“Too many memories?”
She returned her gaze to the floor. After her mother died, it was painful to be in the house. Mama’s presence was in every corner. To be there without her felt wrong, but that wasn’t why she sold it.
“I couldn’t afford to make the payments.” She heaved a sigh. “Janey hated me when I sold it. She loved that house.”
Not that it mattered. After getting her accounting degree, Emma landed a position with a large firm in Helena, the nearest big city. The pay was too good to pass up, but Janey never forgave her for leaving home.
Dillon turned his gaze to Annie, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. For a long moment, he stared at her, looking lost in thought. Then, with a deep breath, he looked at Emma again. “I want the two of you to stay here.”
“Here? With you?” She darted a glance around, her heart pounding. The implications of his suggestion hit her full force. Stay in this house, with him? Alone? Then she’d have to admit she…
He grunted in acknowledgement.
She turned away, her cheeks heating, and vehemently shook her head. “A generous offer, but I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t plan on being in town that long. I’ve only got a few days off. I have to be back at work on Wednesday.” Emma crossed her arms and made herself face him again. She prayed that would be enough to dissuade him, but she knew it likely wouldn’t. When Dillon James wanted something, he usually got it.
He stared at her for a long moment. Then the crease in his brow deepened. Anger blazed from the depth of his penetrating eyes. “So, what, you just thought you’d dump the news on me and take Annie back with you? Why’d you come, Em? What is it you really want? It’s been eight years. You could very easily have kept her and nobody would have been the wiser.” He arched a brow, his voice low and annoyingly calm. “Is it money?”
She flinched at the blatant accusation and glared at him. “You know me better than that.”
He turned his gaze to Annie, lowering his voice. “You’d be surprised how many times the fake pregnancy has been tried on me.”
“Well, I’d never do such a thing. You, of all people, should know that.” She wanted to be angry with him for daring to accuse her of trying to use a baby to extort money from him. Money didn’t mean much to her. Bills had to be paid.
A sad truth shone in Dillon’s eyes she couldn’t ignore. She wondered how many times the phony pregnancy ploy had been played on him.
He let out a heavy breath. “She’s my daughter. I want her to stay with me. Janey’s kept her from me for too long.” He looked up and arched a brow, his eyes daring her to challenge him. “Of course, I can call my family’s lawyer if I need to.”
Any other time his comment would have irked the hell out of her. Dillon pulled rank on her, using his name and money like weapons. She couldn’t bring herself to be angry with him for this. Given the situation, he expected her to be the enemy, and why shouldn’t he? Janey had taken his choice away from him.
It flat out awed her to watch him, the way he looked at Annie. The protective way he held her against his chest. Despite knowing it could mean losing Annie altogether, she had to give him this chance. They both deserved it.
“If I planned to take her away from you, I wouldn’t be here.”
He turned his gaze back to Annie, his expression cool and detached. “Then I guess you’re going to have to get used to the idea of living with me for a few days, because I want her to stay with me.”
The timer on the oven buzzed, filling the silence that suddenly spawned like a living, breathing entity between them. Dillon handed Annie back to her, then moved around her with a calmness Emma wished she shared. She hugged Annie to her chest, glad to hold her again, and turned.
Watching Dillon trek into the kitchen, dread formed a hard knot in her stomach. He was right. The best thing for Annie would be to give him the time Janey stole from him, but living with him, even for a few days, wouldn’t be anywhere near simple.
* * *
Standing at the kitchen sink an hour later, rinsing dishes, Dillon glanced over at Emma. Beside him at the counter, she spooned leftovers into a plastic container, her head bent over the task. Neither of them had said much since they left the table ten minutes ago, but Emma… Emma barely looked at him.
To say dinner had been awkward was an understatement. They ate in near silence, entirely too aware of each other, struggling to make painful small talk that amounted to discussing the weather and her drive over from the city. Emma sat stiffly in her seat, picking at her food. He wasn’t exactly hungry either. Too much stood between them.