A gnawing ache twisted in his stomach. Hunter had never had that sort of connection with a woman, not even with Jane. He’d loved his wife, had wanted to provide for her and protect her, but had always felt slightly out of step with her. She’d been too good, too sweet, too...godly. Hunter had been destined to fail her.
As he’d failed everyone else in his life.
The past, he reminded himself, all of that was in the past. His hand automatically patted the Bible in his pocket and his thoughts settled. He was a new creation now, starting life with a clean slate. Perhaps he could still achieve some peace, maybe even happiness.
At the bottom of the stairs, Marc pushed slightly ahead of the woman on his arm and made the introductions. “Hunter Mitchell, this is my wife, Laney Dupree.”
“Mrs. Dupree.” Hunter removed his hat and nodded in the woman’s direction. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Such formality. Call me Laney.” She offered him her hand, her gaze running across his face before her brows pulled into a thoughtful expression. “It’s a little startling, you know, how much you favor Logan.”
“I assure you.” He swallowed back a snort. “Aside from looks, I’m nothing like my brother.”
Her eyes widened at his bluntness. Then she smiled at him, a lovely, brilliant slash of straight white teeth. “I think,” she said, gazing at him as if she could see directly into his soul, “you’re more like him than you realize.”
Hunter didn’t know what to say to that. She was so completely wrong.
His mouth worked but nothing came out.
“Sarah hasn’t stopped talking about you,” Laney continued, taking pity on him perhaps. “She’ll be sorry she missed you.”
Speaking of Sarah...
He looked around. “Where is she?”
“She ran over to Trey and Katherine Scott’s home to spend the morning with their daughter, Molly.” Laney gave a little flick of her wrist at a house across the street then laughed softly. “You do realize, Hunter, how completely you have won over your daughter.”
“I’d say it was the other way around. Sarah is a beautiful child. I couldn’t be more proud.” A wave of affection and gratitude filled him. “You and your husband have done an exceptional job raising her.”
Laney blinked up at him. “What a lovely thing to say.”
“It’s the simple truth. You willingly took Sarah into your home when she was but an infant.” He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead and the back of his throat felt like sandpaper. “I can never repay you for your kindness.”
But he would try. Somehow, he would find a way to compensate this couple for their generosity toward his daughter.
Clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Laney shifted from one foot to another. Did no one thank her for the services she and her husband provided here at Charity House?
Marc patted his wife’s back then spoke for them both. “Like I said yesterday, Hunter, your gratitude is all the payment we need.”
Hunter disagreed. He’d spent too many years skirting duty and responsibility. Although that behavior had ended the day he’d turned himself in, he still had a long way to go to make up for his past.
Some errors couldn’t be erased with good intentions or well-meaning prayer. Sometimes consequences stuck.
Annabeth shifted beside him, drawing his attention from his emotionally charged thoughts. He looked down at her.
She looked as if she wanted to say something, but held her tongue. Not finished having his say, Hunter took Laney’s hand in a gesture of friendship. “Thank you for taking care of Sarah all these years.” He included Marc with a sweep of his gaze. “I’m forever in your debt.”
The couple shared a look. A thousand words passed between them, as if they were having a silent discussion only they understood. Eventually, Laney nodded to her husband.
Marc turned to Hunter. “Sarah is fortunate she has you. We’ll work with you to make sure the transition from our home to yours goes smoothly.”
Knowing that Marc and Laney were on his side humbled him beyond words. The back of his eyes stung. Not that he let his ragged emotions show on his face. He kept them carefully contained.
The mood turned light, casual even, as if they were four old friends catching up after a short separation. When a comfortable lull settled over the conversation, Hunter turned to Annabeth. “Ready to head to the restaurant?”
She nodded.
He offered her his arm. After a brief hesitation, she wrapped both hands around his biceps then smiled up at him.
His gut squeezed.
And he realized just how much he liked this woman. Liked her a lot. Too much, perhaps.
