Renee Ryan (17 page)

He swallowed. “Now, Annabeth.” He swallowed again. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret later.”

Eyes glittering, she placed both palms on his shoulders. “Who says I’ll have regrets later?”

“I do.” He grabbed for her hands, but she was too quick, lightning fast.

Next thing he knew, her fingers were linked together behind his neck.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

Mattie, for her part, sputtered and threatened and warned her rebellious, headstrong daughter to think her actions through to the end.

Ignoring the sound maternal advice, Annabeth’s smile widened.

He couldn’t help it. He smiled right back, with a big toothy grin of his own.

“Congratulate us, Mother.”

Hunter froze. “Congratulate us on...what?”

“We’re getting married.”

Married? Had Annabeth just told him they were getting
married?
He attempted to pry her hands away from his neck, he couldn’t think with her so close. But then she lifted on her toes and went in for the kill. She pressed her lips firmly to his and held on tight.

Time stopped.

His breathing stalled in his chest.

His stomach performed a fast, painful roll.

Coherent thought failed him.

No matter how good the woman felt in his arms, this was wrong.
Wrong.

He tried to do the right thing. He really tried.

Hadn’t he only seconds before promised Mattie he wouldn’t hurt Annabeth? If this really exceptional kiss continued much longer, something was going to end up broken.

Like his head.

Or her heart.

Unacceptable.

He had to remember that Mattie was still in the room, clawing at his arms and yelling at him to let go of her daughter. She spoke so loudly and with such rage that surely someone—everyone—in the brothel could hear her.

That returned him to his senses at last.

He jerked his head back, took a deep breath and gently set Annabeth away from him.

She looked up at him with a self-satisfied grin. How had he allowed matters to get so out of hand?

“What do you say, Hunter? Want to get married?”

Yes. No.
“No.”

Chapter Seventeen

A
nnabeth tried unsuccessfully to ignore the rapid beating of her heart. Frustrated with herself, she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just done. She’d proposed to Hunter Mitchell. Proposed! In a brothel, of all places.

With her mother present.

And he’d said...
no.

Not “Yes, please, it would be a dream come true to marry you, Annabeth.” Not “What a splendid idea. You read my mind.” But an emphatic, unequivocal, resounding
no.

Her pulse picked up speed and she burned hot with the force of her shame.

She knew she only had herself to blame for this moment of complete humiliation. Hunter had warned her. He’d made it perfectly clear he would never marry again.

Had Annabeth listened? No.

Oh, no. She’d allowed her frustration with her mother to lay siege on her good sense. She’d let her pride rule her actions, calling Mattie’s bluff with one of her own.

Scripture taught against such behavior.
Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.

Holding back a sob, Annabeth pressed her lips tightly together. For a few more thrashing heartbeats, she remained silent, trying her best to discern Hunter’s mood. But no matter how long she looked, she couldn’t read any emotion on his face. His unmoving stance gave nothing away, either. Even that benign lift of his lips couldn’t quite pass for a smile.

“You have made your point, Annabeth.” Mattie looked thoroughly disappointed in her. Well, she was disappointed in herself. But at least her mother wasn’t attempting to shove her out of her brothel—
or her life
—anymore.

A victory, to be sure, but a hollow one at best. Annabeth sighed. Truly, could there be anything more painful than unrequited love? Anything more mortifying than a man simply staring at her in stunned silence?

She sighed again.

“Step away from her, Hunter.” Mattie made a shooing motion with her hands. “Let’s everyone sit down and discuss the future like calm, rational adults.”

A damaged, almost jagged sound rumbled from Hunter’s throat. “Look around, Mattie. Do you see any calm, rational adults in this room?”

“At the moment, no. I do not. But that doesn’t mean one of us can’t try a little harder. And when I say one of us, I mean you.” She wagged her finger at Annabeth. “No daughter of mine—”

She abruptly stopped talking. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Annabeth and Hunter asked in tandem.

“Footsteps.”

A shadow moved at the foot of the door leading into the hallway. Someone was outside, evidently listening to their conversation.

A sense of foreboding filled her. “Mother—”

Mattie shook her head, pressed a finger to her lips then, with a hard yank, threw open the door.

“Oh.”
One of Mattie’s “girls” tumbled forward, landing with a thud in a heap of skirts and incoherent sputtering.

Annabeth stifled a shiver. Though she’d never met the woman, she recognized her. Her name was Camille. She had a ten-year-old daughter living at Charity House, a girl Sarah considered one of her dear friends.

Twisting around, Camille managed to sit up after several attempts. She brushed limp red curls off her face, craned her neck and then stared straight at Annabeth. Her dark eyes were filled with something that looked like cunning.

