by Susan Meier
Wyatt’s blood froze, then heated to boiling and roared through his veins. “Best men come on to you?”
“And ushers and fathers of the bride—or groom.” She stepped into his personal space. “But I’m a big girl. I can handle myself with bad boys.”
He snorted. “Oh, really?”
“You think I can’t?”
His hands slipped around the back of her neck, pulling her face to his as he lowered his head. His lips met hers in a flurry of passion and desire. He expected her to back off, to be stunned—at the very least surprised. Instead, she met him need for need. When his tongue slipped into her mouth, she responded like someone as starved for this as he was.
Heat exploded in his middle, along with a feeling so foreign he couldn’t have described it to save his life. Part need, part entitlement, part something dark and wonderful, it fueled the fire in his soul and nudged him to go further, take what he wanted, salve this crazy ache that dogged him every time he was around her.
The door opened and sounds from the wedding below billowed inside. Missy jerked away, her eyes filled with fire. From passion or from anger, Wyatt couldn’t tell.
She pulled a tissue from her pocket, quickly dabbed her lips, turned and faced the bride, groom and photographer with a smile.
“Come in. We’re all set up.”
* * *
What the hell was that?
Missy smiled at the bride and groom, leading them and the wedding party to the Eiffel Tower cake. As the crowd gushed, complimenting the detail, retelling the story of how the groom had proposed, her thoughts spun away again.
Had Wyatt kissed her out of jealousy?
Her stomach knotted. He’d absolutely been jealous. But she’d bet her bottom dollar the kiss hadn’t been out of jealousy, but was meant to teach her a lesson. She’d responded to prove she was able to take care of herself. And instead...
Well, she’d knocked them both for a loop.
The question was—
How did they deal with it?
The bride and groom posed for pictures with the cake, along with their parents and the bridal party. They served each other a bite of the cake as the photographer snapped more pictures. Almost as quickly as they’d come, they left, taking the bridal party with them.
And the room went silent.
Missy sighed, calmly walking to the cake table, though inside she was scrambling for something to say. Anything to get both their minds off that kiss.
“My best cake ever and I won’t be getting any referrals from it.”
He didn’t even glance at her. “How do you know?”
Either he wasn’t happy about being jealous or he wasn’t happy that this kiss had been better than their first. “Only the wedding party and the bride and groom saw it.”
He sniffed a laugh. “Give people time to taste it. You’ll get your referrals.”
“That’s just it. They didn’t leave instructions to serve it.” She sighed. “I’m going to find the bride’s mom.”
With that, she left, and Wyatt collapsed against the silent, empty bar behind him. He didn’t need to wonder what had happened when they kissed. He didn’t need to probe why he’d been jealous. He was falling for her. A few weeks past his divorce and like a sucker he was falling for somebody new.
He couldn’t let it happen. Not just to protect himself, but to protect her. She didn’t want to fall in love with a guy who wasn’t ready for a commitment, any more than he wanted to fall in love so soon after he’d ended his marriage. Only beginning to get her feet wet with her business, she wanted the fun, the thrill, of stepping into her destiny. Of making money. Running the show.
Her response to his kiss had started out as a way to tell him to back off, that she could handle herself. No matter that it ended up with both of them aroused and needy. The original intent had been clear. Now he had to return them to sanity.
Though he was starving, he begged off her homemade dinner and drove ten miles to the next town over to eat meat loaf that was a disgrace. Sunday, he played with the kids but avoided seeing Missy. On Monday morning, however, he arrived at her back door as soon as he saw the kitchen light go on. He knocked twice, then let himself inside.
Without turning around, she said, “Come in, Wyatt.”
The laugh in her voice told him she wasn’t as afraid to be around him as he was to be around her. That served to strengthen his resolve. Wrapped up in her new business venture, she was too busy to dwell on runaway emotions the way he was. Not just the rumble of attraction, the longing to kiss her senseless and make her his, but the urge to protect her, bring her into his home...really make her his.
He knew these urges were wrong. With the ink barely dried on his divorce papers, they could simply be rebound needs. So he had to get hold of himself. To protect himself, but also to protect her. Whether she knew it or not, she was vulnerable. He could be a real vulture when he went after something he wanted. She wouldn’t stand a chance.
And after he got what he wanted, he’d get bored, and he’d leave her hurt and broken.
He would not do that to her.
Since their biggest temptation time seemed to be weddings, there was an easy answer.
“This week we’re going to have to find that assistant for you.”
She walked away from the coffeepot, holding two steaming mugs. She handed one to him and they sat at the table, where all three kids sleepily played with cereal that swam in milk made chocolate by the little bites bobbing in it.
“Did you get any responses to your ad?”
“Lots. I’m just not sure where to interview people.”
“Since you’re going to be baking here at your house, I think the interviews should take place here.”
“Okay.” She sipped her coffee, then smiled. “Want some cocoa bites?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
They called the four candidates Missy deemed best suited for her company, and set up interviews for Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.
