of man she’d be facing. But then, a man’s material worth didn’t necessarily speak for his character, she reasoned. And she was quickly learning that Finn wasn’t a man who could be summed up in one short visit.
“I apologize if my questions sound stupid. But Aimee didn’t tell me anything about you. Except that you lived in Nevada and liked horses.”
He shrugged. “Guess that was all that mattered to her. When I told her I lived on the Silver Horn, she seemed to be familiar with the ranch. But we didn’t talk about it that much. She asked about our remuda and the broodmares and a little about the ranch house. It didn’t seem important to her.”
Her thoughts whirled as she gathered the few dirty dishes scattered over the countertop and piled them into the sink. “So Aimee understood you were wealthy?”
“I figure she made that assumption. But I never told her any such thing. Only a braggart starts spouting off information like that to a woman he’s just met,” he said. “I don’t expect you share the balance of your bank account with the men you meet.”
Pulling back her shoulders, she said, “I don’t meet that many men. But if I did, they wouldn’t hear about my finances. I just wondered...”
“If Aimee pursued me because of my wealth?” he asked wryly. “I think the fact that she didn’t attempt to continue our relationship tells you how much she appreciated my money.”
Mariah thoughtfully swiped a soapy sponge slowly over a saucer. “I don’t mean to pry, Finn. I’m just trying to understand why my sister put off contacting you about Harry. Could be she was worried about you getting custody—since you could provide more financial security for him. Far more than she ever could. But that doesn’t make much sense, either. Because she wasn’t afraid to put your name on the birth certificate.”
He moved a step closer and Mariah’s nerves twisted even tighter.
“I don’t think you ought to be worrying over Aimee’s motives anymore,” he said. “Harry’s future is the main issue now. And that brings us to the DNA test. Do you think we can get that taken care of tomorrow?”
Her throat went tight as she glanced over at him. “You’re not wanting to waste any time, are you?”
“Dallying around won’t tell us anything. And my job on the Horn is—well, pretty demanding. I need to get back there as soon as possible.”
“I suppose I can call the school and let them know I need to take a couple hours off in the morning. Long enough for us to go to the health department and get the samples taken,” she said guardedly. “That way you can go on back to Nevada. And receive the results in the mail.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
His instant retort had her dropping the sponge and squaring around to face him. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not about to leave here without Harry.”
The determination in his voice sent a chill slithering down her spine. “And what if you’re not his father? All that waiting will be wasted.”
His clear blue gaze traveled over her face in a way that made Mariah forget about breathing.
“Let me be the judge of that,” he said quietly.
Shoving a hand in her hair, she pushed it off her forehead, while silently yelling at her heart to slow down. Otherwise, she was going to faint right at his feet.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she said, “You must be feeling confident that Harry is your child.”
“I am. And deep down you believe I’m his father, too. Don’t you?”
Clamping her jaw tight, she was determined not to let him see her cry, to let him know that the thought of losing Harry was shattering her whole being.
Turning back to the sink full of dishes, she picked up the sponge and twisted it until soapy foam covered both hands. “I’ll believe what the DNA test says,” she said hoarsely. “Nothing less.”
She was fighting back tears when she felt him move behind her and place his hand on her shoulder.
Learning to Kill: Stories