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So. His daughter had a stubborn streak. Another trait they had in common. Charmed by the discovery, he had to fight very hard not to laugh.

* * *

Annabeth struggled to maintain her composure, while she noted Hunter was trying not to laugh. At her? Or the situation? Either way, he’d been in the room with Sarah for a total of five minutes and was already making promises. What happened to taking this one step at a time?

Worse yet, Sarah and Hunter were getting along rather well. Really well. Annabeth had counted on the opposite. At the very least, she’d expected this first meeting between father and daughter to be awkward.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Hunter had overcome his initial shock at seeing the child and was now conversing with her as though he spoke to children on a regular basis. Which made an odd sort of sense when she worked the notion through her mind. He was, after all, the eldest in a large family of brothers and sisters.

But that had been a long time ago. Ten years to be exact. Before he’d become an outlaw.

Except...

He didn’t look much like an outlaw now. His eyes exuded kindness as he spoke to Sarah, genuine interest, too. In fact, he looked very much like a loving father. And a man of integrity, both trustworthy and constant. He suddenly laughed at something Sarah said, a low, deep rumble of amusement, and Annabeth realized she’d missed a large portion of their conversation.

She forced herself to pay better attention.

“...and my newest, bestest friend is Molly Taylor Scott. She’s Sheriff Trey’s daughter. She’s teaching me how to turn my plain bonnets into pretty masterpieces.”

“Masterpieces?” Hunter turned the word into a question he lobbed in Annabeth’s direction. His mouth twitched slightly, presenting a momentary dimple in his cheek so fast she nearly missed it. The floor shifted beneath her feet for a brief, disorienting moment.

Focus, Annabeth.

“I had no idea bonnets could become masterpieces,” he added when she continued to stare at him, unresponsive and dumbfounded.

Unclamping her lips, she said, “You have no idea.”

His smile widened.

Oh, perfect. The man was incredibly charming and appealing when he smiled like that. All big and charming and muscular and handsome. And...and...
charming.

Annabeth strove to match her detachment of moments before. An impossible feat when she couldn’t take a decent breath.

She suddenly felt brittle, on the verge of breaking.

As if sensing the change in her, a shadow crossed over Hunter’s face, giving him a concerned expression. The face of a man Annabeth could see putting the people he loved first, protecting them and bearing their burdens at times.

What would that be like, she wondered, to know she was safe, always, never needing to fear the unknown? What would it be like to no longer worry about the future, or her reputation? To have someone stand by her side, no questions asked, a man who knew who—and what—her mother was but didn’t care? Who maybe enjoyed Mattie, accepted her, understood her even.

Shifting impatiently between them, Sarah tugged on Hunter’s arm. “Want to see one of my bonnets?”

“I would indeed.” The smooth amusement was back in his voice and Annabeth let go of some of her hostility toward the man. Sarah was so
happy.

“I’ll be right back.”

The child skipped out of the room, leaving Hunter to stare after her. For a brief moment, he didn’t bother hiding his expression. Shadows swirled in his gaze, dark and emotional, full of longing, hope and pain. So much pain.

Annabeth felt like an intruder, watching him this closely, and yet pulled toward him, too. The need to comfort stronger than the need to keep up her guard, she took a tiny step toward him, reached out and touched his arm. She didn’t expect to feel anything, but the impact was like a physical blow.

She quickly dropped her hand.

Seemingly unaware of her disturbing response to him, Hunter slowly turned his head in her direction. His face was paler than usual, his features taut and intense. “She’s really my daughter.”

Why deny the truth? “Yes.”

“I— She—” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and cleared his throat. “It’s...astonishing. She has my eyes.”

That had been the first thing Annabeth had noticed when she’d met Sarah a year ago.

“And my smile,” he said, wonder in his voice.

“She has your build, too.”

He nodded absently. “Tall and lanky, like all the Mitchells at her age, even the girls.”

He looked fierce and proud as he spoke, and completely unashamed of the joy spreading through him. But then his expression changed, bursting with other emotions. Determination, conviction. Unrelenting resolve.

Hunter Mitchell was going to claim Sarah as his daughter. Annabeth tried to follow all the threads to their logical conclusion, knowing the gesture was a waste of time. She’d already lost the niece she’d grown to love as her own child.

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

How would Annabeth ever survive without her niece?

Sarah was so sweet, so eager to please, so willing to accept a stranger in her life without question.

Annabeth sighed. It hurt to love this much.

Breaking her train of thought, Sarah darted back into the room, her hands overflowing with ribbons and pieces of silk, her smile full of excitement.

An identical expression spread across Hunter’s features.

Again, Annabeth felt like the intruder.

“Here it is, Mr. Mitchell, my latest creation.” Sarah hopped from one foot to the other. “Look, see, right here. And here. And here. I sewed all the ribbons on myself.”

