by Susan Meier
“Hey, sweetie. Want some cereal?”
Her daughter’s grin grew and she nodded.
Missy rolled out of bed. Normally she was already in shorts and a T-shirt before she went to the kitchen. Today she was so far behind she didn’t have time to change. Still, she slept in pajama pants and a tank top. There was no reason to change or even to find a robe. She sleepily padded from her bedroom in the back corner of the downstairs into the kitchen. As she got cereal from the cupboard and Claire climbed onto a chair, Lainie and Owen ambled into the kitchen. They also climbed onto chairs.
She’d barely gotten cocoa chunks cereal into three bowls and a pot of coffee on before there was a knock at her door. Without waiting for her to invite him in, Wyatt entered.
“Are you here to mooch coffee?”
He laughed. “No, but I wouldn’t say no if you’d offer me a cup.”
She motioned for him to take a seat at the table, grabbed a cup from the cupboard and poured some coffee into it for him.
When she set it in front of him, his gaze touched on her tank top, then rippled down to her pajama pants. “I guess I’m early for the van shopping.”
She stifled the warmth and pleasure that saturated her at his obvious interest. Saturday they’d decided against any kind of relationship because they wanted two different things. Yesterday, when she’d signed the line of credit papers, they’d cemented that. Even if he wanted to get involved with her—which he didn’t—she wouldn’t get involved with a man who owned the “mortgage” on her house.
“You want to go today?”
“No time like the present. My bank wire transferred the hundred grand into a new account set up for you. We can stop at the bank for you to sign the paperwork, and the money will be at your disposal immediately.”
Her attraction to him was quickly forgotten as her heart filled with joy. This was really happening. She was getting a van, a helper... She would expand her business!
“Let me call Nancy to babysit.” Missy popped out of her chair and raced back to the bedroom to get her phone. After Nancy agreed to come over, she hopped into the shower. Halfway done shampooing her hair, she realized she’d left the kids with Wyatt. Without thinking.
She trusted him.
She ducked her hair under the spray. She did trust him.
She waited for her tummy to twist or her breathing to become painful at the thought of trusting someone so easily, so completely, that she didn’t even think to ask him to mind the kids, but nothing happened.
She finished her shower, fixed her hair and slid into jeans and a blue T-shirt. In a way she was glad they’d decided on Saturday night against a relationship, because her feelings for him had nothing to do with her attraction—or his. The trust she felt for him was simple, honest. Just as she’d realized his lending her money was like something a friend would do to make up for a wrong, her leaving her kids without thought was also the act of a friend.
They were becoming friends.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she walked into the kitchen to find Wyatt filling the sink with soapy water as her children brought their cereal bowls to him.
“How’d you get them to do that?”
“Bribery.”
Her mouth fell open. “Wyatt—”
“Relax. I promised them another trip to my grandmother’s house to look through boxes. Nothing sinister like ice cream.”
She casually walked to the table. “Ice cream isn’t a bad idea.”
He turned from the sink. “It isn’t?”
“No. There’s a nice place a mile or so out of town.” She peeked at him, testing this friendship they were forming. Though her stomach jumped a bit at how handsome he was, she reminded herself that was normal. “Maybe we could take the kids there when I get the van. You know? Use getting ice cream as a maiden voyage.”
He appeared surprised. “Sounds great.”
Nancy knocked on the door and walked into the kitchen. “I heard there’s a bunch of kids here who want to play house with me.”
The girls jumped for joy. “Yay!”
But Owen deflated.
Wyatt stooped down to talk to him. “Don’t worry. Van shopping won’t take all day. And when we get back you can do whatever you want.”
“Wook for tweasure?”
“Sure.”
Missy’s heart swelled. If they hadn’t had the talk about their relationship she’d be in serious danger of falling in love with this guy. But they had had the talk. Then he’d overheard her argument with her father. And now they were friends.
Outside, she rummaged through her purse for her SUV keys. But when she reached the driver’s side door, she noticed he hadn’t followed.
“Aren’t you sick of that beast yet?”
She laughed. “What?”
He jangled his keys. “It’s such a beautiful day. Let’s take the bike.”
Happiness bubbled in her veins. “I haven’t been on a bike since high school.”
He grabbed the thin shrub branch and pushed it aside for her. “Then it’s time.”
With a laugh, she dipped under and walked over to the garage door. He opened it and there sat his shiny black bike.
“I don’t have a helmet.”
“You can use mine.”
He handed her the helmet and straddled the bike.
She licked her suddenly dry lips. For all her fancy, happy self-talk that morning about being glad they were becoming friends, the thought of straddling the bike behind him sent shivers up her spine.
She’d danced with him. She’d kissed him. She knew the potency of his nearness.
And in spite of all that happy self-talk, she was susceptible. He was good to her. He was good to her kids. And around him she felt like a woman. Not just a mom.
She liked that feeling as much as she liked the idea of being his friend.
“Come on! Don’t be a chicken.”
