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made his way to the door, put his hand on Wyatt’s head, and tried to smooth his hair. The boy had been right. He could dress himself—if you discounted his mismatched socks. Taming his curls, however, was another matter. “Dean’s got a fever, and I’d say he’s looking at a few days—at least—in bed.”
    “Likewise, Mason. And it had to happen that Dean got sick, I suppose.” Joe scratched his beard and rested his large frame against the door. “He’s been working too hard for too long. Too busy for a break, that boy.”
    “He’s taking one now, whether he likes it or not.”
    Chuckling, Joe nodded. “That he is. Well, I’ll be out of your hair. I just wanted to check in, since Dean is always out early. Try to keep him indoors as long as you can.”
    “Will do. And if I can help with anything, let me know.”
    Joe nodded, winked at Wyatt, and left.
    “All right, kiddo. Your daddy’s not feeling well, so he’s going to sleep for a while.” Mason kicked the door shut and took a deep breath, knowing what lay ahead. “We’re on our own for breakfast. What are we having?”
    “Peas.”
    “For breakfast?”
    Wyatt nodded seriously, and Mason scratched his forehead. “How about cereal instead?”
    Scrunching up his little face in concentration, Wyatt considered it. “Okay.”
    Cereal was safe. Mason grabbed bowls and spoons while Wyatt climbed into his seat at the table. Mason placed three different cereal boxes on the table, along with the milk. He had managed to produce a meal—kind of—without panicking.
    “The milk needs to be warm.”
    Mason closed his eyes in resignation. Of course it did. Why would Wyatt Walker want to put cold milk on his cereal? It was only what everyone else did. “Cold milk tastes good too.”
    “Nope.”
    “Nope,” Mason muttered to himself. He considered refusing Wyatt’s request, but he recognized a golden opportunity when he saw one. And it was just milk, after all. He’d already reached for a saucepan to heat it in when he remembered the microwave. Using that was taking the easy way out, but with Dean out for the count, it meant that dinner was on Mason too. One step at the time.
    Still he broke out in a cold sweat when he placed a mug of milk in the microwave and switched it on. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to turn it off and get out of the kitchen as fast as he could, and he almost listened. But then he glanced at Wyatt, who waited patiently for his warm milk for the cereal he was currently stirring with his finger. Mason realized that he didn’t want to be the man who couldn’t heat a little milk for a boy who’d just lost his mother.
    When the timer beeped, Mason was ridiculously relieved. He’d just avoided disaster, a nervous breakdown, and drowning in memories he fought to suppress every day.
    “Thank you,” Wyatt said when Mason poured the milk over the well-stirred cereal. The smile that went along with the simple words made facing his fears worth it for Mason. But he still hoped Dean would recover miraculously before dinnertime. He was pretty sure there were no restaurants in town that delivered this far out.
    Dean was pretty out of it. Mason spent the rest of the day checking on him, making sure he stayed hydrated, playing with Wyatt, doing some laundry, and jotting down ideas. Dean had mentioned that he was considering a restaurant to fit into his concept, and the idea had stayed with Mason. With his experience, the ideas were piling up in his head.
    Old Joe stopped by the house again in the afternoon. “Just checking in,” he said and he accepted a cup of coffee after Mason finally worked up the courage to use the machine. “Is the boss man still out?”
    “Yeah, I figure that sleeping is the best thing for him, right now.”
    Joe nodded. “I had a strange call today from someone wanting us to cater a wedding. I said we didn’t do that, of course, but I wanted to mention it to Dean. That boy is so full of ideas. One more