“I’m thoroughly impressed.” The words were mild enough, but his eyes glistened with emotion, and not just any emotion. Love. The man was already bursting with love for his daughter.

His hand slightly shaking, he took the bonnet and examined the hat from every angle, showing the sort of care one would a fragile piece of china.

Sarah moved in closer, pressing against him as she pointed out various spots of interest.

The moment was full of quiet gravity. Father and daughter, together, united at last, with only one of them understanding the unique blessing they’d been given.

Never having known her own father, Annabeth could hardly look at the scene playing out in front of her. By all practical measures, it was too soon to tell if Hunter would make a good father. But deep in her heart, where pain and loss resided, Annabeth knew the fight was over before it had begun.

Hunter would take very good care of Sarah.

The back of Annabeth’s eyes stung and something painful lodged in her throat, sharp as a sliver. She was happy for her niece. So very happy. But she knew she wasn’t going to see Sarah grow up. Not on a daily basis.

“Aunt Annabeth?” Sarah’s face took on a look of deep concern, identical to the one Hunter shot her way. “Why are you crying?”

Unaware she’d allowed her emotions to get away from her, Annabeth lifted her hand to her cheek. And felt the wetness on her face.

Horrified, she glanced at Hunter, praying he didn’t notice. But just as he had last night, in Mattie’s private suite of rooms, he looked at her with kindness in his eyes. And understanding and maybe a little pity.

Oh, no.
Annabeth would not allow him to feel sorry for her. She would not feel sorry for herself, either. This reunion between father and daughter was a good thing, a dream come true. A blessing from God above.

Exasperated with herself, Annabeth let out a long-suffering sigh, turned her back on Hunter and focused on her niece. “I wasn’t crying, dear.” She laughed softly to make her point. But there was something broken in the sound so she rushed to fill the moment. “I simply had a piece of dust in my eye.”

Chapter Six

H
unter watched wordlessly as Annabeth swiped discreetly at her cheeks. The gesture was a valiant effort to erase all signs of emotion from her face, even if she didn’t succeed very well. At least she wasn’t trying to insinuate herself in his conversation with Sarah. He should feel triumphant over her lack of interference. Instead, he felt...

Guilty.

His gain was Annabeth’s loss. Somehow that didn’t seem fair, on any level.

How was it possible Maria’s younger sister had grown into a beautiful, compassionate woman—no longer a girl who’d once ignited his curiosity, but a woman—confident and intelligent and devoted to her niece? Hunter was starting to like her, on a personal level.

No good could come from that.

He splayed his fingers and pushed them through his hair, anything to prevent himself from doing something foolish. Such as pulling Annabeth in his arms and soothing away her sadness.

“Well,” Sarah said, chewing on her bottom lip, “if you’re sure you’re not upset...”

“I’m fine. Truly.”

Seemingly convinced, Sarah went back to pointing out various details on her bonnet for Hunter. “Notice how the different colored ribbons work together so nicely. My friend Molly says that’s because they have the same tone.”

Hunter didn’t know much about colors or ribbons or similar tones. “Isn’t that...interesting.”

“I know.” She chattered away on the subject, her young voice pitched two octaves higher than his own. She sounded similar to his younger sisters at that same age. He wondered if Sarah loved to sing as much as Fanny and Callie did.

So many details still to discover about his daughter, her likes and dislikes, her favorite color, her food preferences, whether she enjoyed playing indoors or out, or both. Things her aunt probably already knew about the girl.

His gaze sought Annabeth’s again. She smiled politely in his direction but didn’t quite make eye contact. It was as if she looked right through him.

He understood.

Wasn’t that the same expression he’d worn most of his adult life? On Annabeth, the look made her seem wounded and lonely.

They’d all suffered from Maria’s lies. Sarah, praise God, seemed to have made it through her young life unscathed. By all outward appearances, she was happy and well-adjusted. Hunter owed that blessing to Marc and Laney Dupree.

And Annabeth, too. He couldn’t forget her influence on his daughter. Sarah was a healthy, normal child because of the people in her life.

Hunter made a decision, then and there. The time for sorrow was over. There would be no more pain, no more anger, and definitely no more lies in any of their lives, only down-to-the-bone honesty from this moment forward.

He waited for the child to take a breath. “Sarah, I have something to tell you.”

“You do?” She looked up at him with mild curiosity in her eyes. “Is it a secret?”

“It is,” he confirmed, laughing at her excited gasp.

“Oh. I like secrets.”

“Most women do.”

She nodded sagely, her face a study in little girl seriousness. “That’s because we’re good at keeping them to ourselves.”

Not in Hunter’s experience. And definitely not the point. “Once I tell you this secret you don’t have to keep it to yourself. You can tell anyone you wish.”

