laughed, set her cup on the counter beside him and flattened her hands on his chest. “Poor baby.”
“I’d have paid good money to have you tell me that in high school.”
“I really did like you, you know. I thought of you as smart and honest.”
“I was.”
She peeked up at him. “You are now, too.”
The room got quiet. They stood as close as lovers, but something more hummed between them. Emotionally, she’d never been as connected to anyone as she was to him right now. She knew he didn’t want anything permanent, but in this minute, she didn’t, either. All she wanted was the quiet confirmation that, secrets shared, she would feel in the circle of his arms. She wanted to feel. To be real. To be whole.
Then she heard the kids out in the yard. Her kids. Her life. She didn’t need sex to tell her she was real, whole. She had a life. A good life. A life she’d made herself. She had a cake to bake this Saturday. Soon she’d have an assistant. She’d make cakes for grocery stores and restaurants. Her life had turned out better than she’d expected. She had good things, kids to live for, a business that made her happy.
She stepped away. A one-night stand would be fun. But building a good life was better. “I’ve gotta go.”
He studied her. “You’re okay?”
“I’m really okay.” She smiled. “I’m better than okay. Thanks for letting me talk to you.”
“That’s what friends do.”
Her smile grew. The tension in her chest eased. “Exactly. So if you have any deep, dark secrets, I’m here for you, friend.”
“You know my story. Stood up to bullies in high school, made lots of money, bad marriage, worse divorce—which I’m beginning to feel better about, thank you for asking.”
She laughed and headed for the door. “Well, if you ever need to talk, you know where I am.”
“Like I said, I have no secrets.”
She stopped, faced him again. He might not have secrets, but he did have hurts. Hurts he didn’t share.
Were it not for those hurts, she probably wouldn’t push open the door and walk away. She’d probably be in his arms right now. But she did push on the screen door, did leave his kitchen. They were both too smart to get involved when he couldn’t let go of his past.
SATURDAY MORNING Wyatt didn’t wait until Missy was ready to leave to get dressed to help deliver her cake. She hadn’t yet hired an assistant. She’d put an ad in the papers for the nearby cities, and a few responses had trickled in. But she wasn’t about to jump into anything. She wanted time for interviews and to check references.
He couldn’t argue with that. Which meant he’d need to help her with that week’s wedding.
So Friday he’d bought new clothes, telling himself he was tired of looking like a grunge rocker. Saturday morning, after his shower, he had black trousers, a white shirt and black-and-white print tie to put on before he ambled to her house. As had become his practice, he knocked twice and walked in.
Then stopped.
Wearing an orange-and-white-flowered strapless sundress, and with her hair done up in a fancy do that let curls fall along the back of her neck, she absolutely stopped his heart. In a bigger city, she would have been the “it” girl. In a little town like Newland, with nowhere to go but the grocery store or diner, and no reason to dress up, she sort of disappeared.
“You look amazing.” He couldn’t help it; the words tumbled out of their own volition.
She smiled sheepishly. “Would you believe this is an old work dress? Without the little white jacket, it’s perfect for a garden wedding.”
He looked her up and down once again, his heart pitterpattering. “I should get a job at that law firm if everyone looks that good.”
Because he’d flustered her, and was having a bit of trouble keeping his eyes off her, he searched for a change of subject. Glancing around her kitchen, he noticed the five layers of cake sitting in a row on her counter. Oddly shaped and with what looked to be steel beams trimming the edges, it wasn’t her most attractive creation.
“Is the bride a construction worker?”
“That’s the Eiffel Tower.” Missy laughed. “The groom proposed there.”
“Oh.” Wyatt took a closer look. “Interesting.”
“It is to them.”
Owen skipped into the room. “Hey, Wyatt.”
“Hey, kid.” He faced Missy, asking, “When’s Nancy get here?” But his heart sped up again just from looking at her. She had the kind of legs that were made to be shown off, and the dress handled that nicely. Nipped in at the waist, it also accented her taut middle. The dip of the bodice showed just enough cleavage to make his mouth water.
And he thought he looked nice. She put him and his white shirt and black trousers to shame—even with a tie.
“She should be here in about ten minutes. If you help me load up, we can get on the road as soon as she arrives.”
Making several trips, Missy and Wyatt put the layers of cake into the back of her new van. Together they carried the bottom layer, which had little people and trees painted on the side, mimicking street level around Paris’s most famous landmark.
“Cute.”
“It is cute. To the bride and groom.” She grinned. “And it’s banana walnut with almond filling.”
He groaned. “I’ll bet that’s delicious.”
Sixteen-year-old Nancy walked up the drive. Her dark hair had been pulled into a ponytail. In a pair of shorts and oversize T-shirt, she was obviously ready to play.
“Hi, Missy. Wyatt.”
The kids came barreling out. She scooped them into her arms. “What first? Cartoons or sandbox?”
Owen said, “Sandbox.”
The girls whined. But Nancy held her ground. “Owen has to get the chance to pick every once in a while.”
After a flurry of goodbyes and a minute for Missy to find her purse, she and Wyatt boarded the van. He glanced around with approval. “So much better than the SUV.”
“I know.”
She started the engine and pulled out of the driveway onto the street. In a few minutes they were on the highway.
She peeked over at him. “So…you look different. Very handsome.”
Her
