Wyatt had spent time with her every day since their trip to the mall, even if that time only added up to a few minutes. He’d rushed out the back door to help her carry in her groceries on Tuesday, and he did the same Saturday morning with her tubs of laundry. He kept popping up, coming around the corner from wherever he’d been working in their building. They’d chat about their days, a couple of times sharing a meal, and then he’d read a comic book to her and Brady. But never once did he touch her. Nope. The inadvertent and not-so-inadvertent touching had come to an abrupt end. Wyatt kept their conversations light and friendly while being very careful to keep his physical distance. When he read his comic books, he even made sure Brady sat between them. She wasn’t sure how much more of this new torture she could take. Sighing, she leaned back, propped herself up with her arms and gave in to the urge to stare at him.
He helped Brady cast his line into the lake. The red-and-white bobber landed with a plop and floated on the surface. Fishing pole in hand, Brady sat down at the end of the dock, while Wyatt cast out his line. He lowered himself to the spot next to her son, and Brady leaned companionably against him. Her heart fluttered. Who knew the way he was with her son would be such a turn on? He’s a friend. She reminded herself for the thousandth time, lusting after him all the same.
Desperate for a distraction, she scanned the area. Como Lake had a pavilion on the western side, with paddleboats to rent and a food booth in the lower level facing the lake. A walking path and a biking path encircled the perimeter of the lake, and the fishing dock had been constructed on the southern side. Brady had gotten a thrill out of seeing painted turtles, an egret and a blue heron as they’d walked from the parking lot to the dock. A nice breeze ruffled her hair. The long stretch of hot days had finally eased.
“Mommy! I got one.” Brady’s excitement rang through the air.
Kayla sprang from her place and hurried to the end of the dock. By the time she reached Brady, he was standing. “You sure did,” she said. The bobber disappeared under the water, and the line was taut.
“OK, Brady,” Wyatt said. “Reel it in like I showed you.” He kept his hand on the pole while Brady turned the reel. “That’s it. You’re doing great.” He grinned at her over his shoulder. “Take my pole, would you?”
“Sure.” She took it from him and moved out of the way so the lines wouldn’t get tangled. Brady continued to bring his catch closer, and Wyatt reached for the net with his free hand. Finally the fish splashed around at the end of the dock, and he scooped it up.
“Wow.” Wyatt pulled the fish out and held it up by the gills. “Look at that. His very first time fishing, and he catches a walleye big enough to keep. Way to go, Superkid.”
“What do I do now?” Brady asked, leaning close to get a better look at his fish.
Wyatt pulled a pair of needle-nosed piers out of his tackle box. “You can watch while I take him off the hook. See how I slide my hand down from its head? That’s to keep from getting poked by the fins.”
“OK.” Still holding onto his pole, her son grinned at her before focusing his attention upon the lesson at hand.
“The hook is deep, otherwise I’d pull it out by hand.” Wyatt gripped the hook with the pliers, worked it out and dropped the fish into the bucket he’d filled with lake water earlier. “There. Two more, and we’ll have caught tonight’s dinner. You want to bait your hook, Brady?”
Brady nodded. Wyatt took a fat earthworm from the plastic tub and handed it over. The tip of Brady’s tongue poked out as he concentrated on getting the worm onto the hook.
“Gross,” she said with a laugh.
Wyatt took the hook from Brady. “I’m going to finesse this for you, buddy.”
“Can I cast it by myself?” Brady asked, wiping his dirty hands on the front of his shorts.
“Of course.” Wyatt straightened, took up a place behind him, and positioned the fishing pole in Brady’s small hands. “Go for it.”
Brady brought his pole back and swung it forward. His bobber splashed in the lake right in front of the dock. Wyatt chuckled and helped him get set for another try. “Release earlier this time.”
“OK.” His face scrunched with concentration, he tried again. This time his bobber landed a good distance out into the water, and his expression turned triumphant.
