“Go on, then. I’ll be back to my weeding in a minute or two.” Gram swiped streaks through the condensation on her glass with her thumbs, her eyes still dreamy, as if she might still be reminiscing.
He left the kitchen and hurried to the workshop out back. He walked inside and something about the place settled him. The large room with its cement floor smelled of wood, stain and the tang of steel power tools with a touch of rust. Gramps collected old tools like some people collected old coins. The welcome, familiar scent was one Wyatt associated with home, family and especially with his grandfather.
He opened the windows to let in some fresh air. Then he walked to the corner where a bunch of mismatched pieces of casing and baseboard had been stacked inside an old barrel. Gramps had picked up the wooden barrel at a flea market long before Wyatt was born.
As he looked through the remnants, he thought about what his grandmother had said. Kayla had been the one who’d been hurt, not him. He’d been avoiding her, but what she needed was for him to man up and be her friend. He’d been thinking only of himself. Hadn’t he told her whatever she needed, he’d be there for her? Guilt wrenched at him. At the first test of friendship, he’d failed her. How could he expect more with her if he couldn’t even be a friend first?
“That’s changing as of today,” he muttered to himself. He’d be the best damned friend she’d ever had. He’d become indispensible to her, and eventually she’d come around. After all, she had admitted he was her kryptonite. Build on your strengths, that’s what Gramps would say.
His blood rushed, remembering how perfectly she fit in his arms, her lush curves pressed against him and the way she’d kissed him back. Having her in his arms had been the closest he’d come to heaven on earth, and he wanted more, much more. He groaned. Waiting just might kill him.
Forcing his mind off Kayla’s curves, he focused on the remnants and chose a piece of trim that had been painted white with grayish streaks. He lifted the piece out of the barrel and laid it on one of the workbenches. Then he searched the shelves for Grandpa Joe’s miter box and a handsaw. It didn’t make any sense to fire up the big electric table saw for such a small project.
It took him only about forty minutes to measure, cut, glue and staple the frame together. The portrait would look great against the white and gray, with maybe red or blue matting. Satisfied with his work, Wyatt cleaned up, closed the windows, grabbed the frame and left the shop. Grandma Maggie was back to her weeding. “What do you think, Gram?” He held up the frame.
“Nice. What’s it for?” She sat back on her heels.
“I did a portrait of Kayla and her son. I thought I’d frame it before I give it to her.”
“She’ll like that. I take it you’ve decided not to walk away?”
“I guess. For now at any rate.” His stomach lurched at the possibility of another rejection coming at him a few months down the road.
“It’ll work out, Wyatt. You’ll see.”
“Thanks, Gram. Do you mind if I make myself a sandwich before I head out? I skipped breakfast.”
“Help yourself.” She went back to pulling the weeds that had dared to infiltrate her flowers. “You’re a good man, Wyatt. Any young woman would be lucky to have you in her life. Don’t forget.”
“You’re not biased at all,” he teased. “Later, Gram. I’ll keep you posted.”
Wyatt set the frame on the kitchen counter before scrounging through his grandparents’ fridge for stuff to make his lunch. He put together two fat ham and swiss-cheese sandwiches, wrapping one in a couple of paper towels before cleaning up. The other he tore into, pausing long enough to tuck the frame under his arm on the way out.
If a friend is what Kayla needed, then a friend he would be. She’d come around eventually. After all, he was a Haney, and Haney men could fix anything—maybe even broken hearts.
“You can go, Jon. I’ll clean up.” Wyatt finished fastening the new outlet cover in Kayla’s kitchen. It had taken until Wednesday to get to her apartment, and they’d only gotten to the kitchen and dining area.
“Thanks, man. My youngest has T-ball tonight, and I really don’t want to miss it. She’s a hoot to watch.” Jon grinned, his tone filled with pride. “That one is determined to do everything her older brothers do, only better.”
“Like my sister.”