A new tension coiled through his ribs, settling in his chest. He didn’t want to hurt Annabeth. He wanted to keep her safe, to cherish her, to be the man she most deserved. A desperate wish on his part, born of a hope not yet realized.
Bringing Annabeth into his life was probably a bad idea. The very worst. He was going to do it, anyway. For Sarah’s sake. As for what he wanted?
Hunter dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter what he wanted. It couldn’t. He had a daughter to consider now.
Chapter Nine
Heart in her throat, her mind battling a thousand thoughts at once, Annabeth watched Hunter walk around to his side of the open-air carriage. She thought she’d learned to be levelheaded since leaving Boston. Hadn’t she tried to view the world with cold, hard reason? To set aside her childish fantasies of happily-ever-after?
Yet every thought that tumbled through her head was unrestrained, full of rekindled hopes and forgotten dreams. All because Hunter had thanked Laney and Marc Dupree for taking care of his daughter through the years.
How was Annabeth supposed to remain unaffected?
Not many men received a second chance in life, even fewer recognized the blessing they’d been given. Hunter was a man like none she’d ever met. Any more insights into his character and she might do something foolish, like fall in love him.
No, no, no.
Eyes holding hers a moment too long, he climbed into the carriage and shut the door behind him with a soft click. They were alone. Just the two of them. His leg nearly touching her skirt.
He was so close she could smell his fresh clean scent, a little woodsy, like a summer afternoon in the high country.
She sighed. Looked away.
He chuckled softly.
A flick of the reins and they were off. He had such masculine hands, she noted out of the corner of her eye, strong and capable, tanned from the sun and a little battered from work.
Under normal circumstances, riding alone with a man like Hunter would be considered highly improper for a woman like her. Well, not highly improper, but skirting the edges of respectability. Annabeth was in the singular company of a notorious gunslinger, without the benefit of a chaperone. One false move on either of their parts and her reputation might suffer a decided hit.
To his credit, Hunter had thought ahead. He’d chosen an open carriage for their short ride into town. There would be no cause for whispers, nothing to warrant speculation, other than the fact that Annabeth was fortunate enough to be riding alongside the most handsome man in the territory.
One who’d recently served a two-year prison sentence for killing a man. She’d craved respectability for too many years not to pause over that. Except...
There was so much more to Hunter than his recent incarceration. Despite evidence to the contrary, he was no outlaw. He was thoughtful, considerate and whenever Annabeth was in his company she felt cherished and special, as though she mattered. For herself.
Careful, careful, her heart warned.
As if sensing her watching him, a tiny smile danced at the corners of his mouth, playful and more than a little roguish. For a frightening moment Annabeth was sure her heart would stop beating altogether.
His smile widened and she felt a shift in her stomach.
“Hungry?” he asked, his v
oice full of casual familiarity. He was close enough that she could feel the heat he gave off, and the restless energy he exuded.
Oh, the pull this man had on her. She prayed it didn’t show on her face. “Not particularly, no.”
He let an arched eyebrow speak for him.
“Well, if you must know...” She folded her hands together in her lap. “I’m too preoccupied to think about food right now.”
“Preoccupied?” He dragged out the word in his low, masculine drawl. “With...?”
“With trying to figure out what makes you, well—” she lifted a shoulder “—you.”
“What makes me, me?” He laughed at that. The sound came out a bit rusty, as if he wasn’t used to giving in to his amusement. And, glory, if his eyes didn’t crinkle at the edges.
“I’m not overly complicated, Annabeth.”
“I beg to differ. You’re a complete mystery to me. I find myself quite confounded whenever I’m in your company.”
He laughed again and her stomach tumbled to her toes. She couldn’t decide what compelled her more, her attraction to him or her desire to see him happy like this all the time.
She was in trouble. Big, bad trouble. And her rebellious heart reveled in the knowledge.
Slowly, his laughter died away. His smile faded next and he returned his attention to the road. Because she was watching him so closely, she saw the exact moment he completely pulled away from her. Not physically, but mentally.
The silence stretching between them was broken only by the creak of the carriage wheels over the dry dirt road.
