The table had already been set for two, and Kayla went to the cupboard for another bowl and a bread plate. She turned to take them to the table and almost collided with Wyatt. He was right there, sleeveless hoodie and all that sex appeal way too up close and personal. Close enough that she could hear him breathing and feel his body heat. Mmm. He smelled good, too, like soap and clean man. He must’ve showered before coming to knock on her door.
“Do you ever go without a hood?” she blurted. Nerves. It had to be nerves. Was it her fault her eyes had a mind of their own and roamed all over his face? He had such a nice mouth. Wide. Generous. Kissable.
His brow rose even higher, and his oh-so-sexy brown eyes took on a teasing glint. “Occasionally I’ll sleep without a hood on, but that’s about it.” He took the plate and bowl from her, his fingers sliding over hers.
“Is it because of the scars? Do they bother you, because they’re not that bad, you know. You’re a really nice-looking man.”
“As to the first part, yes. The scars bother me. I used to get teased a lot when I was a kid, and people stare.” He shrugged. “Being stared at is uncomfortable. I know the hoods don’t hide them, but they’re a habit. As to the second part, I’m glad you think I’m nice looking.”
Again, a current of tingly goodness shot through her. She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth and turned off the burner under the soup. Kayla took a spoon and knife from a drawer and brought them to the table. “Were you always shy, or is it something that happened after your accident, with the scars and the stares?” What was with her mouth today?
Wyatt chuckled. “Did you compile a things-to-ask-my-neighbor list this week or something?”
“No. I’m sorry. None of my business.” Once she’d transferred the soup into a serving bowl and placed everything in the middle of her table, she took her place.
“I want lots of noodles, Mommy.”
“Have you forgotten how to say please?”
“Lots of noodles, please and thank you.” Brady shot her a disgruntled look.
“That’s better.” Kayla split a muffin for her son and filled his soup bowl with mostly noodles before serving herself.
“I don’t mind your questions. I’ve always been shy,” Wyatt said, touching her fingers again as he took the ladle from her. “My third-grade teacher wanted to have me tested for special education. That was long before my accident and before I lost my parents. Mrs. Wright thought I was mildly mentally impaired, because I never said a word in class, and I wasn’t very social at recess or during free time.” He shook some pepper into his soup. “She even accused me of having my brother or sister do my homework for me.”
“Oh, man. What an awful thing to do to a little kid just because they’re quiet,” she said.
He nodded. “My mom and dad were livid. They told my teacher in no uncertain terms there was nothing wrong with me. I was just shy and introverted. My parents brought in some of the things I’d done at home, samples of my work to share during a meeting about me at my school.”
Kayla’s heart broke for Wyatt. Her own son was shy, and the thought of a teacher misinterpreting his silence for any kind of deficit brought on a rush of protectiveness for her little guy—and for Wyatt. “What kind of work?”
“I was already drawing comic books and writing stories by then.” He flashed her a crooked smile. “Being a member of a family in the construction industry, I’d also learned what tape measures, T squares and levels were for about the same time I stopped wearing diapers.”
“How old was that?” Brady piped in. “I was potty trained before I was two. Right, Mommy?”
Kayla chuckled. “That’s right.”
“Like I said.” Wyatt winked at Brady. “You’re Superkid. I would expect nothing less.”
Brady basked in Wyatt’s praise, and her insides warmed. “Go on with your story,” she prompted.
“OK. Well, thanks to my dad and my granddad, I’d been figuring area and perimeter and designing fortresses and stuff for my superheroes since second grade. Mom and Dad brought in a pile of drawings and stories I’d written, things I’d built with scraps of wood.”
He grunted. “I’ll never forget that meeting, which included my teacher, the principal, the school psychologist and the special education team. My parents also brought all my glowing report cards from kindergarten on up to when I was placed in Mrs. Wright’s third-grade classroom. They set her straight about who did my homework, and it was pretty obvious to everyone that Mrs. Wright was completely wrong. Instead of getting tested for special education, I was moved to a different classroom.”
