache in my chest. Why was I only lovable when I minimized myself? I could only keep up the ruse so long before the real, messy, me leaked out. And invariably men ran. It helped me think of him platonically when I remembered that Ty had been no exception.

I straightened my shoulders. Ty may have his charms, but if he didn’t appreciate mine, he wasn’t the man for me. I was done making myself less for the people in my life. Done making myself smaller for anyone, personally or professionally.

We passed through building security together, the guard teasing Ty about not weaponizing his knitting needles as a county employee. My sneaking suspicion that his status as a 911 operator brought him special privileges for his crafting supplies was confirmed, but I couldn’t really fault him. Listening to the prosecutor drone on might be easier if I had something to do with my hands too. The novelty of court was quickly wearing off. Ty held the door for the jury room for me, grunting softly at my nod of thanks.

I smiled at Shelly as I slumped into the chair next to her, taking a sip from my travel mug.

“Ahoy, matey.”

Bless her. It was too early for pirate talk. I sketched a quick salute. “Captain.”

Her delighted grin eased some of the grouchiness I had no business feeling. Ty had done something sweet. Just because it reminded me of everything I couldn’t have, that was no reason to take my disappointment out on Shelly.

“Are you ready for another thrilling day of testimony?”

I didn’t bother to hold back my groan.

Ramon escorted us into the courtroom, and I couldn’t help glancing back at Ty as we took our seats. His big body filled out the office chair, his knitting needles and yarn heaped in his lap. He caught my glance and raised his needles in a silent acknowledgement.

I did my best to focus on the first witness, but thoughts of Ty’s caring, his calm strength, kept intruding, knowing he sat a few feet away. I could hear the soft clack of his needles, and picturing his long, dexterous fingers moving nimbly shouldn’t have been more intriguing than Alex Hernandez’s testimony, but somehow made me wish I could watch him instead.

Alex Hernandez sat confidently on the witness stand, his dark hair tamed and combed away from his rounded cheeks. The goatee covering his chin in dark stubble helped age him. Without it, he’d look like a sturdy new high school grad. Only his relaxed shoulders and obvious ease at being the center of attention signaled his experience in professional sports.

The rumpled prosecutor began his questions easily, his tone soothing. “Mr. Hernandez, tell the court, in your own words, what happened the day of September fifth?”

Mr. Hernandez cast a quick glance toward Mr. Shepherd, his frown helping confirm the earlier vision of him as a friendly teddy bear.

“September fifth was a Friday. I’d only been home from our game a few hours when the noise woke me up.”

“And what noise was that?”

“This pendejo set off my alarm.”

“Objection. Conjecture, your honor,” the defense broke in.

“Mr. Hernandez, please refrain from name calling in my court. Only state what you saw with your own eyes, not what you think happened,” Judge Ye said.