“Way to go.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re really good with him, Wyatt. Thanks so much for . . . for . . .” Damn. Her throat closed up.
“You’re welcome . . . welcome. I don’t know about you, but I’m having fun. Fishing with my friends on a Sunday morning is hardly what I’d call a sacrifice, believe me.” His brown eyes filled with warmth and amusement.
Friends. That word again. It had taken him days of avoiding her to switch gears on her account. To expect him to switch back now would be unfair, not to mention unkind. Nobody liked to be yanked around, and she couldn’t do that to Wyatt. She cared too much about him . . . as a friend, and she didn’t want to mess that up. Gah.
He might’ve been right about how she’d romanticized the time she’d missed after high school. She’d never been a partier. Despite the way things had happened, she had grown up, probably faster than her high school friends. You can’t go back; you can only move forward.
Did that mean she couldn’t change her mind about dating, because the more time she spent with Wyatt Haney, hoodie-wearing, comic book writer extraordinaire, the more she wanted him. The more she wanted him, the more she regretted telling him she couldn’t date him. She ought to be one of his comic book characters, the one who always made the wrong decision, took the wrong turn and ended up being her own worst frenemy.
Kayla’s phone rang just as she was leaving school on Tuesday afternoon. She fished it out of her bag, checked caller ID and answered. “Aunt Becky, hi.”
“Hey, Kayla. How are you and Brady? How’s school?”
“About the same as when we talked a couple weeks ago.” She grinned. “We’re great.”
“Good. The reason I’m calling is because I spoke with my agent about your friend and his comic books. Turns out, Angie represents graphic novels and comic books too. Here’s the deal. I’m going to New York for a children’s book fair the Thursday after Labor Day. My agent will be there, and she’s willing to take a look at his work if I bring samples with me.”
“Oh my God. That’s great! Thank you so much for talking to her.”
“You’re welcome. Your dad mentioned you’d be home this weekend for the holiday. Can you bring Wyatt’s comic books with you? I’ll stop by the farm and pick them up if that works.”
“I can do that. Wyatt makes color copies of every one of them. I’ll ask him for all the Elec Tric series. Those are the stories he’s been reading to us, and they’re wonderful. Just wait till you see them, Aunt Becky.”
“I hope you’re right. I’ve never asked my agent to take a look at someone else’s work before.”
“I am. Don’t worry.” She practically floated through the parking lot to her car. “I’ll see you this weekend.”
“See you then, Kayla.”
She put her phone away and got into her car. Her mind racing, she drove to Brady’s day-care center. Finally she had the opportunity to do something nice for Wyatt. Of course, nothing might come of it, but she didn’t see how that was possible. His work was good, as good or better than any of the comic books she’d read, and she’d read plenty.
She parked in the day-care lot and rushed through signing Brady out and getting him into the car. “I can hardly wait to get home,” she said, fastening Brady’s seat belt. She couldn’t wait to tell Wyatt the news.
“Are we going to go see Gammy and Pops now?”
“No. This is only Tuesday. We aren’t leaving until Friday.” She had him recite the days of the week with her a few times as she buckled her seat belt and drove out of the lot.
What if Wyatt didn’t appreciate her intrusion into his comic book writing career? Had she stepped over a l
ine by interfering? He might not appreciate that she’d taken it upon herself to find him an agent. Frowning, she parked in her spot, her heart fluttering at the sight of his truck. “Come on, Brady. I want to find Wyatt.”
“Is he going to read to me tonight?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.” She hurried her son through the door and up the stairs to the first floor. No sign of him there, so she continued on to the second floor. Rock music and deep male voices came from her apartment, and her door was slightly ajar.
“Smells funny,” Brady said, his face scrunching up.
“Our apartment is being painted. It’s not as bad as the smoky smell, is it?”
“I guess.” Brady preceded her into the apartment.
Wyatt and his brother were in her dining room. Sam was on a ladder, painting the last corner of her ceiling.
