"Absolutely." Joey reached over and grabbed a napkin, wiping off her hands. "Sure, I can use two more hands in the kitchen. I think between Travis mowing the lawns all day and your dad working, they'll eat a lot."
Travis grinned, ducking his head. Wyatt squeezed Joey's hip, pulling her closer. That right there. That gift of importance Joey gave to his son. That attention. That respect. It meant something to him.
"How old are you?" Travis looked at Joey.
Wyatt cleared his throat, gave a slight shake of his head, but his son never caught the warming.
Jess slapped her brother's arm and whispered, "Don't be rude."
"I'm not." Travis glanced at Joey. "She can cook, and she doesn't look that old."
Joey grinned. "I'm twenty-six years old."
"Whoa...Dad is way older than you, and he still can't cook," said Travis.
"Hey." Wyatt stepped over and took the piece of pizza out of Travis's hand, making him get another piece. "Guys don't cook."
"They should. They have to eat, don't they?" said Joey.
"Oh...burn." Jess held up her hand, and Joey gave her a high-five.
Wyatt chuckled, okay with being the source of entertainment. "And for your information, son. I'm not old."
Joey glowed, enjoying the banter. He cocked his brow. His manhood suffering blows left and right, he had no problem showing her he was still young enough to wear her out in bed.
Chapter 11Joey
JESS LEANED AGAINST the corner of Joey's davenport and watched television. Travis, sprawled on the floor on his back, tossed a hacky sack in the air and caught it. Joey put the foil over the platter she filled with extra tacos left over from dinner and set it on the counter for the Carr family to take home with them.
Wyatt got up from the La-Z-Boy and walked into the kitchen, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "I'll be back."
Knowing he was going outside to have a smoke and greedy for some alone time with him, she said, "Hang on. I'll come out with you."
He held out his hand. She grabbed onto him. Her stomach doing somersaults at the chance to touch him.
Around the kids, she tried to keep her hands to herself. Though Wyatt made no attempt at keeping his distance. He'd kissed her four times—once on the lips, three on the temple, and that was only during the time she was in the kitchen making the tacos. To her surprise, neither one of his kids seemed to think the display of affection was shocking or wrong.
Their opinion probably formed because she also noticed how much Wyatt showered attention to his kids. She often found him putting his hand on their shoulders, smoothing their hair, and nudging them while sharing a grin.
He was a loving father. That was something that surprised her. Going by appearance and gruffness, she assumed he'd have zero patience with kids, but he was soft when he needed to be and stern when the kids started pushing the limits.
Outside, Wyatt leaned against the building. She stepped in front of him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest. It seemed like forever since she'd been able to hold him.
He blew smoke into the air and tangled his hand in her hair, stroking her head. "Tired?"
"No." She inhaled deeply. "I'm too happy that you're here with me."
"Cancel your plans for tonight."
She looked up at him. "Why?"
"Cause I'm going to send the kids home, and I'm staying here for a couple of hours." He wound his finger in her hair, brought her higher, and kissed her. "I want you naked and underneath me."
"You can't send the kids away just because you want to be alone with me."
"It won't be a problem tonight." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I stopped at Blockbuster and picked up two movies to entertain them after they finish their homework. They won't even realize I'm gone."
"That's the place that lets you rent VCR movies, right?" She leaned against him. "I didn't know they had one in Missoula. I haven't rented movies yet."
"The kids are too old to need a babysitter, but the way Travis has been running off whenever he wants, I'm going to test him and see if a movie will keep him inside when I'm not around."
It was easy to worry about Travis. A motherless boy, trying to fit in at a new school, he was someone she wanted to hug and not let go.
"Are you afraid of him running away again?" she asked.
His hand stilled, and he took a hit from the cigarette, tilting back his head and sent a stream of smoke above them. "I think about it every time he's out of my sight."
"Where does he go?"
"Hell, if I know."
"Could he want to go back to where he lived with his mom? He's probably missing her terribly," she said.
Wyatt grunted. "Claudia wasn't much of a mother."
Stunned into silence, she refrained from asking more. She also had a different opinion, believing a child would miss his mom, regardless if she was a good parent or a bad one. As a child, she only had a mom—a good one, but she yearned for a dad, even knowing that he'd wanted nothing to do with having a child and chose to not be involved in her life.
"Claudia had a drug problem. She'd get clean, shape up, and then for months be on a road of self-destruction," he said.
"You shared custody with her?" She closed her mouth, not meaning to pry into his past.
"Went to court twice to try and get full custody, but the judge thought they belonged with their mom, even with all the evidence I provided about her addiction."
Nothing she could say would help his situation. She could only listen.
"Now, their stepdad is threatening to take me to court to try and get them every other weekend." He shifted, stubbed out his smoke on his jeans, and pocketed the butt. "He can spout off all he wants, but if
