territory. She hated lying to her own father, but there were some things she couldn’t tell him. At least not now.
“Molly’s father isn’t involved with her at all, Dad. He doesn’t know where we are and that’s the way I hope it stays.”
“Did he hurt you?” Instantly, her affable, loving dad went into grizzly mode.
Emma’s heart swelled, relishing the feeling of being loved so fiercely. She actually didn’t need protection, but it was lovely to have it offered so freely. And she was grateful that she could at least tell him the truth about this.
“No. He didn’t.” She got up, kissed his forehead and said, “Nothing like that. I swear.”
“All right, then.” He stroked one hand down Molly’s silky black hair. “As long as you two are here and safe. That’s all that’s important.”
“Just how I feel.” And as long as Molly was safe, Emma could deal with just about anything. Then her father spoke up and tested that thought.
“Caden called me this morning.”
Her gaze snapped to his. Warily, she asked, “What did he want?”
“Oh, just to tell me he was going to send some of his men over to mow the meadow behind the barn.”
Frowning, Emma thought about that. Every year, they mowed the meadow, to protect it. The fallen grasses acted as mulch and the clipped-off seedpods planted themselves for the following spring. But since when did her ex take care of that?
“Why?” She straightened up and looked down at her father in disbelief. “First his men come and paint our fence. Now they’re mowing our meadow?”
“Well,” Frank mused, barely hiding the curve of his lips, “let’s think about that. Could be, it’s just him being neighborly. Could be, he’s trying to impress you.”
A choked-off laugh shot from her throat as she remembered clearly the look on his face when he’d murmured, Absolutely nothing. “No, it’s not that, trust me.”
“Seem awful sure.”
“You didn’t see him when he was here.” She stalked over to the fireplace and idly noted that it had been turned into a gas hearth sometime while she was gone. Easier, probably. But she’d always loved the hiss and snap of real flames over real wood.
“No, but I saw him after you left for California.”
She closed her eyes briefly, then looked back over her shoulder at her father. “I know I hurt him.”
“Crushed him, more like.”
Guilt reared up and took a bite of her heart. She knew her father was right. She’d known it then. It hadn’t stopped her because she hadn’t allowed it to. If she’d let herself acknowledge what she was doing to Caden—heck, to herself—by leaving, she might not have gone. And if she’d stayed, she’d still be wondering. Still be dreaming. Maybe Hollywood wasn’t for her, but at least now, she knew that for herself. Still, she admitted silently, maybe she could have handled it better. “I had to go, Dad.”
“I know that,” Frank said, giving her an understanding smile. “Didn’t make it any easier to lose you. I know why you had to leave, too. You think I didn’t realize what your mother gave up to marry me and have our family?” He shook his head and sighed. “She had dreams, too, Emma, and she died not knowing if they could have come true. That still tears at me.”
Emma instantly felt guilty for the pain she saw in her father’s eyes. “Oh, Dad, Mom loved you. Loved us.”
He snorted. “Hell, I know that. Doesn’t mean a part of her wasn’t wishing that she’d gone to Nashville and tried her hand at singing professionally.” Frank smoothed the baby’s hair and wistfully said, “That’s why I was glad you tried, honey. As bad as it was with you gone, I was glad you were trying.”
Tears stung her eyes and Emma blinked them back. At least her dad was glad to have her home. In the quiet, the baby cooed and gurgled in Frank’s arms. Outside the windows, the October sky was leaden and a hard gust shook the turning leaves on the trees. A week ago, she’d been in Southern California, where the only sign of fall was the pumpkin spice lattes for sale on every corner. Here in Montana, the wind was cold, the trees golden and red and you could smell winter in the air.
It was good to be back. But, since she was here to stay, she would have to have a talk with Caden.
Absolutely nothing.
His voice repeated in Emma’s mind again and she scowled to herself. Coming home was never going to be easy. She hadn’t expected it to be. And she’d known that facing Caden again would be one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but she hadn’t realized how hard it would be to not touch him. To not be touched by him. Seeing him again, hearing his voice had brought everything inside her back to life—only to be slapped down by his dismissal. She’d thought she was ready to see him again. Apparently, she’d been wrong.
“Things’ll get better,” her father said and she turned around to face him. He shifted the baby in his arms so that little Molly was looking directly at her. Emma’s heart squeezed in her chest. That tiny girl had become all-important and there was simply nothing she wouldn’t do to protect her. Bringing her here had assured that Molly would be cared for. Loved. It was up to Emma to see that she stayed that way.
“You’ll find your path, and you brought my granddaughter home, too,” Frank was saying and Emma’s heart gave another hard lurch. “Your sister will get past what she’s feeling. You two will work it out.”
Emma wasn’t so sure, but all right.
“As for me, though,” Frank said, pushing up out of his chair and cradling Molly against his chest, “I couldn’t be happier. Now I’m going to go give our girl here some lunch—”
“Dad,” she said, remembering some of what Gracie had said just a while ago, “I didn’t bring the baby here expecting you to babysit.”
Insult stamped itself on his features. “Spending time with my granddaughter isn’t ‘babysitting,’” he told her. “Besides, makes me remember when my own girls were little. Your mother and I were hopping every minute.”
A soft smile curved her mouth. “I still miss her.”
“So do I, darling. Every damn day.” Frank sighed a little, then grinned when Molly slapped her hands together. “She’d have loved this little one. So don’t you worry about me and Molly. We’re fine. You go and do something useful.”
Something useful. Was talking to Caden a waste of time? Or a chance to set them both on a different path?
She watched her father walk away and thought about it. She could go back and finish cleaning out the tack room. Or she could go over the ranch books and see exactly where they stood financially. Or maybe go and talk to the cowboys and hear their opinions.
But she wasn’t going to do any of that, Emma realized.
“Dad?”
He stopped and looked back at her, waiting.
Decision
