Tandy laughed, she couldn’t help it. And when she laughed, the others did, too. It was like they were waiting for her reaction and following her lead. Which was wrong. What he’d done was to her, not them. Click was their friend, a friend who needed help.
“How about spoon?” Tandy offered.
Click arched a dark brow. “That’s some spoon.”
She shook her head, her mood slipping when their eyes locked. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t look at her like that—like it was okay to smile at her. She swallowed hard and turned toward the toddler still waiting for her new word. “Spoon, Pearl. It’s a spoon.” She spoke clearly, grinning at the way Pearl watched her lips.
Pearl grinned, dropped the spatula, clapped her hands and waited.
All four adults clapped their hands in answer.
Pearl giggled, running into Click’s open arms. He tossed her in the air, eliciting further peals of laughter. Banshee perked up, placing a paw on Click’s arm.
“No?” Click asked the dog, setting Pearl on her feet.
Pearl squealed and ran across the room to Tandy, her little arms twining around her leg. Tandy was helpless to resist. She scooped Pearl up and tickled her, savoring her solid weight and sweet, clean smell. When Pearl yawned and burrowed close, Tandy cradled her close. “Who’s a cuddle bunny?” she whispered.
“With you,” Click said.
Tandy ignored him. She didn’t want to be special to this baby. It would hurt too much when they left. She stared down at the toddler, noting Pearl’s dimple, the bow shape of her little lips and the slight tilt of her nose. She was all peaches and cream, her eyes fringed with thick, dark lashes like her daddy. But instead of Click’s blue-green gaze, Pearl’s were a light brown.
When Click came to her side, she didn’t know. But now that he was, Tandy was hard-pressed not to react. Angry or not, he still had a powerful effect on her. Until she learned how to change that, she’d do her best not to be too obvious about it.
“You want Daddy?” she asked, forcing the word out. “Daddy?”
Pearl stared at her.
Tandy glanced at him, pointing. “Daddy. This is your daddy, Pearl.”
Click cleared his throat. “She doesn’t know me. Not really. Not yet.”
She stared up at him—she couldn’t help it. “She doesn’t?”
He glanced at her, then away.
“Daddy,” she repeated to Pearl, reeling from Click’s revelation.
Pearl looked at Click, then Tandy, then Click again.
“Da,” she announced, loudly, her little legs kicking. “Da.”
Tandy laughed, the little girl’s pride irresistible.
“That’s right, Pearl,” Scarlett said. “Daddy.”
“Da!” Pearl said again, smiling at Click.
Tandy turned, offering Pearl to Click. Click hugged his daughter close, “I’m your Da,” he said, then set her on the floor. She toddled away, picking up her spatula and following Banshee to his spot under the window. She sat, then lay down, beside the dog. It was precious. She was precious. Tandy glanced at Click again.
The happiness on his face was right, and he should be happy—so why did it hurt so much? This wasn’t about her. Whatever wounds they’d given each other in the past, Pearl wasn’t a part of that.
And yet... Tandy couldn’t forget. Fourteen months. It hurt.
“If they’re not going to ask, I will,” Renata said, sitting in the large recliner. “Why did you say she doesn’t know you? You’re her daddy, Click. All a person has to do is look at her to know that.”
Leave it to Renata to speak her mind. Her cousin was right. Pearl was the image of her father. Same thick black hair. Same smile and dimple. Beautiful. Tandy focused on Pearl. It was easier—and safer.
“Renata.” Scarlett was horrified. “That’s downright nosy.”