“Oh.” The bonnet slipped from her fingers to the floor. She leaned over and picked it up again, her smile wavering. “I suppose that’s good, too.”

Sarah’s uncertain expression reminded Hunter of Maria. He waited for the anger to come, the frustration over not being able to confront his first wife about her deception. All he felt was regret for what might have been. No matter what Maria had done, or why, Sarah would never know her mother.

From this day forth she would know her father. “Sarah, I’m your fa—”

“Hunter
.

Annabeth cut him off, pushing past Sarah and settling in a spot directly between him and his daughter. “I’d like a word with you in private.”

He gave her a hard look. “Now?”

“Now.”

So much for not interfering.

“But, Aunt Annabeth.” Sarah scooted around her aunt and jammed her fists on her hips. “Mr. Mitchell was about to tell me a secret.”

“Yes, I know.” A slight hesitation. “And he still will.” A heavy sigh. “After I speak with him first.”

Clearly confused, Sarah looked from her aunt to Hunter and back again. “Can’t whatever you have to say to him wait?”

“No, dear, it can’t.”

“But—”

“No arguments.” Annabeth cut her off with a firm shake of her head, then smoothed a hand over the child’s hair in a gentle show of affection. “Mrs. Smythe is baking cookies in the kitchen. I’m sure she’d welcome your help.”

“Yes, that sounds like fun, but—”

Annabeth cut her off again. “Go help Mrs. Smythe,
now.

The command was spoken firmly and with unbending authority.

This time, Sarah clamped her mouth shut. With a mutinous twist to her lips, she cast a silent appeal in Hunter’s direction.

Knowing better than to get in the middle of a fray between the two females, he raised his hands in the universal show of surrender.

Sarah’s face fell.

He could hardly bear all that little-girl despair.

“I’ll be right here when you’re finished helping with the cookies.”

Her eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“All right.” Sighing, she headed toward the hallway.

It took every ounce of control not to call her back to him and dispel his daughter’s obvious dejection. Hunter had no idea what Annabeth had to say to him—or why she felt the need to do so now—but he wouldn’t undermine her authority in front of Sarah.

Once the child was out of earshot? Well, that was another matter entirely.

* * *

Annabeth waited for Sarah to slink out of the room, grumbling all the way. Only after the girl was too far away to overhear their conversation did she turn to face Hunter directly.

He didn’t look any happier about the interruption than his daughter. Less so, actually. But where Sarah had set out to argue with her, Hunter simply held Annabeth’s gaze, still as a stone, quiet, severe, his lips flattened in a grim line.

This
was the man who’d faced down some of the most ruthless outlaws in the country, and won.

No matter.

She could not—would not—allow herself to be intimidated by Hunter Mitchell in his big, bad gunslinger stance. There was something far more important going on here, something that went beyond the happy reunion of a father and his daughter after years of unnecessary separation.

Poignant, to be sure, but this was no fairy tale playing out, where everyone got exactly what they wanted and they all lived happily-ever-after. This was real life, where secrets had been kept for nine long years. A child’s future was at stake, her well-being, too,
and
her safety. Emotion must not rule the moment.

There was a beat of silence, weighing heavy and thick in the air between them.

And then another.

And one more.

Finally, Hunter spoke. “You better have a good explanation for interrupting me.”

Even his tone had changed, becoming hard, more pointed and direct, the voice of a man used to others bending to his will.

Annabeth refused to flinch.

She did, however, need a moment to gather her thoughts.

Pushing past him, she went to stare out the window. Poised on the razor-thin edge of panic, she hardly noticed the children at play.
Stay calm, Annabeth. You have an important point to make.

And now she was stalling.

She turned back around. “You were about to reveal who you are to Sarah.”

“The timing was right.”

Perhaps. Perhaps not. “You don’t know that for sure. You’ve known her for what? All of ten minutes?”

“The truth has been withheld from her for far too long.” A pause, an accusatory look, reminding her she’d played a part in the duplicity for an entire year. “I won’t begin my relationship with my daughter based on a lie. The deception ends today.”

His point hit home. Yet Annabeth couldn’t find it in her to agree with him, not openly. Until recently, he’d been serving a two-year prison sentence for killing a man. How could she have known he would return to Denver ready to start anew?

How could she be sure now? “I stand by my decision to withhold your identity from her.”

He gave her a long look.

“There was no evidence you would step up and take on the responsibility of raising your daughter.”

And Annabeth was getting tired of defending herself. She’d acted on the reasonable assumption that he wouldn’t want to be a father to Sarah. “Most of the Charity House children have indifferent parents.”

“And, yet, here I am, attempting to do the right thing by my daughter.” He fixed his amber gaze on her face and, with the ease of man comfortable in his own skin, paced toward her. He moved slowly, with efficient, purposeful strides.