Wyatt sat with her through the interview for the first candidate, Mona Greenlee, a short, squat woman who clearly loved food. But after a comment or two at the beginning of the meeting, he stopped talking and let Missy ask her questions, give Mona a tour of the house and introduce her to the kids.
Mona laughed about how unusual it was to bake from a house, but Missy assured her that her kitchen had passed inspection. After she left, Wyatt headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
He turned slowly. When he finally caught her gaze, she saw a light in his eyes that caused her heart to stutter. His focus fell from her eyes to her mouth, then rose again. “You can handle these interviews on your own.”
Though complimented by his faith in her, she got a funny feeling in her stomach. Was he leaving because he was thinking about kissing her?
Remembering the kiss from Saturday made her stomach flip again. That was one great kiss. A kiss she wouldn’t mind repeating. But they’d been attracted to each other right from the beginning and they’d managed to work together in spite of it. Wanting to kiss shouldn’t cause him to leave.
“You don’t want to help?”
“You’re fine without me.”
But I like spending time with you. I like your goofy comments. I like you.
The words swirled around in Missy’s head so much, she almost said them. But she didn’t. First, the intensity of her feelings surprised her, and she needed to think them through. Second, if she’d grown so accustomed to having him around that she didn’t mind having him neb his nose into her business, then maybe things had gone further than she wanted them to.
He didn’t want a relationship. She didn’t want a fling. It was better not to encourage these feelings. And maybe he was right. They shouldn’t spend
so much time together.
She did the next interview alone and didn’t have a problem until Jane Nelson left. Then she scurried outside to find Wyatt. Not to ask for help, but to talk. To tell him about Jane. To show him that she could handle all this alone, and how excited she was.
But when she walked into the backyard where he was playing Wiffle ball with the kids, he barely spoke to her. He complimented the job she had done interviewing Jane, but he didn’t ask questions or go into detailed answers. He was distancing himself from her.
Disappointment followed her back into the house. She didn’t need him, but suddenly everything she did felt empty without him.
At the end of the next two interviews, she didn’t bother looking for Wyatt, but that didn’t stop the emptiness. After so many weeks of having him underfoot, it seemed wrong that he was pulling away from her.
Except he’d be leaving in a few days. Maybe he was preparing them both?
That would be okay, except she didn’t want to be prepared. She wanted to enjoy the last few days she had with him. What was the point of starting the empty feeling early? It would find a home in her soon enough, when he really did leave.
Thursday evening she offered Elaine Anderson the job. She’d blended in best with the chaos and the kids, and was able to start immediately.
To celebrate, Missy made fried chicken, and sent Owen over to get Wyatt. She knew that was a tad underhanded, but after several days of not seeing him, she was tired of wasting the precious little time they had left together. Plus, spending a few days without him had forced her to see that she liked him a lot more than she thought she did. So tonight she intended to figure out what was really going on with him.
If he was upset about their kiss and didn’t want to repeat it, she would back off.
But if he was struggling with jealousy and the lines they’d drawn about their relationship, maybe it was time to change things. He didn’t want a relationship. She didn’t want a fling, but surely they could find a compromise position? Maybe agree to date long distance for a few months to see if this thing between them was something they should pursue.
He strolled over to the picnic table behind bouncing Owen, who was thrilled to be getting his favorite fried chicken, and in general thrilled with life these days. She no longer worried about his transition after Wyatt left. With money to put the kids in day care for four hours every morning, she knew Owen would find friends. Her life was perfect.
Except for the empty feeling she got every time she thought about Wyatt leaving.
But tonight she intended to set this relationship onto one course or another. Either ask him to work something out with her or let him go. And then stick by that decision.
“I hope you like fried chicken.”
He reached for two paper plates, obviously about to help her dish up food for the kids. “I don’t think there’s a person in the world who doesn’t like fried chicken.”
Watching him help Owen get his dinner, she pressed her lips together. There was so much about Wyatt that was likable, perfect. And she wasn’t just talking about his good looks, charm and sex appeal. He liked her kids. Genuinely liked them. Plus, with the exception of the last wedding, they always had fun together. They understood each other.
Hell, he was the first person—the only person—to know her whole story. It didn’t seem right that this had to end.
She put three stars on the plus column for a relationship. He liked her kids. He was fun to be around. He knew her past and didn’t think any less of her for it.
They settled on the worn bench seats, said grace and dug into dinner.
He groaned with ecstasy.
She smiled. Whoever said the way to a man’s heart was his through stomach must have known tall, perpetually hungry Wyatt.
“This is fantastic.”
“Just a little something I can whip up at a moment’s notice.” Not that she was bragging, but it never hurt to remind him that she wasn’t just a businesswoman and mother. There were as many facets to her as there were to any of the women he dated in Florida. She smoothed her palms down the front of her shorts. After cooking the chicken, she’d changed into her best pink shirt, the one her former coworkers told her brought out the best in her skin tones. And thinking of the bikini-clad beach bunnies he probably met in Florida, she was glad she looked her best. But sitting across from him, acknowledging the realities of his life, she fought the doubts that beat at her brain.