“Wow.”
“Yep.” He nodded and took a spoonful of her homemade soup. “Mmm.”
“No, I mean wow. That’s the most you’ve ever said to me at once,” she teased.
Of course that caused his face to color up.
“I’ll bet you can’t tell a lie to save your life, can you?”
“Probably not, which is why I didn’t even try to get away with anything as a teen.” Wyatt reached for his muffin and peeled the paper from the sides. “Great soup. I know who to call when I’m sick with a cold. Did you make the muffins too?”
She did a little basking of her own. “They’re store bought. I do bake, but not so much in the summer. It gets so hot in here when I use the oven, and I don’t have the time during the weekdays anyway.”
“Oh, right. You have school and all. How was your day?” he asked, breaking off a piece of muffin and popping it into his mouth.
He asked as if he really wanted to know, and another flood of warmth washed through her. When was the last time a man in her life cared enough to ask how her day had been? “It was good. I get to work on actual people now, which is a lot more interesting than being in classes all day.”
“Did you always want to be a dental hygienist?”
Her gaze touched upon her son for a second, and the familiar mixture of unconditional love and regret tightened her chest. “Not really. I wanted a four-year degree, and I’d been accepted at Iowa State.” Of course, her plans had fallen apart once she’d found out she was pregnant. A lot of dreams got squashed after that. Not just hers.
“After my husband passed, I got an insurance settlement, and I receive survivor benefits. I figured I’d use some of the insurance money to go to school and opted for a program I could finish in a couple of years. I need to come out with an employable skill, and dental hygienists are in demand right now. I’ve thought about becoming a maxillofacial surgical assistant. Maybe at some point I’ll continue my education. We’ll see.”
“Smart.” Wyatt’s eyes filled with an appreciation as he regarded her. “You’re a great mom, Kayla, and Brady is an amazing little boy.”
Her eyes filled so fast she had no chance to shut off the tears before they leaked down her face. “Thanks,” she whispered, grabbing a napkin to blot her cheeks. Hearing this funny, sweet, creative man say something so nice about her, seeing her son bask in the warmth of Wyatt’s praise . . . He’d managed to get through a few cracks in the shell she wore around her heart. “Gah. Let’s change the subject.”
“Whoa, I didn’t mean to—”
“Mommy, are you crying?” Brady’s tone held a note of anxiety.
“I accidentally bit my tongue. That’s all, kiddo. I’m fine.” She straightened, drew in a breath and pulled herself together. She did a pretty good job too, but then Wyatt placed his hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze, and she almost fell apart again.
“Guess what I have for dessert, you two?” she asked.
“What?” Brady asked, and both of them looked to her with identical expressions of avid interest.
“Oreo-cookie ice cream.”
“All right!” Wyatt held out his palm to Brady, and they high-fived each other.
Kayla laughed. “You two are so easy to please.” She sucked in a breath as the impact of her words registered. Nothing had been easy with Brady’s dad. He’d turned
everything into an argument and a struggle. Oh, she liked to fool herself into thinking she didn’t want to date because of school and Brady, but her aversion to involvement ran way deeper.
By the time they’d all finished eating, the pot of soup, which was supposed to have lasted for a few more meals, had been reduced to just enough for her school lunch tomorrow. She probably shouldn’t feel so pleased that Wyatt had eaten three helpings, but she was. Kayla started to clear the table. Wyatt helped, and then he wiped down the kitchen counters, brushing her arm and bumping into her at every turn. Again.
“This kitchen is too small for two people,” she huffed, her poor nerves stretched to the point of snapping. “Let’s go read your comic book. I’ll do the dishes after Brady goes to bed.”
“OK.” Wyatt folded the dishcloth he was holding and draped it over the faucet. “If you want, I can stay and help clean up.”
