Penny frowned and sat beside him. She had a feeling whatever was eating at Dillon had nothing to do with her. “What happened?" she asked softly. She caught his gaze and she found a wealth of sadness and pain, so much so that she wanted to hold them in her arms and tell him it was going to be all right. But she did neither and simply waited.
"Kiss me, Penny," Dillon murmured, leaning toward her. As much as she wanted to sink into his embrace she put her hand up to stop him. He seemed to understand and didn't push the issue. He sighed. "Smart choice. You deserve better. Sorry for fucking with your life."
"Being a martyr doesn't suit you. I made my own choices. Now tell me, what's going on?"
"Do you really want to know? It might change your whole opinion of me forever."
At that she actually chuckled. "Dillon, let's be real. I already know you're a jerk at your worst but I also know that at your best you're pretty amazing. Whatever is wrong I promise I won't judge you."
God, she hoped she could live up to that promise. What if he admitted something heinous? Like he liked to slaughter puppies in his spare time? No, she told her rapidly running away imagination, whatever was eating at him had something to do with Isabel. She’d be willing to bet her life on it. And if that was the case, she would gladly provide the shoulder for him to cry on because God knows, Dillon has needed to let this go for a long time.
"I used to blame my brothers for Isabel's death but in reality, it was me. I'm the one who caused her to jump off that building. If she hadn't met me, she wouldn't have gotten pregnant with my baby." Dillon met Penny startled stare. "Yeah, you heard me correctly. Penny was pregnant with my baby."
"How do you know?"
"Ah, well, it seems my brothers have always known. But they decided to keep that information from me. Apparently there was a DNA test during autopsy," Dillon looked sick to his stomach. "And the DNA match came back to me.” He looked to her. "I could've been a daddy. Scary thought, huh?"
"I think when you get your head on straight you’ll be an amazing father." Maybe she shouldn't have admitted that but it was true. The fact that she would willingly have his children was something that she would keep to herself however. "Why didn't they tell you?" she asked.
"I don't know but I can guess. Vince was in love with Isabel and he wanted to lash out at me. He didn't feel I deserved to know. Nolan, probably didn't want the publicity. I don't know, all I know is that this is damn near unforgivable."
"No it's not," Penny disagreed surprising him. "You've been fighting with your brothers for so long it's time to let it go. Isabel died. How long are you going to let her ghost chase you around? I hate to be blunt but this is the way that it is, Isabel is gone she is part of the past and so is your baby. You have your whole future ahead of you, if you would just grab it. If you chose you could have gobs of children and be an amazing father to each and every one of them but instead you're choosing to drown yourself in alcohol over something that happened in the past. You can’t change what happened. Don’t use it as an excuse to fight with your brothers over misplaced guilt. Get over it, Dillon. Stop living in the past."
"Easy to say when you're not living it."
"No, actually it's not easy to say. But I think it's something that needs to be said. I've only known the Buchanans for a relatively short time but in that time I've learned a few things. You are all selfish jerks. You used people for your own advantage and you let money draw your moral boundaries. Basically, what you've all learned is that money doesn't buy happiness. It's a trite statement but it is so true. When I was growing up my Papa didn't have a lot. But I always had lots of love. Can you say the same? From what I've heard about your father he wasn't very affectionate. Kids need love not an endless bank account. You have an opportunity to be different and change and so do the twins. Take a chance and be different."
"I don't know how to be different."
"Sure you do. You were different with me." With that soft admission she leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss across his lips. "I saw the real you for a brief moment and I liked that man. I liked him a lot. But I don't like the man he pretended to be because you're so consumed with bitterness and anger so when you're ready to let the true you come through I'll be here, waiting."
"You're an impossible romantic," Dillon said his gaze softening. "How does someone like you navigate the world without being crushed by people like my family?"
“I'm tougher than I look,” she retorted dryly. "Now, would you like me to call you a cab?"
He looked wounded. "You would toss me out on my ear in my state? What if I trip and crack my head open? All manner of nasty things can happen to a poor drunk man suffering from an overindulgence of scotch and a heavy conscience."
She laughed. "Fine. You can take the couch."
"I have a better idea," he suggested, catching her hand and pulling her closer. "I say I stay right here, in this bed with you. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”
"I don’t believe you,” she said.
He shrugged. “Now how is that my fault?” he asked, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. He began to unbutton his jeans and Penny gasped and covered her eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked, amused by her reaction. “There’s nothing here you haven’t seen already,” he reminded her.
“I know that,” she said, scowling from behind her hands. “But I don’t need to see it again. At least not like this.”
“And how is that?” he asked, sliding from the bed. He pulled her hands away from her face and she met his gaze, willing herself to stay strong but he was quite possibly the most beautiful man on the planet and it simply wasn’t fair. Her gaze dipped to the hard muscles of his abdomen and she sucked in a shocked breath at how quickly arousal spiked through her. Oh damn. Her resolve was slipping already. She tried staring at him crossly. “What are you doing? How are we supposed to be friends if you keep trying to seduce me?” she asked.
He laughed, the sound causing ripples of awareness to jolt her backside. “Whoever said I wanted to be friends?” he asked, plucking at the ties on her shirt until the two halves slid open and revealed a creamy expanse of shoulder. His gaze darkened and he drew her into the shelter of his embrace before she could whisper a protest. He teased her mouth with the press of his lips, the taste of alcohol still on his breath, as he said silkily, “You and I were never destined to be friends, sweet little dove.” He tightened his grip on her possessively. “We were destined to be lovers.”