Glad that he mistook her hesitancy for fear, she sucked in a breath. She could stop this just by saying she’d changed her mind and wanted to take the SUV. But then she’d miss the chance to hold him without worry he’d get the wrong impression. The chance to slide her cheek against his back. The chance to inhale his scent.
And the chance to enjoy him for a few minutes without consequences. Because, God help her, she did like him as more than a friend. He was the one who didn’t want her. And if she refused this chance to be close to him, she’d regret it.
She slid onto the bike.
He revved the engine as she plopped the helmet on her head. Within seconds they shot out of the garage and onto the quiet street. She wrapped her arms around his middle, not out of a desire to hold him, but out of sheer terror.
Then the wind caught her loose hair beneath the helmet and whooshed along her limbs. Gloriously free, she raised her arms, let them catch the breeze and yelled, “Woo hoo!”
She felt rather than heard him laugh. In under five minutes, they were at the bank. She pulled off the helmet and he wrapped the straps around the handlebars before they walked into the lobby.
The customer service representative quickly found her file. Missy signed papers. Wyatt signed papers. And within what seemed like seconds they were on the bike again.
He pulled out onto Main Street and stopped at the intersection. He turned his head and yelled, “What car dealer do you want to go to?”
“I thought you’d know.”
“I haven’t been around here for a while.” He revved the bike and smiled at her. His dark eyes shone with devilishness that called to her. “We could just get on the highway and drive until we find something.”
Part of her wanted to. The kids were cared for. She was in a wonderful, daring mood. And he was so close. So sweet. So full of mischief...
&n
bsp; Mischief with someone she really liked was dangerous to a mother of three who was knee-deep in a fledgling business. She pulled out her phone. “Or I could look up dealers online.”
“Spoilsport.” He revved the bike. “I like my idea better.” He shot out into the street again. They flew down Main Street and again she had to stifle the urge to put her hands in the air and yell, “Woo hoo!”
But she stifled it. Because as much fun as this was, she had to get a van and get home to her kids.
A little voice inside her head disagreed. She didn’t need to get home. Nancy was at the house. The kids were fine. And Missy was out. Out of the house. On her way to buy a van. On her way to having a wonderful future because her business would succeed. She knew it would.
Then she remembered the look of mischief in Wyatt’s eyes. That was why she needed to get home. She liked him. Really liked him. And he wanted an affair. That was a bad combo. She hit a few buttons on her phone and began looking for a used car dealer.
Wyatt got them on the highway. The bike’s speed picked up. Wind rushed at her. The sun warmed her arms. She put her face up and inhaled.
“Find a place yet?”
When Wyatt’s voice whispered in her ear, she almost flew off the bike. He chuckled. “I turned on the mic.” He showed her the mouthpiece hanging from the phone piece in his ear.
She said, “Oh.” She shouldn’t have been surprised by the communications equipment. In his real world, Wyatt probably had every gadget known to mankind. After a few flips through the results of her internet search on her phone screen, she said, “There’s a place right off the highway about a mile down the road.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go.”
They drove the mile, took the exit ramp and stopped in the parking lot of a car dealer. Shiny new cars, SUVs, trucks and vans greeted them.
She slid off the bike. “Wow. There are so many cars here.”
Wyatt smoothed his hand along the fender of a brand-new red truck. “Too bad you need a van.” He whistled as he walked along the back panels. “Look at this thing.”
She laughed. “You should buy it for yourself.”
He lovingly caressed some chrome. “I should.” He turned toward the big building behind the rows and rows of vehicles. “I think I’ll just go find a salesman.”
He came back ten minutes later with a salesman who first told him all the finer points of the brand-new red truck, then turned to her as Wyatt climbed into the truck cab.
“I hear you need a van.”
She smiled slightly. “Yes.”
“Do you know what you want?”
“Yes. A white one.”
He laughed. “No. I was talking about engine size, cargo bay versus seating.”
Wyatt jumped out of the truck. “She wants a V-8, with seats that retract so that she has enough space to deliver goods.”
“What kind of goods? How much space?”
“She bakes wedding cakes. The space doesn’t need to be huge. We just need to know that the van can be easily air-conditioned.”
“Are you sure she doesn’t want to order a refrigerated van?”
Missy opened her mouth to speak, but Wyatt said, “She’s on a limited budget. She doesn’t need to go overboard.”
They looked at several vans. Test drove three. In the end, she bought a white van that was used rather than new. She didn’t know anything about refrigerated vans, but it sounded like something she might need in the future. Given that the used van was twelve thousand dollars less than a new one, she wouldn’t be wasting as much if she decided a year or two from now to get the refrigerated van. Exclusively for business. She might even be able to keep the used van for her kids.
She suddenly felt like a princess—buying what she needed, planning to buy something even better in the future.
They walked into the office to write up the papers for her van. She called the bank and made arrangements to do a wire transfer of the purchase price, then signed on the dotted line.
