A Father for Her Triplets: Her Pregnancy Surprise by Susan Meier Page B

found in the pantry. Seeing the sludgelike paste, he checked the expiration date and with a groan of disgust threw it out.
    What the hell was going on? Not only was he eating junk, things that had been in cupboards for God knew how long, but he was attracted to a woman who seemed equally attracted but kept rebuffing him. So he’d offered her money, to give them a logical reason to keep their relationship platonic, and instead of making her happy, he’d made her mad. Mad. Most people would jump for joy when they’d been offered money.
    She should have jumped for joy.
    Maybe what he needed was to get out of this house? He hadn’t really cared to see a lot of the people from his high school days, but he was changing his mind. A conversation about anything other than Missy Johnson and her wedding cakes and her cute kids might be just what he needed to remind him he wasn’t an eighteen-year-old sap anymore, pining over a pretty girl who didn’t want him. When it came to women, he could have his pick. He didn’t need one Missy Johnson.
    He straddled his motorcycle and headed for the diner. He ambled inside and found the place almost empty. Considering that it was a sunny Sunday afternoon, Wyatt suspected everybody was outside doing something physical. A waitress in a pink uniform strolled over. He ordered a hot roast beef sandwich and mashed potatoes smothered in brown gravy. For dessert he ate pie.
    After a good meal, he felt a hundred percent better. He hadn’t seen anybody he recognized or who recognized him, but it didn’t matter. All he’d needed to get himself back to normal was some real food.
    He paid the bill, but curiosity stopped him from heading for the door. Instead, he peeked into the kitchen. “Hey, Monty. It’s me. Wyatt McKenzie.”
    Missy’s dad set his spatula on the wood-topped island in the center of the diner kitchen. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
    Tall, balding and wearing a big apron over jeans and a white T-shirt, he walked over and slapped Wyatt on the back. “How the hell are you, kid?”
    “I’m fine. Great.” He looked around. “Wow. The place hasn’t changed one iota in fifteen years.”
    “People like consistency.”
    “Yep.” He knew that from running his own company, but there was a difference between consistent and run-down. Still, it wasn’t his place to mention that. “I’m surprised you don’t have any of Missy’s cakes in here.”
    Monty stepped back. Returning to the wood-topped island, he picked up his spatula. “Oh, she doesn’t bake for me anymore.”
    “Too busy with her own cakes, I guess.”
    Monty glanced up. “Is she doing good? I mean, one businessman to another?”
    Wyatt laughed. Having seen a bit of her pride that morning, he guessed she probably hadn’t told her father anything about her business beyond the basics. Maybe he’d also made the mistake of offering her money?
    “She’s doing great. Three future brides corralled her when she tried to leave yesterday’s wedding reception.”
    “Wow. She is doing well.”
    “Exceptionally well. She’s a bit stubborn, though, about some things.”
    “Are you helping her?”
    He winced. “She’s not much on taking help.”
    Monty snorted. “Never was.”
    Well, okay. That pushed his mood even further up the imaginary scale. If she wouldn’t take help from her dad, why should Wyatt be surprised she wouldn’t take help from him?
    The outing got him back to normal, but not so much that he braved going into Missy’s house the next morning. He went to the sandbox and five minutes later Owen, Lainie and Claire came racing out of the house.
    While playing Wiffle ball with the kids, he ascertained that their mom was working on a new cake.
    “This one will be yellow,” Lainie said.
    Not knowing what else to do, he smiled. “Yellow. That’s nice. I like yellow.”
    “I like yellow, too.”
    “Me, too.”
    “Me, too.”
    He laughed. He didn’t for one minute think yellow was that important to any