“Yeah, my little girl is a lot like Josey, and that’s a good thing.” Jon put his tools in his toolbox and set it in the corner. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you.” Wyatt had arranged things, so he’d be in Kayla’s apartment when she got home, which would be any minute now. He was a mess of nerves. Should he go down to his place, get the portrait and bring it up, or wait? How would she react?
He rewound the small wooden spool of black insulated wire and taped the loose end to the wood. Then he did the same to the white, neutral wire. Gathering his tools, he caught the sound of Brady’s voice in the hall. His breath hitched, and his heart knocked around in his chest. The apartment door opened. “Hello,” he called from the dining room.
“You’re here.” Kayla came around the corner, her face flushed.
Wyatt placed the spools on end next to his tools, and then he straightened. Heat surged to his face at the sight of her. Damn, he thought he was over that. “Yeah . . . I hope it’s OK. Just cleaning up. Once I’m done here, I’ll run down to the basement, flip the new circuit breaker, and you’ll be up and running again.” He forced himself to inhale. “In the kitchen and dining area anyway. We’ll be back to do the rest tomorrow, and Sam will be back to put in new sheetrock where we had to tear out the walls.”
“Wyatt,” Brady cried, hopping in place. “Will you read to me tonight? Mommy, can Wyatt stay for supper?”
“Honestly, I don’t even know what we’re having for supper yet, but you’re welcome to stay.” Her gaze touched his for second before flitting away.
“I was going to get Chinese takeout. If you want, you two can join me at my place for dinner tonight.”
“Yeah,” Brady beamed.
“Sure. I just need to change.”
“What should I order for you two?”
“Brady likes chicken fried rice, and I’ll have sweet-and-sour pork.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a twenty and handed it to him.
He took her money. This wasn’t a date, just friends hanging out. “I’ll get an order of egg rolls to share too.”
“Sounds great.”
“Come downstairs at . . .” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “How about six?” That would give him time to put in the order, shower and then pick it up.
Kayla smiled, her pretty blue eyes connecting with his again. “All right. See you at six.”
“All right. See you at six.” Had he just repeated what she’d said verbatim? Why, yes he had. His pulse kicked into high gear, and color once again rushed to his face. He made a beeline for the door. “Later.”
Wyatt took the stairs at a good clip, heading for the basement to flip the circuit breaker for her. This friend business would take some getting used to. He and Kayla were back at square one, with him sweating, blushing and his heart thumping like crazy. Not where he wanted to be with her at all. Once inside the safety of his apartment, he headed to his kitchen for his takeout menus and placed the order. Then he gathered clean clothes and took his shower.
By five minutes to six, Wyatt had the large brown bag containing their meal on the table. He left the cartons in the bag to keep everything warm and gathered plates and silverware from the kitchen. Kayla and Brady knocked on his door. Thump-thump went his heart, and his legs turned to rubber. He wiped his palms on the front of his cargo shorts and strode to the door. “Who’s there?” he called through the heavy oak.
“It’s me,” Brady called back.
“Me who?” Wyatt grinned. The sound of childish giggles melted his heart, and he swung the door open wide. “Oh, it’s you.” He held out his fist.
“That’s what I s
aid,” Brady chortled, bumping his fist back. “It’s me.”
“And me,” Kayla said, smiling. “Mmm. I smell Chinese food.” She put her hands on Brady’s shoulders and guided him inside.
The warmth in her eyes and her high-wattage smile didn’t make it any easier for him to stand on his already-shaky legs. “Let’s eat, and then we can read another Wyatt R. Haney comic book.”
Brady slipped his hand into Wyatt’s. “I drawed a comic book at my school yesterday, and today we got to go to the Como Park Zoo.”
“Wow. Sounds like you have a lot of fun at your school.” He held on to Brady’s hand, and when they got to the dining room, he swung him up onto a chair. “Can I go to your school too?”
“No.” Brady giggled again. “You’re too old.”
“Huh.” Wyatt took the cartons out of the bag and set them on the table. “Maybe the three of us could go to the amusement park at the Mall of America someday.” He glanced at Kayla. “What do you think? Might be fun.”