Annabeth remained perfectly still. Perfectly. Still.

Another two steps and the distance between them was a mere foot. Up close, she could see the various hues of gold in his eyes. She could also see his frustration.

Well, she was frustrated, too.

So, no, she wasn’t going to buckle under all that masculine intensity bearing down on her.

“I mean to be a good father to Sarah.” His chest heaved in an unsteady rhythm and his voice sounded raw, emotional, but also determined. “I have changed, Annabeth.”

Although he spoke very deliberately, with his jaw tight, it wasn’t hostility she saw in his eyes but some sort of murky promise, something that went beyond words, something personal and solely between them.

“Hunter.” She sucked in a hard breath. “I don’t think—”

“Stop, Annabeth. Stop arguing with me and let me finish.” With a move so swift she didn’t see it coming, he took hold of her hand.

His touch was so foreign and yet somehow comforting, familiar even.

He rubbed the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. Warmth spread up her arm.

“I’m not going to hurt Sarah.” He moved closer, too close, and in a voice pitched to a deep, husky note, added, “Or you.”

She snatched her hand free, her fingers curling into a fist. “Words, Hunter. Those are just words.”

“Then here are some more words for you to consider. No matter your motivation, I won’t let you stand between my daughter and me.”

No, he wouldn’t. She’d been foolish to think otherwise. She’d known this was how it would end. She’d
known.
Hunter would take Sarah away with him now. And there was nothing Annabeth could do to stop him.

Heart beating madly against her ribs, she stared up at him, teeth ground together, angry and frustrated and...afraid. Not of him, but of what he’d come here to do.

“You’re Sarah’s aunt.” Everything in him softened, as if he actually understood and valued the sacrifices she’d made over the past year. “I don’t know what happens next, but we’ll figure it out. Together. For Sarah’s sake.”

So, he was going to be reasonable and fair-minded, putting his daughter’s needs above his own. Annabeth would have preferred a fight.

Battling another round of tears, she turned her head away. “I’ll get Sarah now.” She took a large step to her right, creating some much-needed distance from the man who was breaking her heart in ways she couldn’t explain fully. “I know she’ll want to hear what you have to tell her.”

There was a brief pause, brimming with the same charged emotions as before. Then he nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Resigned, she turned on her heel.

“Annabeth?”

She stopped, waited for the rest, but didn’t turn around.

“I won’t let you down.”

Another promise, one she could tell he intended to keep. She flattened a hand over her heart and heaved a sigh. “Just don’t let
her
down.”

She found her niece in the kitchen, rolling dough under Mrs. Smythe’s attentive tutelage. The older woman was smiling as she gave her instructions. Short, round and gregarious, the housekeeper had tucked her iron-gray hair in an ordinary bun at the nape of her neck. There was nothing ordinary about her, though. Mrs. Smythe loved life. She was always cheerful, always smiling.

Even now, her bright blue eyes sparkled with good humor as she explained the basic steps for making her
world-famous
cookies.

“Aunt Annabeth.” Sarah squealed her name in childish glee. “Look at me. I’m making cookies all by myself.”

“I see that.” Annabeth’s heart kicked fast and hard, her breath catching in her throat. How she loved this child. So very much. “Sarah, your fa—”

She swallowed the rest of her words, blinking hard at the mistake she’d nearly made. “That is...Mr. Mitchell wants to speak with you again.”

Sarah beamed up at Mrs. Smythe. “He’s the one I told you about. Mr. Logan’s brother.” She leaned in close. “He’s going to tell me a secret.”

“Well, then.” The housekeeper shared a quick look with Annabeth then took the rolling pin from Sarah and set it on the counter. “You better get on in there.”

Sarah hurried around the table, practically tripping over her own two feet in her haste. She sped past Annabeth then stopped cold two steps later. “Aren’t you coming?”

Torn between holding on to her niece a while longer, and allowing Hunter a moment alone with his daughter, Annabeth chose the middle ground. “In a minute.”

“All right.” Sarah charged down the hallway.

As the sound of her footsteps grew ever more distant, doubt reared. What if Sarah didn’t react well to the news that Hunter was her father?

Annabeth set out toward the parlor.

“Stop right there.”

She froze, took a deep breath then slowly turned back around to face Mrs. Smythe.

The older woman rested her hands on her hips, paying no heed to the flour she was getting on her clothing. “You want to tell me what’s going on with that child and Hunter Mitchell?”

“He’s Sarah’s father.”

“Her father?” Mrs. Smythe’s mouth fell open. “Well, now, isn’t that something.” Understanding flashed in the other woman’s eyes, a look that said puzzle pieces were fitting together in her mind. “I always did like that boy.”

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