“Wow, it looks really good in here.” She admired her new ceiling, light fixture and walls. “The fresh paint really makes everything look nice and new.”
“Hey,” Sam spared her and Brady a smile before turning back to painting. “We were just talking about theater night. Josey says The Lion King is coming back to Minneapolis in October, and she wants to know if we’re all still interested.”
“Oh.” The tickets had to be expensive, but seeing such a popular musical would be fun. If she did go, would it be too date-like? Not if she paid for her own ticket. She glanced at Wyatt, who was chatting with her son about his day. “Sure. I’m still in.”
“Good. Josey will buy the tickets and let us know how much we each owe her.”
“Great.” She set her purse down on the kitchen counter. “I have news, Wyatt.”
“News?” His brow rose.
“Yes. Remember I told you about my aunt who writes middle-grade novels? I talked to her about your comic books.”
“You did?”
“I did, because I wanted advice for you about finding an agent.” She sucked in a breath. “Turns out her agent represents comic books, and she’d like to take a look at your work.”
“Really?” Wyatt’s face lit up, and his smile did all kinds of wonderful things to every one of her major organs—her heart in particular.
She nodded, her own smile so big her cheeks hurt. “Aunt Becky wants me to bring the Elec Tric series to her when I go home this weekend. She’s meeting with her agent next week at a book fair, and she’ll give them to her then.”
“That was nice of you, Kayla,” Sam said, flashing her an appreciative look.
“I wanted to do something to thank Wyatt for everything he’s done for us. I can’t promise that this will lead to anything, but—”
“I can put together a portfolio right now.” Wyatt started for the door.
“Can we come too?” Brady asked.
“I would love to see where you work,” Kayla added.
“Of course you can come too,” Wyatt said, lifting Brady into the air and swinging him around in a wide arc. He set him down again by the door. “And we can pick out a new adventure to read tonight.” He glanced at her. “Unless you have plans, that is.”
“Nope. No plans.” She’d made Wyatt happy, and the thrill was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Giddy with pleasure, she followed him downstairs and through his apartment to the back bedroom. Shelves lined one entire wall of his studio, and they held all kinds of art supplies and paper. His drawing table had been positioned between the east- and south-facing windows. Wyatt opened a cabinet positioned by the door and reached for a stack of color copies of his comic books.
“Mommy, it’s you!” Brady cried, pointing to the work sitting on the drawing board.
She crossed the room to the drawing table, Wyatt converging with her at the same time. He made a move to reach for the illustrations sitting on the table, but she got there first, placing her hand on a corner. Wyatt groaned, and her gaze swung to him.
His face had turned a deep red. “It’s . . . uhh.”
Kayla studied the cover. A female figure, dressed in purple and black, graced the cover. The woman looked exactly how Wyatt had depicted her in the portrait he’d given her. Only in this version, she’d been portrayed as sinister, with the black eyes of a demon.
Diabolical Delilah, Elec Tric’s archenemy, stood in the background, her expression a definite gloating smirk. Kayla read the title, A Hero Has His Heart Broken. Her stomach dropped like a bag of sand, and all her happiness evaporated. Her chest tight, she flipped through a few pages. “The Mysterious Ms. M,” she muttered to herself, trying like hell to draw a breath. She was the Mysterious Ms. M, and she’d broken Wyatt’s heart. She didn’t know how to react and reeled from the impact.
Wyatt didn’t say a word. It was just a comic book. Writers and artists drew their inspiration from life. She knew that, but it didn’t help. This hurt. This hurt a lot. Silly. She was being silly, and the important thing was getting his work to her aunt’s agent. “Becky said to send everything you have on Elec Tric. Will you have time to make a color copy of this latest installment?”
She couldn’t look at Wyatt. He’d put the heartbreak of her rejection into his comic book, and there it would remain for all the world to see. Would a friend do that? Had he really switched gears? Even more important, it was obvious she’d hurt him way more than he’d let on.