Annabeth might have turned away from that calculating gaze but that would have branded her a coward, or worse, a woman with something to hide. She forced a smile on her face. “Hello.”

Mattie was not so welcoming. “What are you doing listening at my door, Camille?”

Guilt flashed in the woman’s eyes. Another wave of foreboding sliced through Annabeth.

“I wasn’t listening,” Camille stammered. “I was...just about to knock. But you...you...opened the door before I could.”

She was lying. Annabeth knew all the signs. The darting gaze, the rapidly blinking eyes, the quick swallows.

Precisely how long had Camille been in the hallway listening to their conversation?

“Get up off the floor this instant,” Mattie ordered.

Camille hurried to her feet, her gaze sweeping around the room. As she smoothed her skirt in place her eyes came to rest on Hunter. A brief smile and then she looked meaningfully from him to Annabeth to Mattie and back to Hunter again.

“What do you want, Camille?” Mattie let out a hiss that spelled doom for the woman. “And I’d advise you to think hard before you answer the question.”

“I was...going to request an advance on my...” She eyed Annabeth again, this time looking as if puzzle pieces were fitting together in her mind. “I know you.”

“No, we have never met.” That was certainly true.

“I
do
know you. You’re...yes, you’re that teacher at Charity House.”

“That’s right.” Annabeth sucked in a calming breath. “Your daughter is in my class.”

Camille nodded, then flicked her gaze down to her toes and back up again. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t say.”

“Smith,” Hunter said for her, stepping forward and commanding Camille’s full attention with his large presence. “Her name is Miss Annabeth Smith.”

He did not introduce himself, or engage Camille in further conversation. But he did reposition himself so that he was slightly in front of Annabeth now, all but shielding her with his broad shoulders and muscular chest.

“Annabeth...Smith.” A pause. “Right. Of course.”

She knew, Annabeth thought again. Camille knew she was Mattie’s daughter. And from the woman’s devious smile, their secret would be all over town by nightfall.

The whispers would follow, subtle at first, then growing bolder, turning vicious, until Annabeth was shunned from every good home in town. Before she could dwell on the terrible possibility, Mattie took charge.

She ushered Camille toward the exit with a considerable lack of finesse. “Yes, well. As you can see, Camille, I am in a private meeting with two old friends.” She lowered her voice to an angry murmur. “I will deal with you later.”

It was no empty threat.

Still, Camille dug in her heels and opened her mouth to argue. Mattie pushed her over the threshold and shut the door in her face.

For several seconds the entire room went silent.

Dead silent.

Annabeth’s vision blurred. Her head hurt. Her stomach roiled. All this time, she’d fooled herself into thinking her connection to Mattie would remain a secret forever. The illusion was over. The little white lies had been for naught.

The truth shall set you free.

She didn’t feel free. She felt trapped, exposed and hot with shame. So very hot. A panic-stricken breath whooshed out of her. This awful feeling, this despair,
this
was what came from telling lies.

She could do nothing now, nothing but inhale slowly, and then exhale. Inhale, exhale. Finally, she found her voice. “She knows I’m your daughter.”

It had to be said, had to be addressed head-on.

At least Mattie didn’t try to soften the blow with more lies. “Yes, dear, I’m afraid she does.”

“That’s not to say all is lost,” Hunter said as he moved to Annabeth’s side.

Smiling tenderly into her eyes, he rubbed his hands down her arms in a show of comfort. His gentleness splintered her thoughts, turning her a bit stupid but also a little less desperate.

He was a conundrum, this man. One moment he was rejecting her marriage proposal, the next, he was making her panic dissolve into something far less ugly and much more manageable.

“I have changed my mind,” he said with soft steel, his voice determined but not unkind.

“I’m sorry. I...” Annabeth shook her head. “You’ve changed your mind about what?”

He held her gaze. Calm, unwavering, so sure of himself. But Annabeth saw the lines around his mouth, the ones that told her he wasn’t as relaxed as he was putting on.

“Yes, Annabeth.” Taking both her hands in his, he pulled her forward and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I will marry you.”

“You’ll—” she felt her heart squeeze
“—what?”

“I will marry you,” he repeated.

“You will?” This was what she’d wanted. But something was wrong. Where were the love words? He wasn’t saying them because he didn’t love her.

Her stomach did a slow, agonizing roll. Hunter wasn’t supposed to be this calm, this steady, this everything when her dreams were shattering at her feet. “Why do you want to marry me?”

“He’s being noble, that’s why. Misguided fool.” Mattie nudged him back a step with her hip.

“I am sincere.” He spoke the words to Annabeth.

