Mothers In A Million. Michelle Douglas
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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 snorted in disgust. “I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m angry with your ex.”
Was that any better? “Right.”
“Look, picking a bad spouse isn’t a crime. If it was, they’d toss me in jail and throw away the key.”
She almost laughed. She’d forgotten he had his own tale of woe.
“I’m serious. Betsy cheated on me, lied to me, tried to set my employees against me. All while she and her lawyers were negotiating for a piece of my company in a divorce settlement. She wanted half.”
Wide-eyed, Missy glanced over at him. “She cheated on you and tried to get half your company?” Jeff emptying their tiny savings account was small potatoes compared to taking half a company.
“Yes. She only ended up with a third.” Wyatt sighed. “Feel better?”
She smiled sheepishly. “Sort of.”
“So there’s nobody in this car who’s better than anybody else. We both picked lousy spouses.”
She relaxed a little. He really didn’t feel sorry for her. They were kind of kindred spirits. Being left with triplets might seem totally different than having an ex take a third of your company, but the principle was the same. Both had been dumped and robbed. For the first time in four years she was with somebody who truly “got it.” He wasn’t helping her because he thought she was weak. He wasn’t helping her because he was still the sort of sappy kid she’d known in high school. He was helping her because he saw the injustice of her situation.
That pleased her enough that she could accept his assistance. But truth be told, she also knew she needed the help.
When they arrived at the country club, she pulled into a parking space near the service door to facilitate entry. She opened the back of her SUV and he gasped.
“Wow.”
Pride shimmied through her. Though the cake was simple—white fondant with pink dots circling the top of each layer, and pink-and-lavender