The salesman stapled her papers together and gave her a set. “Okay. Van will be delivered tomorrow morning.”
He then passed a bunch of papers to Wyatt. “And for the truck.”
He said, “Thanks,” and signed a few things.
The salesman handed him the keys. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. McKenzie. You know, if you get tired of the red one, I also have it in blue and yellow.”
Wyatt laughed.
It was then that it hit her how rich he was. Sure, she’d always known in an abstract way that he had money. But watching him see something he wanted and buy it without a moment’s hesitation or a single second thought made it real. This guy she liked, someone who was a friend, had more money than she could even imagine.
They walked out into the bright sunshine. He slid onto the bike. She put the helmet on her head and got on behind him. As he started off, she slid her arms around his waist and squeezed her eyes shut. He was so far out of her league. So different than anybody she knew.
Sadness made her sigh. Still, she leaned in close to him. Because he couldn’t see her, she let her eyes drift shut, and enjoyed the sensation of just holding him. Because he was tempting. Because she was grateful. Because for once in her life, she really, really wanted somebody, but she was smart enough to know she couldn’t have him.
And if she didn’t take this chance to hold him, to feel the solidness of him beneath her chest, she might not ever get another.
When they returned to his gram’s, she removed the helmet. He looped the strap over the handlebars.
“So? Fun?”
She refused to let her sadness show and spoil their day. “Oh, man. So much fun. I loved the bike ride, but I loved buying the van even more. I’ve never been able to get what I wanted. I’ve always had to take what I could afford.”
He grinned. “It’s a high, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I’m not going to let myself get too used to it. For me, it’s all part of getting my business up and running.”
He nodded. “So, go feed the kids lunch and I’ll be over around two to play with Owen.”
She said, “Okay,” and turned to go, but then faced Wyatt again. He was great. Honest. Open. Generous. And she’d always had her guard up around him. But now he knew her secret. He knew the real her. And he still treated her wonderfully.
She walked over and stood on her tiptoes. Intending to give him a peck on his check, in the last second she changed her mind. When her toes had her tall enough to reach his face, she kissed his lips. One soft, quick brush of her mouth across his that was enough to send electricity to her toes.
“Thanks.”
He laughed. “I’d say you’re welcome, but you owed me that kiss.”
“I did?”
“If you’d kept our date graduation night, you’d have kissed me.”
“Oh, really?”
“I might have been a geek, but that night I knew what I wanted and I was getting it.”
She laughed, but stopped suddenly.
“What?”
She shook her head, turned away. “It’s nothing.”
He caught her hand and hauled her back. “It’s something.”
She stared at the front of his T-shirt. “The first day you arrived, I wanted to say I was sorry I broke that date.” She swallowed. “I was all dressed to go, on my way to the door...” She looked up. “But my dad hit my mom. Bloodied her lip.”
Wyatt cursed. “You don’t have to tell me this.”
“Actually, I want to. I think it’s time to let some of this out.” She held his gaze. “I trust you.”
“Then why don’t we go into the house and you can tell me the whole story?”
She almost told him she should get back to the kids, but her need
to rid herself of the full burden of this secret told her to take a few minutes, be honest, let some of this go.
She nodded and they walked to the back door of his grandmother’s house and into her kitchen. He made a pot of coffee, then leaned against the counter.
“Okay...so what happened that night?”
“We’d had a halfway decent graduation. It was one of those times when Dad had to be on his best behavior because we were in public, so everything went well. I actually felt normal. But driving home, he stopped at a bar. When he got home, he freaked out. He’d been on good behavior so long he couldn’t keep up the pretense anymore and he exploded. He slammed the kitchen door, pivoted and hit my mom. Her lip was bleeding, so I took her to the sink to wash it off and get ice, and he just turned and punched Althea, slamming her into the wall.” Missy squeezed her eyes shut, remembering. “It was a nightmare, but then again lots of times were like that.”
“Scary?”
She caught his gaze. “More than scary. Out of control. Like playing a game where the rules constantly change. What made him happy one day could make him angry the next. But even worse was the confusion.”
“Confusion worse than changing rules?”
She swallowed. “Emotional, personal confusion.”
Wyatt said nothing. She sucked in a breath. “Imagine what it feels like to be a little girl who wants nothing but to protect her mom, so you step in front of a punch.”
He cursed.
“From that point on, I became fair game to him.”
“He began to beat you, too?”
She nodded. “It was like I’d given him permission when I stepped into the first punch.” She licked her lips. “So from that point on, my choice became watch him beat my mom, or take some of the beating for her.”
Wyatt’s eyes squeezed shut, as if he shared her misery through imagining it. “And you frequently chose to be beaten.”
“Sometimes I had to.”
She walked to the stove, ran her finger along the shiny rim. “But that night he couldn’t reach me. I’d taken my mother to the sink, stupidly believing that without anyone to hit, he’d get frustrated and head for the sofa. But he went after Althea.”