LITMIR.BIZ

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the tree and played house. And he’d spent most of his life wanting a kiss from Missy Johnson and never getting one.

      So, technically, this wasn’t new. This was normal.

      Maybe he was just being a pain in the butt by being upset about it?

      And maybe that was part of what he needed to learn before he returned home? That pushing for things he wanted sometimes made him a jerk.

      Sheesh. He didn’t like the sound of that. But he had to admit that up until he’d lost Betsy, he’d gotten everything he wanted. His talent got him money. His money got him the company that made him the boss. Until Betsy cheated on him, then left him, then sued him, his life had been perfect. Maybe this time with Missy was life balancing the scales as it taught him to gracefully accept failure.

      He didn’t stay for lunch, though she invited him to. Instead, he ate a dried-up cheese sandwich made from cheese in Gram’s freezer and bread he’d gotten at the 7-Eleven the day he’d bought the beer and champagne. When he was finished, he returned to his work of taking everything out of his grandmother’s closet, piling things on the bed. When that was full he shifted to stacking them on the floor beside the bed. With the closet empty, he stared at the stack in awe. How did a person get that much stuff in one closet?

      One by one, he began going through the shoe boxes, which contained everything from old bath salts to old receipts. Around two o’clock, he heard the squeals of the kids’ laughter and decided he’d had enough of being inside. Ten minutes later, he and Owen were a Wiffle ball team against Lainie and Claire.

      Around four, Missy came outside with hot dogs to grill for supper. He started the charcoal for her, but didn’t stay. If he wanted to get back his inner nice guy, to accept that she had a right to rebuff him, he would need some space to get accustomed to it.

      Because that’s what a reasonable guy did. He accepted his limits.

      Once inside his gram’s house, tired and sweaty, he headed for the bathroom to shower. Under the spray, he thought about how much fun Missy’s kids were, then about how much work they were. Then he frowned, thinking about their dad.

      What kind of man left a woman with three kids?

      What kind of man didn’t give a damn if his kids were fed?

      What kind of man expected the woman he’d gotten pregnant to sacrifice everything because she had to be the sole support of his kids?

      A real louse. Missy had married a real louse.

      Was it any wonder she’d warned Wyatt off the night before? She had three kids. Three energetic, hungry, busy kids to raise alone because some dingbat couldn’t handle having triplets.

      If she was smart, she’d never again trust a man.

      A funny feeling slithered through Wyatt.

      They were actually very much alike. She’d never trust a man because one had left her with triplets, and he’d never trust a woman because Betsy’s betrayal had hurt a lot more than he liked to admit.

      Even in his own head he hadn’t considered wooing Missy to marry her. He wanted a kiss. But not love. In some ways he was no better than her ex.

      He needed to stay away from her, too.

      He walked over to her yard the next morning and played with Owen in the sandbox. He and Missy didn’t have much contact, but that was fine. Every day that he spent with her kids and saw the amount of work required to raise them alone, he got more and more angry with her ex and more and more determined to stay away from her, to let her get on with her life. She ran herself ragged working on the wedding cake every morning and housecleaning and caring for the kids in the afternoon.

      So when she invited him to supper every day, he refused. Though he was sick of the canned soup he found in Gram’s pantry, and dry toasted-cheese sandwiches, he didn’t want to make any more work for Missy. He also respected her boundaries. He wouldn’t push to get involved with her, no matter that he could see in her eyes that she was attracted to him. He would be a gentleman.

      Even if it killed him.

      But on Saturday afternoon, he watched her carry the tiers of a wedding cake into her rattletrap SUV. Wearing a simple blue sleeveless dress that stopped midthigh, and high, high white sandals, with her hair curled into some sort of twist thing on the back of her head, she looked both professional and sexy.

      Primal male need slid along his nerve endings and he told himself to get away from the window. But as she and the babysitter lugged the last section of the cake, the huge bottom layer, into the SUV, their conversation drifted to him through the open bedroom window.

      “So what do you do once you get there?”

      “Ask the caterer to lend me a waiter so I can carry all this into the reception area. Then I have to put it together and cut it and serve it.”

      By herself. She didn’t have to say the words. They were implied. And if the caterer couldn’t spare a waiter to help her carry the cake into the reception venue, she’d carry that alone, too.

      Wyatt got so angry with her ex that his head nearly exploded. Though he was dressed to play with Owen, he pivoted from the window, slapped on a clean pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt and marched to her driveway.

      As she opened the door to get into the driver’s side of her SUV, he opened the door on the passenger’s side.

      “What are you doing?”

      He slammed the door and reached for his seat belt. “Helping you.”

      She laughed lightly. “I’m fine.”

      “Right. You’re fine. You’re run ragged by three kids and a new business. Now you have to drive the cake to the wedding, set it up, and wait for the time when you can cut it and serve it.” He flicked a glance at her. “All in an SUV that looks like it might not survive a trip to Frederick.”

       “It—”

      He stopped her with a look. “I’m coming with you.”

      “Wyatt—”

      “Start the SUV and drive, because I’m not getting out and you don’t have another car to take.”

      Huffing out a sigh, she turned the key in the ignition. She waved out the open window. “Bye, kids! Mommy will be back soon. Be nice for Miss Nancy.”

      They all waved.

      She backed out of the driveway and headed for the interstate.

      Now that the moment of anger had passed, Wyatt shifted uncomfortably on his seat. Even though it had been for her own good, he’d been a bit high-handed. Exactly what he was trying to stop doing. “I’m not usually this bossy.”

      She laughed musically. “Right. You own a company. You have to be bossy.”

      “I suppose.” Brooding, he stared out the window. She wanted nothing to do with him, and he wasn’t really a good bet for getting involved with her. And they were about to spend hours together.

      She probably thought he’d volunteered to help in order to have another chance to make a pass at her.

      He flicked a glance at her. “I know you think I’m nuts for pushing my way into this, but I overheard what you told the babysitter. This is a lot of work.”

      “I knew that when I started the company. But I like it. And it’s the only way I have to earn enough money to support my kids.”

      Which took him back to the thing that made him so mad. “Your ex should be paying child support.”

      Irritation caused Missy’s chest to expand. She might have been able to accept his help because he was still the nice guy he used to be. But he hadn’t offered because he was a nice guy. He’d offered because he felt sorry for her, and she hated that.

      “Don’t feel sorry for me!”

      He

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