I had ever seen. Average height, with golden hair, the same wheat color as her daughter’s, swept up off her face, and she had the most captivating eyes. Large, wide, dark pools set in a face I could only describe as mesmerizing. Rounded cheeks, full lips, and a stubborn chin that, at the moment, was raised in confusion. I cleared my throat and spoke.
“Look, Chloe. There’s your mommy.”
Before she could move, I hurried toward the strange woman, talking fast. “She was upset and jumped up for a hug. I wasn’t—”
She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “I saw.” She opened her arms. “Chloe, baby, come here.”
I transferred my little hugger to her mother, frowning when she bit back a grimace of pain.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I twisted my ankle. It’s nothing.”
Before she could protest, I dropped to my knees, peering at the appendage. It was slightly swollen over the top of her sneaker, and I frowned.
“You should let me look at this.”
“And why should I do that?” she challenged, glaring down at me. Her brown eyes were filled with fire, pinning me with her gaze.
I stood, meeting her fire with determination of my own. “Because I’m a doctor.”
“A doctor?”
“A pediatric doctor.”
“I’m not a child,” she stated dryly.
I didn’t tell her I had noticed exactly how un-childlike she was. Instead, I smiled. “Bones are bones. That never changes.”
“S-S-Stitch,” Chloe hiccupped.
“We’ll find him,” her mother promised, turning to leave.
“After I look at your ankle,” I insisted, halting her departure by gently grabbing her arm. “Please.”
She hesitated but agreed. As she tried to step forward, she made a low sound of pain. I stopped her forward motion. “Wait. Give me Chloe.”
I wasn’t sure who was more surprised when Chloe didn’t argue, but instead, she reached out her arms. I placed her on my hip, then wrapped my free arm around her mother’s waist. “Lean on me,” I instructed.
We limped to the bench, and I set Chloe on the wooden seat, then helped her mother lower herself down. I bent over her foot. “May I?” I indicated her ankle.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked humorously.
I had to chuckle. “Of course, but I’d prefer you said yes.”
She regarded me for a moment. “Thank you,” she said simply.
I tugged off her sneaker, then examined her foot, taking care to move it slowly and gently.
“Not broken,” I assured her. “But sprained.”
“Okay.”
I reached into my messenger bag and pulled out a tensor bandage. I didn’t expect the sudden bark of laughter. I glanced up in surprise, enthralled once again by the vision of prettiness in front of me. Her dark eyes were lit with amusement, and her smile was wide. Two deep dimples appeared in her cheeks. She was enthralling, and I found myself returning her smile.
“What’s so funny?”
“You carry bandages with you?”
I winked. “Today, yes. Yesterday, I had some enemas in my bag.”
“Guess it’s my lucky day.”
“Guess so.”
Still chuckling, I bent over and swiftly bandaged her foot. After slipping back on her sneaker, I had her stand, and she took a few test steps.
“It feels better,” she said with a sigh. “Supported.”
I stood. “Good. Ice it. Try to stay off it. Keep it up. It should be fine in a few days.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I turned to Chloe, who was watching us quietly, her knees tucked up to her chest. “Now, you, Pumpkin. This koala of yours. You had juice together? Then he disappeared?”
She screwed up her face, thinking. “Yes,” she stated emphatically.
“Where was this juice fest?”
Chloe tapped the bench. “Here.”
“Hmm.” I scratched my neck. “I didn’t see him, ah, her when I got here.”
“Him. Stitch.”
“Stitch. Right.”
I glanced at Chloe’s mom. “With your permission, I’ll walk around a bit with Chloe, and we’ll look for Stitch.” I handed her my phone. “You take this and give me yours. I’ll film where we go so you know I’m not trying to ah, nab, her or anything. You can track us. You stay off that ankle.”
“On one condition.”
“Sure.”
“You tell me your name.”
I held out my hand. “Ian. Ian Taylor.”
“Dr. Ian Taylor?” she asked.
“Yes. Should I just call you Chloe’s mom?”
That smile appeared again. The one that lit her face and brought out her dimples. “Samantha.” As she spoke, she slipped her hand into mine. I closed my fingers around hers, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin. How well her hand fit with mine. I also noticed she didn’t wear a wedding ring.
“Nice to meet you, Samantha.”
There was a strange feeling of regret when