Now Emma moved about his kitchen, putting leftover food away and helping him with the dishes like she’d been there a million times. The situation built an awkward wall between them. One he longed to break through, simply to feel some sort of ease with her.
“When we’re done here, we can go over to the bed and breakfast and pick up your things.”
Emma paused in her task to look at him. She stared for a long moment, and then her shoulders slumped in defeat. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Had he lost his mind inviting her to stay with him, allowing her into his world for more than just one night? He had. With Emma being so close, staying away from her wouldn’t be easy. He wanted her too much. It may have been eight years, he may have grown up a lot in that time, but she was still gorgeous and damned if he didn’t want her the same way he always had.
Dillon glanced at Annie sound asleep in the car seat, in the corner of the kitchen. He wanted a chance to get to know her. She pulled at a protectiveness deep inside that flat-out floored him. She’d just lost her mother, but she was too young to know. He was the only parent she had left and no matter what, he intended to be there to take care of her and watch her grow.
He frowned at the sink. Who was he kidding? He had no idea how he’d fit her into his life. He simply didn’t have time for a child. The club took all of his waking hours. Not that any of that mattered. He needed to step up and be the father she needed.
“I’d also like to go see Doctor Marley tomorrow.” He turned to pull open the dishwasher. “I’d like a blood test done.”
“You think I’m the type of women who’d lie about something like this?” Emma carried the leftovers to the fridge and put them inside before turning to look at him, those piercing eyes staring him down.
There was that disappointed look she’d given him so many times over the years. Although it could get him in a world of trouble, he wanted more than anything to permanently wipe it from her eyes. To prove to her he wasn’t that person.
He shot her a frown. “Don’t look at me like that. I need to know for sure. Frankly, my folks are going to demand a paternity test anyway.”
Emma pursed her lips, her brow furrowing and turned to stare at the floor. “They think my sister was trouble.”
He had to laugh at that one. “Janey was trouble and we both know it.”
She made a sound at the back of her throat. “She’s still my sister, and I loved her.”
He grabbed a plate from the sink and slotted it into the dishwasher, his chest heavy. Janey had been his best friend since he was seven. She’d always been there. “So did I.”
Emma crossed the kitchen, grabbed a glass out of the sink, and set it into the dishwasher. “Well, I’d like the test done too. I’d like something a little more concrete to go by than a letter inside a diary I found under her mattress.”
He quirked a brow. “Because you’re hoping she won’t be mine?”
This one bothered him. Yet another reminder she didn’t trust him. She appeared to assume what everyone else in town did. That he was a rich playboy, out for a good time. He’d grown up, and he wished just once she’d see that part of him instead.
Her gaze jerked to his face, moving in search of something. Then finally she shook her head. “Annie deserves a father.”
“Agreed.” Regret washed over him. He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “Why the hell didn’t she tell me?”
Emma sighed. “You read the letter. Janey said she was afraid.”
That comment got to him. Anger rose in his chest before he could stop it. Dillon opened his eyes and drew his brows together, dropping a cup into the dishwasher with a little more force than intended. “The choice wasn’t hers to make. She should have told me. Contrary to popular belief, I wouldn’t have turned my back on her.”
“I’m not saying you would have.” Emma laid a gentle hand on his forearm, a gesture of reassurance that somehow soothed a frazzled nerve.
Barely managing to ignore the warmth of her palm seeping into his skin, he darted a glance at her. Finding the same gentleness in her eyes, his anger deflated. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers, you know. They’re not always right.”
She leaned back against the counter, hands gripping the edge. “Janey once told me you were determined to stay single. The papers said something similar. Were they wrong?”
There went those intrusive questions again. Dillon shrugged. “No, in that instance, they’re right. I have no desire to get emotionally involved in a relationship.”