Сьюзен Мейер – Mothers In A Million: A Father for Her Triplets / First Comes Baby... (страница 8)
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
“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
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 orchids as the cake top—it was beautiful. A work of art. Creating cakes didn’t just satisfy her need for money; it gave expression to her soul.
“You like?”
“Those flowers aren’t real?”
“Nope. Those are gum paste flowers.”
“My God. They’re so perfect. Like art.”
She laughed. Hadn’t she thought the same thing? “It will be melted art if we don’t get it inside soon.”
They took the layers into the event room and set up the cake on the table off to the right of the bride and groom’s dinner seating. Around them, the caterers put white cloths on the tables. The florist brought centerpieces. The event room transformed into a glorious pink-and-lavender heaven right before their eyes.
Around four, guests began straggling in. They signed the book and found assigned seats as the bar opened.
At five-thirty the bride and groom arrived. A murmur rippled through the room. Missy sighed dreamily. This was what happened when a bride and groom were evenly matched. Happiness. All decked out in white chiffon, the beautiful bride glowed. In his black tux, the suave and sophisticated groom could have broken hearts. Wyatt looked at his watch.
“We have about two hours before we get to the cake,” Missy told him.
He groaned. “Wonder what Owen’s doing right now?”
“You’d rather be in the sandbox?”
“All men would rather be playing in dirt than making nice with a bunch of people wearing monkey suits.”
She laughed. That was certainly not the old nerdy Wyatt she knew in high school. That kid didn’t play. He read. He studied. He did not prefer dirt to anything.
She peeked over at him with her peripheral vision. She supposed having money would change anybody. But these changes were different. Not just a shift from a nerdy kid to a sexy guy. But a personality change. Before, he’d seen injustice and suffered in silence. Now he saw injustice—such as Owen being alone—and he fixed it. Even his helping her was his attempt at making up for her ex abandoning her.
Interesting.
White-coated waiters stood at the ready to serve dinner. The best man gave the longest toast in recorded history. In the background, a string quartet played a waltz.
Wyatt looked at his watch again. Silence stretched between them. Missy knew he was bored. She was bored, too. But standing around, waiting to cut the cake, was part of her job.
Suddenly he caught her hand and led her outside, but a thought stopped her short. “Is the wedding bringing up bad marriage memories?”
He laughed and spun her in a circle and into his arms. “Actually, I’m bored and I love to dance.”
“To waltz?” If her voice came out a bit breathless, she totally understood why. The little spin and tug he’d used to get her into his arms for the dance had pressed her flush against him. His arm rested on her waist. Her hand sat on his strong shoulder. And for a woman who’d been so long deprived of male-female contact, it was almost too much for her nerves and hormones to handle. They jumped and popped.
She told herself to think of the old Wyatt. The nice kid. The geeky guy who’d taught her algebra. But she couldn’t. This Wyatt was taller, broader, stronger.
Bolder.
He swung her around in time with the string quartet music, and sheer delight filled her. Her defenses automatically rose and the word
“Where’d you learn to dance like this?”
“Florida. I can dance to just about anything.”