He gathered a pile of his work and put it in a large white envelope, then he grabbed a marker and wrote his contact information across the front. “Um, sure,” he muttered.
“I can’t wait to read through all of these,” she managed to say. Especially the latest issue, the one where she’d chosen to cross over to the dark side.
“Can we read this one tonight?” Brady asked, peering up at Wyatt.
“It’s not finished.”
“You know what? Brady and I have a lot to do before we leave on Friday. We’re going to have to read another comic book some other time.”
“How about tomorrow night?” Wyatt asked.
“I’m going to the laundromat then, since we’ll be in Iowa on Saturday.
“If you want, I can watch Brady for you while you’re at the laundromat.”
“I’ve already asked Mariah to watch him, and Rosie would be disappointed if I canceled.”
“Right.” Wyatt handed her the envelope. “It’s just make-believe, Kayla. My comic books are fiction.”
Finally she managed to look at him and wished she hadn’t. His wonderful brown eyes were filled with hurt. “I know that,” she said. Forcing a smile, she took the envelope from him. “Just kind of took me by surprise is all.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Then we’re OK? You’re not upset?”
“No,” she lied. “I’m not upset. I just have a lot on my mind.” Like all this remorse over breaking your heart I need to process.
“If it would help, I can watch Brady for a while right now. He and I can read, and you’ll have some free time.”
“Can I stay, Mommy? Please?”
“Please,” Wyatt echoed.
“That would be great, and it’ll keep him out of your brother’s way while he’s cleaning up. I’ll come get him in an hour or so.”
“That would be fine, or I can bring him up to you.”
“No. I’ll come get him.” Her poor son looked completely confused. Kids were barometers when it came to tension, and she was feeling plenty. “Well, I am going to go start organizing for our trip. You be good for Wyatt.” Brady made a face at her, an expression that said he didn’t need the reminder. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “See you later, kiddo.” She forced another smile. “Thanks, Wyatt.”
She left them and made her way slowly back up to her apartment. Sam was removing trim tape from the baseboards. The drop cloths had already been folded into a neat pile, and the paint rollers and brushes had been placed in a bucket. The work on her apartment had been completed.
He glanced at her. “Where’s Brady?”
“I left him downstairs. Wyatt is going to read him a
comic book.” She bit her lip.
Sam stopped peeling trim tape and straightened. “What’s wrong?”
She blinked and averted her gaze. “I just met the Mysterious Ms. M.”
“Ah,” he chuckled. “So, what do you think? The resemblance is uncanny, isn’t it?”
“She . . .” Kayla cleared her throat. I hurt that wonderful, sensitive, amazing man, and now I hurt. “Ms. M broke Elec Tric’s heart, and Wyatt turned her into a demon.”
“Well, damn.”
“No.” She muttered to herself. “More like . . . well . . . BAM.”
Chapter Eleven
Panic swamped Wyatt. Why hadn’t he remembered he’d left Elec Tric’s latest installment on his drawing board? He could’ve put it away the second they’d entered the room. Kayla wouldn’t have seen her demonized image or the title on the cover, and everything would be fine. Despite the fact that she’d said they were good, her expression said otherwise.
Choosing a comic book from another series he’d written a while ago, he turned to Brady. “Ready to read, Superkid?”
Brady nodded and reached for Wyatt’s hand.
Wyatt led his audience of one to the living room, when what he really wanted to do was rush upstairs to talk it out with Kayla. But what could he say? Yeah, your rejection hurt, and writing is how I process shit like this. Somehow he had a feeling that wouldn’t help matters.
He and Brady settled on the couch, and Wyatt forced his mind away from what troubled him. “This is a story about a hero whose superpowers include turning into fierce animals when the need arises.”
“What kind of animals?” Brady asked, leaning against Wyatt’s side like he always did when they read together.
Wyatt’s chest tightened. He put his arm around his little buddy and gave him a quick hug. “Sometimes a wolf, other times a huge bear with paws the size of truck tires. And when he shifts, he’s super, super strong.”
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