Mattie scoffed. “Come now, Hunter.” She nudged him again. “We both know what this is and what this isn’t.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was her mother speaking in some sort of code? Annabeth cocked her head in confusion. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

“It’s not that complicated, Annabeth.” Mattie pursed her lips. “Hunter thinks that by giving you the Mitchell name he will be able to soften the disgrace you must suffer because of your connection with me.”

Oh.
Oh.

“Is that true?” She looked at him for confirmation.

He didn’t deny Mattie’s accusation. Instead, he took her hands again. “Marry me, Annabeth.” He punctuated the proposal with a smile. “Allow me to give you the protection of my name.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. She wanted to cover her ears. She wanted to run. But her mother was right. Hunter—the misguided, noble, decent man—wanted to marry her in order to shield her from scandal.

Surely that meant he cared for her, if only a little.

Was it enough? Could she marry him knowing he didn’t love her in the same way she loved him?

No.

Yes.

Yes, she could. Because she wasn’t ready to give up on him, or them, not yet. What better way to win his heart than by living with him, day in and day out, as his wife?

She opened her mouth to tell him yes, she would marry him, but Mattie wasn’t finished mounting her protest. “You should understand, Hunter.” She physically pulled him away from Annabeth. “That by marrying my daughter you will also be gaining me as your mother-in-law.”

He laughed. “I’m well aware.”

“Are you, now?” She jammed her hands on her hips. “Then you should also be aware that I shall have no compunction in hurting the man who hurts my Annabeth.”

Annabeth gasped.

Hunter simply walked over to Mattie and took her hands in the same tender hold he’d used with Annabeth. “Message received, my friend. And for the record, I would be honored to have you as my mother-in-law.”

He looked sincere.

He sounded sincere.

He
was
sincere.

Annabeth just had to...stare. He was such a good man. She didn’t want him to marry her out of obligation. She wanted him to marry her because he loved her.

“You do realize,” Mattie began, her whole demeanor softening, “that my objection to you marrying Annabeth isn’t personal.”

Annabeth suppressed a groan at her audacious mother. No one could ever accuse Mattie Silks of refusing to speak her mind.

“Of course it’s personal,” Hunter said, laughing again, this time in genuine amusement. “Can’t say I blame you, all things considered.”

“Now don’t misunderstand.” Mattie patted him on the cheek. “I firmly believe you will make some woman a fine husband one day.”

“Just not your daughter.”

“Well, yes.” Remorse flashed across Mattie’s face. “Just not Annabeth.”

“You do realize my family’s reputation is one of the best in the state.”

“Yes,” Mattie agreed. “But what of
your
reputation?”

“Stop fretting, my friend.” Hunter yanked Mattie into a hug, sufficiently cutting off further protest. “If Annabeth agrees to marry me, she will be allowed to change her mind at any point and return to Denver, or wherever she wishes to go.”

“That’s not an acceptable solution.” Mattie shoved away from him. “Divorce is no less scandalous than having a mother like me.”

“I was referring to an annulment. Our marriage will be in name only.”

What?
What?
“Now wait just a minute.” Annabeth stepped into Hunter’s line of vision and put on her best scowl. “I never said anything about a marriage in name only.”

He set her out of his way. “Not now, Annabeth.”

“Yes, now.” She scrambled back around him. “This is a most important detail that cannot be glossed over just to appease my mother.”

“Please, just...hold on a minute.” His unspoken message was clear.
I can only deal with one riled-up female at a time.

Ignoring her completely now, he guided Mattie into a chair and smiled down at her. There was such warmth in his gaze that Annabeth relented.

Hunter cared about Mattie. He really did.

Crouching in front of her, he began a quiet, heartfelt conversation just between the two of them. He spoke of honor and duty first, then turned to the importance of family. When he reintroduced the idea of Mattie joining them on the ranch, she didn’t balk this time. She simply listened.

Hunter had her full attention, all because he looked past her sin and straight to the person underneath. Annabeth was humbled by his approach. Even when he talked about second chances and the freedom in Christ he didn’t sound like a preacher. He sounded reasonable, heartfelt and believable.

Annabeth had to look away. She did not look at Hunter again. She couldn’t. Because if she did, she would have to accept that her feelings for him weren’t reciprocated, and might never be.

If she married Hunter, she would be doing so for all the right reasons, while he would be marrying her for all the wrong ones.

She shook her head, trying desperately to focus on anything but the despair growing in her heart. But then she thought of Sarah. If Annabeth married Hunter, Sarah would have both a mother and a father in her home. That mattered, far more than her own impractical dream of happily-ever-after.

“...and that’s the end of it, Mattie.”

“Oh, Hunter, my dear, dear boy.” Mattie slapped him playfully on the arm. “That remains to be seen.”