Oh, man. That was a shade of red she hadn’t seen on his face before. Offering to stay must have been really difficult for him. She said nothing and gestured toward the living room. Brady was already there, turning the pages of Wyatt’s comic book to look at the illustrations. “You shouldn’t touch Wyatt’s comic book without permission, buddy.”
Brady’s face fell, and he put his hands behind his back. “I was jus’ looking. I wasn’t touching.”
“It’s OK, Superkid. That’s a copy.” Wyatt placed his hand at the small of Kayla’s back as they moved to the couch. “I keep the originals in a cabinet,” he said, leaning close. “The copies are for show-and-tell, so I don’t mind if Brady wants to page through the pictures on his own.”
Her breath caught, and a tingle spread from the point of contact through her entire being. “You know what? I’m going to let you read to Brady, and I’m going to do the dishes.” She stepped away from his alluring every-damn-thing-about-him self. “I can hear you reading from the kitchen anyway.”
Peeking at him out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but catch the way his face fell, just like Brady’s had when she’d told him not to touch the comic book. If Wyatt knew how he affected her, he’d understand, but she wasn’t about to open that can of awkward. “I’ll join you two when I’m finished. It won’t take more than a few minutes.” Yeah, she’d stretch it out as long as she had to.
“All right.” Wyatt joined Brady on the couch.
Kayla returned to the safety of her kitchen. Thou shalt not covet another woman’s fiancé. She was pretty sure if the Ten Commandments were to be rewritten for modern times, that one would be on the list, number two or three at least. She filled the plastic tub in her sink with sudsy water, bowls and plates.
By the time the dishes were clean, Wyatt had finished reading his comic book. She’d heard everything, including Brady’s endless questions. She’d been impressed with how patient Wyatt was with her son. He’d answered every one without a hint of exasperation. Kayla walked into her living room. Her insides melted again at the sight of Brady leaning against Wyatt, one of his hands placed trustingly on Wyatt’s forearm.
“That was a great story. Lots of action, and I’m so glad Elec Tric chose to go with the good side.” She grinned. “Have you done an agent search yet?”
“Nope. Not yet. Summer is the busy season for construction, and I haven’t really had the chance to give it much thought.” He gathered his comic book pages together into a neat pile and put the clip back on the upper corner. “I’ll get to it this coming winter.”
“Right. But then it’ll be wedding stuff taking up all of your spare time.”
“Other than the bachelor party, I don’t really have a lot to do with the busy stuff.” Wyatt tousled Brady’s hair as he rose from his place beside her son.
“I suppose not. All you have to do is show up.” Kayla’s stomach clutched at the thought. “Thanks so much for sharing your comic books with us, Wyatt. They’re really good.”
“You’re welcome. It’s great to have someone to share them with. My work mostly sits on a shelf.” Wyatt crossed the room to the door. “Thanks for feeding me tonight. In case our paths don’t cross before next Monday, I’ll be by for you at six. Let me know before then if I need to pick up a cousin to sit with Brady.”
“I will.” When Wyatt finally disappeared down the stairs, she closed the door. “Are you ready for a bath?” She ran her fingers through her son’s thick hair, so like hers.
“Can I have toys this time?” he asked, peering up at her.
“Sure. It’s still early. After you wash, you can play in the tub until your skin turns all wrinkly.” She tickled his ribs, reveling in the sound of his giggles. “And then it’s bedtime.”
“OK.” He ran to his toy box for his favorite toys for the tub.
Was she making another colossal mistake by agreeing to join Wyatt at The Bulldog on Monday night? Probably, but maybe if she saw how sweet he and Haley were together, she could quash her annoying obsession with him and be happy for the couple. “Like that’ll happen.”
“What, Mommy?”
“Nothing, sweetie. Just thinking out loud.” She followed her son into the bathroom to get his bath ready. After she put Brady to bed, she’d take a nice hot bath herself, and then do some studying in bed. Hopefully the hot water would calm her overstimulated nerves, and the studying would put her to sleep. Not likely.