How did a thirty-three-year-old mother of triplets compete with beach bunnies?
Should she even try?
Wasn’t she setting herself up for failure?
They ate dinner with Owen and the girls giggling happily. Owen grinned with his mouth full and made Lainie say, “Oh, gross! Tell him to stop that.”
But Missy only smiled, glad to have her mind off Wyatt for a few seconds. It was good to see Owen behave like a little boy. Gross or not.
When they were done eating, Wyatt helped her clear the picnic table and bring everything into the kitchen. She persuaded him to help her tidy up, delaying his visit, but she could see he was eager to go.
Fears and doubts pummeled her. He’d talked so little she was beginning to believe he’d already made up his mind. And if he’d set his course on forgetting her, wouldn’t it be embarrassing to talk about thinking of a compromise for them? That kiss on Saturday, the one that had gotten away from them and knocked both of them to their knees, proved there was something powerful between them. Something she wanted. Something he seemed to be afraid of.
And even now he was straining toward the door.
Owen popped into the kitchen, already bathed. His sisters were now in the tub. With his pajama top on backward, he raced to Wyatt with a huge storybook. Big and shiny, with a colorful cover, it hid half his body.
“You wead this to me?”
“I don’t know, buddy. I should get going.”
Missy waited in silence. She could nudge Wyatt into reading the book, but this was a big part of what she’d want in any man she let into her life. A real love for her kids. Wyatt had shown he loved to play. He’d also shown a certain kinship with Owen. But when the chips were down, when he wanted to leave, would he stay?
He stooped down. “I’m kinda tired.”
Owen rolled his eyes. “It takes five minutes.”
Then the most wonderful thing happened. Wyatt laughed. He laughed long and hard. When he was done, he scooped Owen up, book and all, and carried him down the hall. “Which one’s your room?”
Missy scrambled behind them. “They all still sleep in the same room. I’m waiting until Owen’s a little older before I make him sleep by himself.”
When they reached the bedroom, Wyatt tossed Owen on his bed. He giggled with delight.
The girls ran into the bedroom. Dressed in their pink nighties, they raced to their beds and slid under the covers.
Wyatt sat on the edge of Owen’s bed. He opened the book.
“‘The adventures of Billy Bunny,’” he read, and Missy leaned against the door frame, “‘began behind the barn.’”
He glanced back at Missy. “A lot of alliteration in this thing.”
“Kids like that...and things that rhyme.”
He nodded. “Point taken.”
He turned his attention back to the book. “‘A curious bunny, he spent his days exploring.’”
Missy watched silently, noting how the girls lay on their backs and closed their eyes, letting the words lead them to dreamland. But Owen sat up, looked at the pages, looked at Wyatt with real love in his eyes.
And that’s when Missy fell in love. Or maybe admitted the love she’d had for Wyatt ever since they’d been on his bike and she’d laid her head on his back. This guy wasn’t just sexy and smart. He had a real heart. For her kids. For her—if t
hat kiss was anything to go by.
And she suddenly knew that was why he’d been so closed off. He was falling for her and he didn’t want to be. What he felt for her was about more than sex. And it scared him.
When the story ended, he shut the book. Owen had snuggled into his side, but his eyes drooped.
“Wead it again.”
Wyatt rose, shifting Owen to his pillow as he did so. “You’re sleepy.”
“But I wike it.”
He pulled the covers to Owen’s chin. “And you can hear it again tomorrow.”
Owen’s eyes drifted shut. Missy pushed away from the door frame, smiling at Wyatt as he flicked off the bedside lamp and walked out of the room.
“Thanks.”
He stepped into the hall.
She closed the door behind him. If what he felt for her was about more than sex, more than a fling, then she definitely wanted it. “Want a beer?”
He cleared his throat. “I need to get home.”
“Please? Just five minutes.”
He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “Let’s talk on the porch.”
On the way to her kitchen door, she grabbed two bottles of beer. She understood why he was afraid. If falling for him had scared and confused her, she could only imagine what it felt like to be a newly divorced guy falling for a woman with three needy kids. But she wasn’t asking him to marry her. At least not now. All she wanted was a little time. A visit or two after he returned to his real life, and maybe the option for her and the triplets to visit him this winter.
As the screen door slapped closed behind her, she handed him a beer.
He looked at the bottle, looked at her. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“What? Drink? We’re both over twenty-one. Besides, we limited ourselves to a bottle. We’re strong, mature and responsible that way.”
He let out a sigh. “That’s just it. You are strong and mature and responsible. I am not.”
“You think you’re not, but I see it every day.”
“Trust me. You’re seeing a side of me that few people ever do.”