He tipped his chair for a better view into the hall and let himself study her for an unrestrained moment. She’d made a small pile of clothes to use, a larger pile of obvious discards neatly folded to the other side.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Did Emily get to her boyfriend’s house okay?”
Jacob thudded his chair to the ground along with his thoughts, better all the way around. “Uh-huh.”
She hooked an arm over the rim of the box, her slim legs tucked to the side. “Am I bothering you?”
Yeah. “No. Why?”
“I was only trying to make polite conversation, fill the silence a little. We’re stuck here together, after all. I didn’t mean to be a pest. Just say the word if you don’t want to talk.”
“Didn’t mean to be rude. I’m buried in paperwork.” There. That sounded like a polite excuse.
“Sorry.”
He scrolled down the computer screen and began cross-referencing expenditures for tax returns. His father hadn’t been much for bookkeeping. Jacob just prayed the old man had actually paid his taxes.
He needed to come up with enough money to get Emily through the college years. His pay didn’t come close to covering that. Plus, even if he could convince her to move in with him, she would need child care during school hours and someone to stay with her when he was deployed.
Dee cleared her throat and coughed, still dainty sounds. “Little Madison is precious. And the baby’s father seems…involved? It was nice of you to let them have time together today.”
Jacob slipped in a backup CD. “Like I had a choice. As Emily said, I’m her brother not her father.”
Pain flashed in Dee’s eyes before they turned flat as a slap of mud on a windshield. He’d been curt, but the whole situation frustrated him. He wanted to beat the crap out of Chase, but Emily insisted she loved him and they were going to get married. The situation made his blood boil, so he was better off staying quiet.
The rustling of clothes brought his attention back to the present as Dee sorted through the box. How could one small woman explode into his life so fully in the span of a few hours?
“I have big feet!”
“What?” Jacob pivoted in his chair, doing a slow take toward her.
Dee sat in the middle of the discarded pile. A tennis shoe dangled off the end of her toes like Cinderella’s stepsisters trying on the glass slipper.
She snatched the shoe off her foot. “Did I say that out loud? Sorry, but my feet are kind of big.”
“You’re only just noticing?” This was the strangest woman he’d ever met.
“I, uh, just forget sometimes that the rest of the world doesn’t have snow skis for feet.”
If he didn’t get her outfitted soon, she would never return to her room. He gave up the fight and moved to help her. He tucked into the closet and pulled out another box.>Dee clutched the top sheet to her chest. Generation Y. How could she recall such catchphrases but not her own name? She swallowed down a fresh well of nausea and searched for why she’d hooked on the phrase.
Nothing.
She remembered about key cards and movies, but no real life experiences to accompany the information. She sagged to the edge of the bed.
“You okay?” Emily asked.
Dee jerked. “Huh? Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’m a little distracted today.” She swallowed hard and searched for normal conversation. “So, uh, is Chase Madison’s father?”
Emily nodded, thankfully not offended by the question. She hitched the baby on her shoulder and tugged her shirt back in place. “We’re gonna get married when we’re older.”
A tap sounded from the door just before it opened. A blast of air funneled into the room as Jacob stepped inside, his broad shoulders momentarily sealing the entry.
His height no longer intimidating, her nerves smoothed as if an iron had flattened all the disruptive wrinkles. How did he do that? Manage to calm her world with a job offer and a sandwich?
Jacob slammed the door closed behind him. He swiped the baby from Emily’s shoulder and lowered his oversize body into the seat to finish burping the infant. “Hey, there, runt. How many doughnuts did your mama pilfer?”
“Only one, that you know of.” Emily grinned without a flicker of remorse. “Madison needs the fruit in that raspberry pastry.”