Kayla let Brady knock on Mariah’s door, and it swung open on the second rap. She smiled at Rosie. “Hey, look who I brought to play with you tonight.” Mariah stood behind her daughter, and Kayla handed her the bag with Brady’s jammies and toothbrush.
Rosie grabbed Brady’s hand. “Come on. I got my toys in my room.” She glanced at her mother. “Can we go play?”
“Sure. Go.” Mariah waved them away, and the two of them ran off together down the hall.
“Am I doing the right thing here, Mariah? Is it weird that someone else’s fiancé is picking me up without her? Shouldn’t I be meeting them there?”
“You’re overthinking this. Does it make much sense to take two cars when you’re both starting out and returning to the same place? That would be fuelish.”
“Fuelish? I guess you’re right.” She bit her lip. “But—”
“There you are.” Wyatt crossed the hall. “Hi, Mariah. Thanks for watching Brady tonight.”
“I’m always happy to have Brady hang out with us,” she said. “He keeps Rosie busy, and I get to enjoy a few hours to myself. I might even read or watch an entire TV show without interruption.”
“You ready to go?” Wyatt glanced at Kayla, his face going crimson.
“I just need to grab my purse.” She pulled her keys from her back pocket. “We won’t be too late, Mariah.”
“Don’t feel like you have to hurry home,” she replied, waving them away like she had with the kids. “I’ll have Brady in his jammies and his teeth brushed. He can nap on my couch until you pick him up.”
“Thanks. Bye.” Kayla crossed the hall to her door, her midriff a riot of flutters. She hadn’t felt this stirred up since her first junior high school dance. “I’ll be right back,” she muttered as she unlocked her deadbolt and shot through the door. She hurried to her bathroom to check her makeup and brush her hair one last time. Grabbing her purse from the dining room table, she joined Wyatt in the hall and locked her door. “OK. Let’s go.”
He gestured toward the back stairs. “I hope you like The Bulldog. They have great food. It’s one of our favorite places to hang out. Do you play pool?”
“No.” She gripped the railing on her way down the stairs. “Why? Are we going to play pool there?”
“Uh . . . no. The Bulldog doesn’t have tables.”
She huffed out a nervous laugh and glanced at him. “Then why’d you ask?”
“Just . . . wondering.” His face turned a darker red.
Why did this feel like a first date? Five people getting together for bar food and beer was no big deal. She wrestled her nerves into submission. “So, you’re an electrician in your
family’s business. Are your brother and sister part of the company too?”
“Yep. Sam is a carpenter, and Josey is a licensed plumber, although she can do just about anything, including fixing cars.” He opened the back door for her. “Sam is pretty versatile too, but other than helping with heavy lifting, I stick with electrical stuff.” They crossed the lot to his truck, and he opened the passenger side door for her before striding around to the driver’s side.
“Why do they do all kinds of stuff and you don’t?” she asked once he was settled behind the wheel.
“Because we do a lot of handyman jobs besides construction.” He started the engine and twisted around to watch over his shoulder as he backed out of his spot.
Kayla frowned and fastened her seat belt. “I don’t get it. You stick with electrical stuff because of handyman jobs?”
“That’s it exactly.” He grinned. “Lots of people call a handyman rather than a plumber, because they think it’s less expensive. Clogged toilets and drains make me gag. Have you ever seen what comes out of bathroom drains?” He shuddered. “I really don’t understand why my sister chose that profession at all.”
She laughed. “Well, now I get why you stick with electricity.”
“I do have other skills, but I’m not interested in carpentry. I don’t like slivers or sore thumbs.”
“Did you always want to be an electrician?”
“No.” He checked the street for oncoming traffic and turned onto the main road toward downtown. “I wanted to be Superman when I grew up, but I couldn’t find a school offering superhero classes.”
“At least you have the cape,” she teased.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t fit me anymore.” He flashed her a crooked smile. “So, naturally, I became an electrician.”
She canted her head, pretending to think about what he’d said. “I can see how one led to the other.”
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