“Could we, Mommy?” Brady got up on his knees, his expression full of hope.
“That would be fun. We’ve never been to the Mall of America.”
“Really?” Wyatt’s brow rose. “You live in the Twin Cities, and you’ve never been to the Mall of America? Besides the amusement park in the center, there’s a Lego store, a movie theater and the Sea Life Minnesota Aquarium too.”
She laughed. “OK. I’m sold. We can go check it out.”
A lot of the tension he’d been holding slipped away. This could work out if being her friend meant they spent more time together. He folded up the large paper bag their food had come in, set it aside and took a seat. “Do you two want to share everything?”
“Depends. What did you order?” Kayla spooned some of the fried rice onto her son’s plate.
“I got the house special lo mein.”
“What’s that?” Brady asked around a mouthful.
“Noodles and lots of stuff mixed in, like shrimp, chicken and pork.”
“I like noodles.”
“I know you do, Superkid.” Wyatt dumped some of his lo mein onto his plate, then added a small amount to Brady’s. Kayla did the same with her order.
“How’s the rewiring coming along?” Kayla paused to ask.
“The third floor is finished, and circuit boxes for each apartment have been installed. Now that we’re working on the second floor, we’re doing your apartment first, so Sam can get in and put the new ceiling up. He’s on another job, so it might take a few days before he gets back.”
“That’s OK. I’ve grown used to not having a ceiling.”
“How’s school?”
“Good. The AC was out, which was miserable, but now it’s fixed.”
This was conversation lite, nothing too personal, but Kayla and Brady were here, and that was all that mattered. By the time they finished, cleared the table and put away the leftovers, Brady’s eyes were at half-mast. “Looks like you got some sun today, bro.” Wyatt tousled the kid’s thick blond mop. “And I’ll bet you did a lot of walking. Are you sure you’re up to a comic book reading tonight?”
Brady nodded through a yawn. “Yes, please and thank you.”
Wyatt chuckled. “Come on then.” He picked the kid up and held him tucked against his side like a football. Wyatt bounced the kid all the way to the couch, gratified by the little boy giggles and Kayla’s radiant smile. This friend thing was a chancy business. Every one of her smiles, and every time his eyes met hers, he was in a little deeper. Heartbreak, here I come. And willingly too if there was even a ghost of a chance she’d come around.
He tossed his human football on the couch, and Brady shrieked with glee. “I’ll be right back with the next chapter in Elec Tric’s adventures.” He pointed a stern finger at Brady. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Brady pushed himself up to sitting. “I won’t.”
He hurried to his studio and grabbed the third comic book and the framed portrait. His breath catching, he returned to the living room. “Do you remember when I told you I made something for you and Brady?” he asked, taking his place on the couch next to Brady. “Well, here it is. I hope you two like it.” He set the framed portrait on Kayla’s lap and watched her face. Her mouth formed a sweet little O, and she traced the figures with her finger.
“That’s me!” Brady leaned against his mom. “And that’s you, Mommy.”
Kayla blinked rapidly, and swallowed. “It’s . . .” Her gaze lifted to his.
Her eyes were bright with tears, and his chest tightened. “You don’t like it?”
“Oh my God. I love it. It’s amazing.” Her attention returned to the picture. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before. Thank you, Wyatt.”
His chest swelled with pride. “What about you, Superkid? Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” Brady sighed. “Mommy, can I bring it to show my friends at school?”
“Let me think about that, kiddo.” She swiped at her cheeks.
She wasn’t looking at him, but her expression had gone all soft as she studied the picture. He’d made her happy. Score one for the friend who lives downstairs. “Ready for the story?” Brady nodded and leaned against his side.
“A Hero Lives to Fight Another Day,” he read the title and turned to the first panel. By the time he got to the third page, his little friend was sound asleep and drooling on Wyatt’s arm. “And . . . he’s out.” He grinned at Kayla.
“Have you been avoiding me?” she asked, her tone low.
He was about to tell her no, but she deserved honesty. “I needed time to . . . adjust. So, yes, I was avoiding you.”
