he wanted a fling? “But—”
“But what? We’re single, adults and attracted to each other. There’s no reason we can’t enjoy each other while I’m here.”
She blinked again. the emotions careening through her didn’t match up with the word fling. “Let me get this straight. You want to sleep with me, no strings attached, no thought of a relationship. No possibility of falling in love?”
His face scrunched. “You’re making it sound tawdry.”
She’d never once considered sex just for the sake of sex. Even though it solved the problem of telling him about her dad, her stomach took a little leap. He didn’t want to love her. He wasn’t even considering it.
He caught her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “You said that your ex leaving you with three kids and no money made you independent?”
She nodded.
“Well, think about this. Think about working for something from the time you’re sixteen, and one mistake—picking the wrong person to trust—causes you to lose one-third of it. But it’s about more than the money. My ex cheated on me. Lied to me. Tried to undermine me with people in the industry, saying that when she got half the company she could take over with a little bit of help, positioning herself to take everything I’d worked for. She didn’t just want money. She wanted to boot me from my own company. She wanted to ruin me.”
“Oh.” Hearing the hurt in his voice, understanding rose in Missy, but it didn’t salve the emptiness, the letdown she felt from realizing he didn’t even want to consider loving her. It seemed in her life there’d been nobody who’d ever really loved her. At home, her dad wasn’t ever sober enough to have a real emotion. Her mom stayed too busy keeping up appearances that if she kissed her or hugged her, Missy always knew it was for show, not for real. Her sister locked herself away. Like Wyatt, she’d studied. The first chance she’d gotten, she’d left.
In going along, living the lie, Missy had been alone.
Alone.
Confused.
Not wanted.
He sighed. “I just don’t believe relationships last, and I don’t want either one of us to get hurt.”
“Sure.” She understood. She really did. No one wanted to be taken for granted, and hurt as he’d been by his ex. It could be years before he would trust again.
Which was why she stepped back. “I get it.”
He sighed with relief. “Good.”
But when he reached for her, she moved farther away. Put a distance between them that was as much emotional as physical.
“I can’t have a fling.” At his puzzled look, she added, “The things you didn’t factor into your fling are my kids.”
He frowned. “Your kids?”
“I can’t leave them to be with you and you can’t…well, sleep over.”
His frown deepened. “I can’t?”
“No. They’re kids. Sweet. Impressionable. I don’t want to confuse them.”
“So you won’t have a fling because of your kids?”
“I don’t want them confused.” Tears welled behind her eyes and she struggled to contain them. She hadn’t ever quite realized how alone she was until a real relationship, a real connection, seemed to be at her fingertips, only to disappear in a puff. “I don’t want them involved. And until they’re old enough, I’m…well, I’m just not going to…” She reddened to the roots of her hair. “You know.”
“Sleep with anybody.” He shook his head. “You’re not going to sleep with anybody until your kids are teenagers.”
“I hadn’t really thought it through, but I guess that’s what I’m saying.” Determined to be mature about this, she held out her hand to shake his. “No hard feelings?”
He took it. Squeezed once. “Lots of regret, but no hard feelings.”
She nodded, but when he released her hand, disappointment rattled through her.
She liked him. But he didn’t want to like her.
SUNDAY MORNING, Wyatt wanted nothing more than to stay in bed. He looked at the clock, saw it was only seven, and pulled the covers over his head. Then a car door slammed and he realized he’d woken because he’d heard a vehicle pull into the drive. He bounced out of bed, confused about who’d be coming to his Gram’s house at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning. But when he walked to the kitchen window and peered out, he realized the caller had parked in Missy’s driveway.
Who would visit Missy at seven o’clock on a Sunday?
With a sigh he told himself not to care about her. Ever. For Pete’s sake. She’d rebuffed him twice, and the night before out-and-out told him she didn’t want anything to do with him. She even made him shake on it.
Did he have no pride?
He ambled to the counter, put on a pot of coffee and opened the back door to let the stale night air out and the cool morning air in.
Leaning against the counter, he waited for his jolt of caffeine. When the coffeemaker gurgled its final release, he poured himself a cup.
Turning to walk to the table, he almost tripped over Owen.
Still wearing his cowboy pajamas, the little boy grinned. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He stooped down to Owen’s height. “What are you doing here?”
“There’s a man talking to my mom.”
Even as Owen spoke, dark-haired Lainie opened Wyatt’s screen door and stepped inside. Dressed in a pink nightgown, she said, “Hi,” as if it were an everyday occurrence for her to walk into his house in sleepwear.
“Hi.”
Before he could say anything else, Claire walked in. Also in a pink nightgown, she smiled sheepishly.
Still crouched in front of Owen, Wyatt caught the little boy’s gaze. “So your mom’s talking to somebody and I’m guessing she didn’t see you leave.”
“She told us to go to our woom.”
At Wyatt’s left shoulder, Lainie caught his chin and turned him to face her. “He means room.”
“Your mom sent you to your room?”
Owen nodded. “While she talks to the man.”
Wyatt’s blood boiled. For a woman who didn’t want to get involved with him, she was engrossed enough in today’s male guest that
