That made Wyatt smile. “South America. You know her mom and dad live there, right?”
“Uh-huh.” She picked up her second taco. “I never met them, but I talk to Grandma and Grandpa on the phone.”
That was good news. Wyatt could just look over the phone bill to get their number. That would hopefully go a long way toward locating Francie. She might not be willing to come back, but Wyatt was going to do his best to get her to keep up a relationship with Belle. He and Belle had gone to see a child psychologist two days ago, who’d told Wyatt that as long as their communication was positive, any connection Belle could retain with her mother would help her adjust in the long run.
“Well, your mom needed to go be with her mom and dad for a while.”
Belle’s taco paused halfway to her mouth. Those pretty blue eyes locked on his, and concern fisted his stomach.
Wyatt found himself rambling to short-circuit the fear over Belle’s reaction. “You know, sometimes, it’s really hard to be a mom. And your mom loves you so much that she thought it would be better for you to live with me for a while, until she’s feeling better.”
Belle put her taco back on the tray. Her gaze turned solemn, and wrinkles appeared between her eyes. Fear ratcheted up in Wyatt’s chest.
When Belle didn’t say anything, Wyatt went on. “So it’s gonna be me and you for a while.”
Her head tilted. “Am I going to your work with you?”
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“I’m still trying to figure that part out. When Grandma and Grandpa get back from their cruise, we’ll all sit down and talk about it.”
She continued to stare at him expectantly, but Wyatt didn’t know what else to say. “Are you…okay with that?”
Her frowned deepened. Her gaze went distant, as if she was thinking. And Wyatt felt like there was a piano hanging over his head.
“For how long?” she asked. “When will Mommy come home?”
Wyatt’s air stuck in his lungs. It took a long moment for him to unlock his throat and say, “I’m not sure, honey.”
When she finally looked up at him again, her eyes glistened with tears, and Wyatt felt a hot slice of panic and pain cut through his chest.
Before he could speak, she asked, “Will she be happier living with her mommy and daddy?”
The fact that Belle knew exactly how unhappy her mother was stabbed him in the heart. “Yeah, honey, I think she will. But not because she’s not with you. She really wishes she could be here, but she’s feeling sick right now.”
“Can I call her?”
“I’m working on that too, sweetie.” In fact, Wyatt had hired a PI just yesterday, and now he hoped he had a phone number to narrow the search. “It might take a little time.”
Belle stared at her uneaten taco for a long moment. “I’m not hungry anymore.” When she looked up, Wyatt braced for tears, but Belle only said, “Can I go back to school now?”
14
Gypsy should have known better than to listen to Miranda for advice on love.
While Cooper revved toy cars around tables and chairs and the bar, Gypsy multitasked, restocking beer, wine, liquor, and glassware. She glanced at her phone—again—but there was still no call or text from Wyatt. Bottles of Heineken clinked together as she filled one of the coolers, frustrated with herself for wanting to hear from him today.
She’d gone into their hookup with her eyes wide open. In her mind, she’d assured herself that it would be a one-off. A palate cleanser. Something to tide her over until she found a forever guy. But damn it to hell and back, she got way more than she expected. What was meant to be no strings and all fun had become all strings, and this turmoil inside was no fun.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him, and the same seemed to be true for him. He didn’t go more than a few hours without calling or texting her. He’d been her wakeup call in the morning and her FaceTime good night in the evening. No matter how many times she told herself not to pick up the phone, she couldn’t resist. She wanted to connect with him.
It would have been infinitely easier if he hadn’t set every cell in her body on fire. Like an addict, every time she heard his voice, she wanted more. Wanted to hear those dirty nothings purred in her ear. Wanted to feel his hard body against hers.
She needed to stop this before it got out of hand. Before they were both too invested, because a man on the road—no matter how much she felt for him—was the wrong man.
She vowed to say exactly that the next time they spoke.
After filling one of the coolers with Heineken, she grabbed the next résumé off the top of the pile, slipped her earbud in, and dialed the number for Dale Goldstein.