“I’m sorry, Wyatt.” She searched his face. “Are we OK?”
“Absolutely.” Not.
“So, this is how you see me,” she whispered, reaching for the portrait where it rested on his coffee table.
Uh-oh. “What do you mean?”
“You made me so pretty in this portrait.” Her eyes met his again.
The vulnerability and doubt he glimpsed in their blue depths nearly did him in. “You are that pretty, Kayla. In fact, you’re beautiful, gorgeous, magnificent . . .” She let out a throaty laugh that sent a current of desire straight through him.
“If you say so.”
“You don’t believe me?” He frowned. “How could you not know you’re a certified, bona-fide knockout?”
Kayla shook her head and rose from her place. “I’d better get this kid to bed. Thanks for inviting us to join you for dinner tonight, and for the amazing picture. You’re a very talented man, Wyatt Haney.”
“Do you want me to carry Brady upstairs?” Wyatt rose carefully, letting Brady slip down to the couch slowly enough that he didn’t wake.
“No, I have to wake him. He needs to brush his teeth and use the bathroom before I put him to bed.”
“I’ll get your leftovers and put them in a bag for you.”
“Thanks.” She shook her son’s shoulder. “Brady, wake up. We need to go home.”
Plastic bag with her cartons of leftovers in hand, Wyatt returned to the living room to find Brady practically asleep on his feet. “Leftovers, the portrait and a sleepy kid—that’s a lot to handle.”
“I’ve handled worse.” Her expression tightened.
Somehow, he sensed she wasn’t referring to things needing to be carried upstairs. “I’m taking Brady. You get the portrait and the leftovers.” He handed her the bag and lifted Brady into his arms. “No arguing.”
Brady sighed and slid his arms around Wyatt’s neck. He smelled like sunshine, fresh air and little boy. These two had already made a place for themselves in Wyatt’s heart. “Ready?”
Kayla expression one of resignation, she picked up the portrait and preceded him to the door. He followed, wondering why she resisted his help. He stood back while she unlocked her door, and then he set Brady on his feet just over the threshold. “Hey, little man. Better go take care of business before you hit the sack.” Straightening, he f
aced Kayla. “See you tomorrow.”
“No more avoiding?” Her brow rose in question.
“No more avoiding,” he agreed.
“Good.” She nodded, moving to close the door. “I’m glad.”
“Me too.” He longed to draw her close, erase the shadow of hurt lurking in her eyes and kiss her breathless. He stepped away. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she said, easing the door closed.
Wyatt turned around and walked slowly back downstairs. Gram was right. Kayla had been hurt, and now that he’d put his own ego aside, the truth smacked him between the eyes. His gorgeous, intelligent, sexy neighbor feared having her heart broken again. She didn’t see herself the way he saw her, didn’t even realize how amazing she was.
He shook his head and blew out a long breath. The idiot she’d married had really done a number on her, and it only made Wyatt more determined than ever to shower her with . . . friendship.
Chapter Nine
Ever since Wyatt had given her the amazing portrait, Kayla had agonized over how she might repay his kindness. It had taken her two days, but she now had a plan.
“Hey, Brady,” she said, sweeping into the living room with her laptop in hand. “It’s time for our chat with Gammy and Pops.” She set up her laptop on the coffee table and turned off the window air. Her apartment rewiring completed, she no longer had to worry about running her AC, but it was noisy.
“OK.” Leaving his toys where they were, he joined her on the couch.
Every week, she and Brady shared a FaceTime call with her parents. She opened her computer and entered their number. Her parents appeared on her screen. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” She waved.
“Gammy, Pops, d’you know what?” Brady slid off the couch, placed his hands on the coffee table and leaned in close to the camera lens above the computer screen.
“No, what?” They asked in unison, well versed in Brady speak.
“I got to go to Como Zoo with my school, and there are gorillas there, and tigers.” He practically vibrated with excitement.
“Wow, that’s great,” her mom said, grinning. “Looks like you’ve grown since last week, Brady.”
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