A Father for Her Triplets. Susan Meier
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also noticed that he kept talking, pointing, as if explaining the process.
And Owen soaked it all in. The little man of the house.
Tears filled her eyes again. She hoped one month with a guy would be enough to hold Owen until…
Until what she wasn’t sure, but eventually she’d have to find a neighbor or teacher or maybe somebody from church who could spend a few hours a week with her son.
Because she wasn’t getting romantically involved with a man again until she had her business up and running. Until she could be financially independent. Until she could live with a man and know that even if he left her she could support her kids. And with her business just starting, that might not be for a long, long time.
While the chicken cooked, Wyatt ran over to his grandmother’s house for a shower. He liked that kid. Really liked him. Owen wasn’t a whiny, crying toddler. He was a cool little boy who just wanted somebody to play with.
And Wyatt had had fun. He’d even enjoyed Missy’s company. Not because she was flirty or attracted to him, but because she treated him like a friend. Just as he’d thought that morning, a platonic relationship with her could go a long way to helping him get back to normal after his divorce.
He put his head under the spray. Now all he had to do was keep his attraction to her in line. He almost laughed. In high school, he’d had four years of keeping his attraction to her under lock and key. While she’d been dating football stars, he’d been her long-suffering tutor.
This time he did laugh. He wasn’t a long-suffering kind of guy anymore. He was a guy who got what he wanted. He liked her. He wanted her. And he was now free. It might be a little difficult telling his grown-up, spoiled self he couldn’t have her… .
But maybe he needed some practice with not getting his own way? His divorce had shown him, and several lawyers, that he wasn’t fond of compromise. And he absolutely, positively didn’t like not getting his own way.
He really did need a lesson in compromise. In stepping back. In being honorable.
Doing good things for Missy, and not acting on his attraction, might be the lesson in self-discipline and control he needed.
Especially since he had no intention of getting married again. The financial loss he’d suffered in his divorce was a setback. He would recover from that with his brains and talent. The hurt? That was a different story. The pain of losing the woman he’d believed loved him had followed him around like a lost puppy for two years. He had no intention of setting himself up for that kind of pain again. Which meant no permanent relationship. Particularly no marriage. And if he got involved with Missy, he would hurt her, because she was the kind of girl who needed to be married.
So problem solved. He would not flirt. He would not take. He would be kind to her and her kids. And expect nothing, want nothing, in return.
And hopefully, he’d get his inner nice guy back.
When he returned to Missy’s backyard in a clean T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, she had the veggies on the table and was pulling the chicken off the grill.
“Grab a paper plate and help yourself.”
He glanced over. “The kids’ plates aren’t made yet.”
“I can do it.”
“I can help.”
With a little instruction from her about how much food to put on each, Wyatt helped prepare three plates of food for the kids. Owen sat beside him on the bench seat and Missy sat across from them with the girls.
It honest to God felt like high school all over again. Girls on one side. Boys on the other.
Little brown-eyed, blond Claire said, “We have a boys’ side and a girls’ side.”
Wyatt caught Missy’s gaze. “Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know. We’ve never had another boy around.”
“Really?”
She shrugged and pretended great interest in cutting Helaina’s chicken.
Interesting. She hadn’t had another man around in years? Maybe if Wyatt worked this right, their relationship didn’t have to be platonic—
He stopped that thought. Shut it down. Getting involved with someone like Missy would be nothing but complicated. While having a platonic relationship would do them both good.
So the conversation centered around kid topics while they ate. Wyatt helped clean up. Then he announced that it was time to go back to his grandmother’s house.
“To hunt for hidden treasure,” he told Owen.
Owen’s head almost snapped off as he faced Missy. “Can I go look for hidden tweasure, too?”
“No. It’s bath time then story time then bedtime.”
Owen groused. But Wyatt had an answer for this, if only because he understood negotiating. Give the opposing party something they wanted and everybody would be happy.
He caught Owen by the shoulders and stooped to his height. “You need to get some rest if we’re going to build the high-rise skyscraper tomorrow.”
Owen’s eyes lit up as he realized Wyatt intended to play with him again the next day. He threw his arms around Wyatt’s neck, hugged him and raced off.
An odd tingling exploded in Wyatt’s chest. It was the first time in his life he’d been close enough to a child to get a hug. And the sensation was amazing. It made him feel strong, protective…wanted. But in a way he’d never felt before. His decision to be around this little family strengthened. He could help Owen, and being around Owen and Missy and the girls could help him remember he didn’t always need to get his own way.
It was win-win.
Missy sighed with contentment. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
With the kids so far ahead of her, she motioned to her back door. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get in there before they flood the bathroom.”
Wyatt laughed. “Got it.”
He walked to the hedge, pulled it aside and headed for his gram’s house. He went into her bedroom again and started pulling shoe boxes filled with God knew what out of her overstuffed closet. But after only fifteen minutes, he glanced out the big bedroom window and saw Missy had come out to her back porch. She wearily sat on one of the two outdoor chairs.
Wyatt stopped pulling shoe boxes out of his gram’s closet.
She looked exhausted. Claire had said they’d never had another man around, which probably meant Missy didn’t date. But looking at her right now, he had to wonder if she ever even took a break.
He sucked in a breath. If he really wanted to help her, he couldn’t just do the things he knew would help him get back his rational, calm, predivorce self. He had to do the things she needed.
And right now it looked as if she needed a drink.
He dropped the box, pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and headed for the hedge. It rustled as he pushed it aside.
She didn’t notice him walking across the short expanse of yard to the back porch, so he called up the steps. “Hey, I saw you come out here. Mind if I join you?”
“No. Sure. That’d be great.”
He heard the hesitation in her voice, but decided that was just her exhaustion speaking.
He held up the two bottles of beer. “I didn’t come empty-handed.” He climbed the steps, offered her a beer and fell to the chair beside hers. “Your son could wear out a world-class athlete.”
She laughed. “He’s a good kid and he likes you. I really appreciate you spending time with him.” She took a swig of beer. “Wow.