was her wallpaper and, therefore, proof. “See.”
He nodded as he scrutinized the image.
“You still haven’t answered my question. What does Aubrey have to do with the Butlers?” Her patience was running thin and she really was starting to get worried about Stephanie.
Wyatt looked at a loss for words.
“Never mind. Excuse me for a second while I make a call. My friend took my—” she flashed eyes at him “—our daughter for a walk around the park. She was supposed to text me in case things went sour...” Meg ran her finger along Stephanie’s name. She didn’t dare turn her back on Wyatt for fear he’d disappear even though she wanted to make this call in private. The cell ran straight into voice mail and her pulse shot up a couple more notches. “Stephanie, give me a call as soon as you get this. Hope everything is okay.”
Wyatt, who had been quiet until now, said, “I’m sure everything’s all right.”
“It’s not like her not to do something if she says she’s going to.” Meg started to pace, torn between walking away from him—and possibly never seeing him again—and checking on her daughter.
“Do you trust your friend?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Then you have to believe that she wouldn’t do anything to put your daughter in harm’s way. That’s really what you’re worried about, right? Something bad happening to...” He seemed to be searching for the name so she supplied it.
“Aubrey.”
His jaw muscle ticked. “Right. You said something about a tree-lighting ceremony and that’s probably what the traffic I drove in to get here was for. Thus, the reason I was late. They could be playing holiday music. She most likely can’t hear her cell.”
“Wouldn’t we hear if it was that loud?” she asked.
“It’s two blocks away from the restaurant. I doubt it.” He was making sense, being rational, while her over-the-top protective instinct was waging war on her insides. The two had driven separate vehicles because Stephanie had errands to run later.
“I have a bad feeling.” She couldn’t shake it no matter how hard she tried.
“You and every mother I’ve ever known.” Wyatt’s steel gaze intensified.
She looked at him, shocked.
“What?” He lifted a shoulder.
“How many like me have there been?” Astonishment flushed her cheeks.
“Like you?” He shot a look. “None.”
“Then how do you... Oh, right, you had a mother.” She didn’t figure him the type to notice the little things. “Everyone does. Even someone like—”
“You really don’t like me very much, do you?” he said with half a smirk and that infuriating twinkle in his eye that had been so good at seducing her.
“I’m sorry. It’s just ever since my—” she glanced up at him “—our daughter was born I’ve been on high alert, afraid something could happen to her. She’s so tiny and fragile except when she cries. Then I know there’s a tiger in there waiting to come out. But the rest of the time she’s just this little thing who’s totally dependent on me and I’m trying my best not to mess everything up.” Had all that really just come out? Wow. Meg was on the verge of a meltdown. She was normally more of the quiet type.
Wyatt seemed too stunned to speak.
“None of which is your problem.” She glanced at the time. More than half an hour had passed and still no word from Stephanie.
“We can head down there to the park, to see for ourselves.” He was extending an olive branch and she would take it.
“Thank you. I’d like that a lot actually.” Meg started toward the park, remembering that although he might have the swagger of a playboy and was all alpha male, she’d been drawn to his kindness in the first place. There wasn’t anything sexier than a strong man who wasn’t afraid to show he had a beating heart in his chest.
“I’m not claiming responsibility for her,” he clarified, and it was so cold outside she could see his breath. So much for the warmth.
* * *
WYATT STARED AT the woman who was walking so fast he had to hustle to keep pace. His judgment with people and especially women was normally spot-on, and he hadn’t pegged Meg Anderson as unstable or a gold digger.
In fact, she’d seemed like the most grounded, intelligent woman he’d been with in a long time, possibly ever. Her sharp mind was what he’d missed most about her. Since their tryst he’d compared every date to her and no one seemed to measure up. Even sex had been lacking, but that was a whole other story that made him think he might be losing his edge. So, he was even more shocked by her whipping out the baby card. Was there even a child? His child? This whole conversation left him scratching his head and an unsettled feeling gnawed at his gut.
He took off his coat and placed it around her arms, realizing she didn’t have any covering on her shoulders. She must’ve left her jacket on the chair back where he’d last seen it.
He didn’t have the heart to walk away while she was so distraught. Even though she’d shown him the pic of the cute infant on her phone, he couldn’t ignore the possibility that she’d jumped off the deep end. Maybe she’d been on mood-regulating drugs when they’d spent time together. Maybe she’d stopped taking them and this was the real her.
His logical mind wrestled against the possibility, but that could just be his pride unable to accept that he’d made such a wide turn with his judgment before. Wyatt had always considered himself more intelligent than that. As they said, the proof was in the pudding and this “pudding” was starting to unravel in front of his eyes.
When he really looked at her, he couldn’t ignore the changes in her body. Her hips had more pronounced curves, which were even sexier now. There were definite changes in her breasts. They’d been full before but not quite this generous.
Even tired, she was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He told himself the only reason he was noticing any of the changes in her was because he was trying to determine if she needed to be driven to Kruger Belton Mental facility for evaluation and not because he cared or was still attracted to her. His heart had fisted a little bit when he’d first seen her. He did care, generally speaking.
The park was crowded. Holiday music filled the air. Families walked in clumps, smiling and singing along with Christmas carols. It was something out of a Norman Rockwell painting and definitely not Wyatt’s scene.
“They aren’t here.” Meg stopped and looked at him, clearly flustered. She had that panicked-mother look even though he wouldn’t know from personal experience. His had been too exhausted working to keep food on the table to get too emotional. He’d known his mother loved him and the fact he’d grown up in poverty was all the more reason to be proud of the successful taco franchise he’d built from a food truck.
Meg dug in her purse and pulled out a baby’s cloth with little owls on it.
“Was she supposed to bring the baby to the restaurant?” He had no idea of the protocol in dealing with a nearly hysterical woman, but he could see from the way she twisted the baby’s cloth in her hands that she was working herself up. Experience with women had taught him that this was not the time to tell her to calm down.
“Stephanie was supposed to text first.” Meg worked the cloth in her hands.
“Her battery could’ve died.” She winced at that last word.
“I guess.” That cloth in her hands was about to become pulp.
Wyatt reached out to touch her shoulder in an attempt to reassure her but was left with a sizzle on his fingertips.