Sweet Trilogy: Sweet Talk / Sweet Spot / Sweet Trouble

“COME IN,” Amy signed before getting out of the car. “Come in.”

Claire hesitated, looking at the two-story house, then back at the girl next to her. She didn’t mind going into the house or spending extra time with Amy. What made her hesitate was the big truck parked in the driveway. Wyatt was home and as much as Claire wanted to see him, the thought of seeing him made her feel oddly nervous. Still, she nodded and got out of the car.

They walked up the main path. The front door opened before they could knock and Amy flew toward her father. He caught her hard against him and laughed as he spun her in a circle.

“How’s my best girl?” he asked, looking at her as he spoke so she could read his lips.

“Good,” Amy signed, then looked at her and spoke. “Claire’s driving is getting better.”

Claire laughed. “Gee, thanks for the compliment. I’ve been practicing. The freeway still doesn’t make me happy, but I can manage. And my GPS barely yells at me at all.”

“Come on in,” Wyatt said. He put down his daughter and held open the front door.

Claire walked into the house. She’d been here several times. There was no reason to be nervous. Yet her stomach kept clenching and her skin felt funny. Sort of tingly and tight.

Maybe all this was because she’d been looking over her to-do list and had thought Wyatt would be a great candidate for the “have sex” item.

She looked at him now, from under her lashes, appreciating the way his broad shoulders stretched his shirt. He was strong. What would it be like to have someone to lean on? Someone dependable who could handle anything? Not that his strength was any reason she would want to sleep with him. Or maybe it was. She certainly wasn’t an expert.

Amy signed that she was going to her room, then disappeared down the hallway. Wyatt watched her go, then turned to Claire.

“I really appreciate you looking after her.”

“I’m happy to do it. She’s a lot of fun and very patient with my signing.”

“She’s happy you want to learn.”

Claire frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s how she communicates.”

“A lot of people won’t take the trouble.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and looked at her. “We never discussed me paying you for your time. We should.”

“I don’t want to be paid,” she told him. “I don’t want to talk about money.” When he didn’t look convinced, she added, “We’re family. Sort of.”

He nodded. “Almost related until Nicole heals enough to get a divorce lawyer. I can’t believe how Drew screwed that up.”

She couldn’t, either. Who did that kind of thing? She remembered her attack. “Is he okay? Is there still a puncture in his face?”

“Do you care?”

She considered the question. “Not really.”

Wyatt grinned. “Now you sound like your sister.”

“She’s rubbing off on me.” Which might be a good thing, Claire thought. Nicole wouldn’t have let Lisa push her around. Nicole would have told her exactly what she could do with her stupid, demanding schedule and then she would have walked.

“You’re looking fierce about something,” Wyatt said. “What are you thinking about?”

“My manager. I’m wishing I was more like Nicole so I could tell her off.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Sometimes. Right now I’m avoiding her calls. Not the best way to handle the situation.”

He led the way into the kitchen. The room was large and bright, like most of the others in the house.

The cabinets looked relatively new. There were granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

Impressive, she thought, remembering he knew how to cook. Talk about the perfect man. Except, if he was so perfect, why wasn’t he married or at least with someone. Was he with someone?

“Want something to drink?” he asked.

“Anything diet.”

He looked at her. “Do I look like a guy who drinks diet?”

The tingles were back. “Not really.”

“Good. But I keep some around for Nicole.” He got a soda out of the refrigerator, collected a glass, filled it with ice and set it in front of her. “So why don’t you tell her off yourself?”

“Lisa? I don’t know. I never have. I should. It’s different now. I’m not a kid anymore.” The problem was that she still felt like a kid. As if she had to ask for permission.

“Is she why you’re not playing?” he asked.

She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not playing the piano,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be? Isn’t that what you do?”

Not anymore, she thought sadly, remembering the previous evening when she’d managed to lose herself in music. She’d played for hours, until she was trembling with exhaustion and soaked with sweat. She’d played and played, wanting the music to heal everything. Unfortunately the complications in her life were such that playing was only a distraction, albeit a satisfying one.

“I don’t have any current tour dates,” she said. “It’s close to summer. The season winds down during the late spring. Everything starts back up in the fall.”

Wyatt pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and took the chair across from hers. “You didn’t cancel anything to look after Nicole?”

“No. Would it have been better if I had?”

“I don’t know. We were talking about it last night. I dropped by to check on her.”

He’d been at the house? Claire fought a sense of loss for having missed the visit.

“I would have canceled dates to be here,” she said. “Not that Nicole would believe that.”

“She can be tough.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”