into a clean T-shirt and his jeans from the day before, he made a pot of coffee, filled a cup and walked out to the back porch for some fresh air.
From his vantage point, he could see above the hedge. Missy stood in her backyard, hanging clothes on a line strung between two poles beside a swing set. The night before he’d decided he didn’t need to ask her why she’d stood him up. It was pointless. Stupid. What did he care about something that happened fifteen years ago?
Still, he remained on his porch, watching her. She didn’t notice him. Busy fluffing out little T-shirts and pinning them to the line, she hadn’t even heard him come outside.
In the silence of a small town at ten o’clock on a Tuesday morning in late April, when kids were in school and adults at work, he studied her pretty legs. The way her bottom rounded when she bent. The swing of her pony tail. It was hard to believe she was thirty-three, let alone the mother of triplets.
“Hey, Mithter.”
His gaze tumbled down to the sidewalk at the bottom of the five porch steps. There stood Owen.
“Hey, kid.”
“Wanna watch TV?”
“I don’t have TV. My mom canceled the cable.” He laughed and ambled down the steps. “Besides, don’t you think your mom will be worried if you’re gone?”
He nodded.
“So you should go home.”
He shook his head.
Wyatt chuckled and finished his coffee. The kid certainly knew his mind. He glanced at the hedge, but from ground level he couldn’t see Missy anymore. It seemed weird to yell for her to come get her son, but…
No buts about it. It was weird. And made it appear as if he was afraid to talk to her…or maybe becoming an introvert because one woman robbed him blind in a divorce settlement. He wasn’t afraid of Missy. And he might not ever marry again, but he wasn’t going to be an emotional cripple because of a divorce.
Reaching down, he took Owen’s hand. “Come on.” He walked him to the hedge, held it back so Owen could step through, then followed him into the next yard.
Little shirts and shorts billowed in the breeze, but the laundry basket and Missy were gone.
He could just leave the kid in the yard, explaining to Owen that he shouldn’t come to his house anymore. But the little boy blinked up at him, with long black lashes over sad, puppy-dog eyes.
Wyatt’s heart melted. “Okay. I’ll take you inside.”
Happy, Owen dropped his hand and raced ahead. Climbing up the stairs, he yelled, “Hey, Mom! That man is here again.”
Wyatt winced. Was it just him or did that make him sound like a stalker?
Missy opened the door. Owen scooted inside. Wyatt strolled over. He stopped at the bottom of the steps.
“Sorry about this.” He looked up at her. His gaze cruised from her long legs, past her jeans shorts, to her short pink T-shirt and full breasts to her smiling face. Attraction rumbled through him. Though he would have liked to take a few minutes to enjoy the pure, unadulterated swell of desire, he squelched it. Not only was she a mom, but he was still in the confusing postdivorce stage. He didn’t want a relationship, he wanted sex. He wasn’t someone who should be trifling with a nice woman.
“Owen just sort of appeared at the bottom of my steps so I figured I’d better bring him home.”
She frowned. “That’s weird. He’s never been a runner before.”
“A runner?”
“A kid who just trots off. Usually he clings to my legs. But we’ve never had a man next door either.” She smiled and nodded at his coffee cup. “Why don’t you come up and I’ll refill that.”
The offer was sweet and polite. Plus, she wasn’t looking at him as if he was intruding or crazy. Maybe it was smart to get back to having normal conversations with someone of the opposite sex. Even if it was just a friendly chat over a cup of coffee.
He walked up the steps. “Thanks. I could use a refill.”
She led him into her kitchen. Her two little girls sat at the table coloring. The crowded countertop held bowls and spoons and ingredients he didn’t recognize, as if Missy was cooking something. And Owen stood in the center of the kitchen, the lone male, looking totally out of place.
Missy motioned toward the table. “Have a seat.”
Wyatt pulled a chair away from the table. The two little girls peeked up from their coloring books and grinned, but went back to their work without saying anything. Missy walked over with the coffeepot and filled his cup.
“So what are you cooking?”
“Gum paste.”
That didn’t sound very appetizing. “Gum paste?”
Taking the coffeepot back to the counter, she said, “To make flowers to decorate a cake.”
“That’s right. You used to bake cakes for the diner.”
“That’s how I could afford my clothes.”
He sniffed. “Oh, come on. Your dad owns the diner. Everybody knew you guys were rolling in money.”
She turned away. Her voice chilled as she said, “My dad still made me work for what I wanted.” But when she faced him again, she was smiling.
Confused, but not about to get into something that might ruin their nice conversation, Wyatt motioned to the counter. “So who is this cake for?”
“It’s a wedding cake. Bride’s from Frederick. It’s a big fancy, splashy wedding, so the cake has to be exactly what she wants. Simple. Elegant.”
Suddenly the pieces fell into place. “And that’s your business?”
“Brides are willing to pay a lot to get the exact cake that suits their wedding. Which means a job a month supports us.” She glanced around. “Of course, I inherited this house and our expenses are small, so selling one cake a month is enough.”
“What do you do in the winter?”
“The winter?”
“When fewer people get married?”
“Oh. Well, that’s why I have to do more than one cake a month in wedding season. I have a cake the last two weeks of April, every weekend in May, June and July, and two in August, so I can put some money back for the months when I don’t have orders.”
“Makes sense.” He drank his coffee. “I guess I better get going.”
She smiled slightly. “You never said what brings you home.”
Not sure if she was trying to keep him here with mindless conversation or genuinely curious, he shrugged. “The family jewels.”
Missy