Annabeth wanted to shout in frustration. Instead, she inhaled slowly and steered the conversation into the one area she’d resisted introducing out of fear Hunter would shut her out. Since he’d already done so...
“Was it terrible?” she asked. “Your time in prison, I mean.”
A muscle knotted in his jaw. He looked so solemn, so intense. She immediately regretted asking the question.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” She rubbed her hands over one another, again and again and again. “Forget I asked.”
He nodded.
She thought that was the end of it, and was glad, but then he cleared his throat and said, “My time in prison was strictly controlled, every minute well-ordered and regimented by someone else. I worked when I was told to work, went to bed when I was told to sleep, and ate my meals when I was told to eat.”
His words were so cold, so unemotional, so unhelpful in giving her a clear picture of his life in prison. Except, after a moment of quiet contemplation, Annabeth realized his explanation was all the more telling because of its vague nature. “So it was terrible.”
He lifted a careless shoulder, his gaze firmly fixed on the road. “It was what it was.”
She hated the raw emotion she heard in his voice, aching for him on a whole new level.
“I’m sorry, Hunter.” The words seemed so inadequate.
He shook his head. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Annabeth. I deserved every moment I spent in prison.”
“No.” She gripped his arm, held on tight. “I don’t believe that. You were given too harsh a sentence.”
He laughed again. This time, the sound held no amusement at all. “Don’t make me out to be someone I’m not. I’ve always been a hard man by nature. And I never—”
“No. Hunter, no. Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. I saw you with Sarah yesterday, the care you took with her, the patience. Whoever you were before, whoever you thought you were before, you aren’t that man. You are kind and good and—”
“Don’t romanticize me or what I’ve been through.” He swung his gaze to meet hers, held steady a moment longer than necessary. “I went to prison because I killed a man.”
He’d killed in self-defense. Even if the jury hadn’t agreed, Annabeth knew the truth in her heart. She needed him to know she believed in him, even if he didn’t believe in himself. “You might have entered my mother’s brothel with vengeance in mind, but you didn’t go through with it.”
Everything in him went still, even his breathing stalled in his throat. “What makes you think I didn’t go through with it?”
“Because I know you. I know who you are under that hard exterior you’ve wrapped around you like a piece of armor.”
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know everything that matters.”
His eyes narrowed to two mean, ruthless slits. It was a terrifying look.
And completely wasted on her.
She jerked her chin at him. “I’m not scared of you.”
And wasn’t that the problem she was having with the man? This former convict should strike fear in her heart. Yet she found herself drawn to him, as a woman was drawn to a man.
“You should be scared of me.” He looked down on her from his superior height. “I’ve done terrible things in my life.”
He didn’t look mean now, or frightening, or even hard of heart. He looked bereft, sick to his soul. “Oh, Hunter.” She paused, commanding his gaze with a quiet intensity of her own. “You are more than your past mistakes.”
He blinked at her.
“I’m right, you know.”
He blinked again.
She leaned forward, until their breathing joined into one perfect rhythm. “You’re a decent man who will make a fine father to my niece.”
The muscles in his neck tensed, and he slowly looked away, pulled away. From her. “What if you’re wrong about me?”
“I’m not.”
His mouth twisted at the corners. The gesture made him look more confused than angry. Clearly he wasn’t used to people believing in him. The thought made the backs of her eyes sting.
“You seem overly confident in your assessment of my character.” She heard the bewilderment in his voice. “Why?”
“Because you’re determined to step up and do right by your daughter. That alone tells me what I need to know about the condition of your heart.”
When he said nothing, she continued, feeling bolder. “The Lord has forgiven you, Hunter. It’s time you forgave yourself.”
He pulled on the reins and they stopped abruptly. Too abruptly. Annabeth had to place her palms on either side of her to avoid careening headfirst to the floorboard.
“Easy now.” He reached out to steady her.
She smiled up at him.
He smiled back, carefully, maybe even reluctantly.
“Annabeth.” He made her name sound like an apology.
“Oh, Hunter.” She placed her hand over his. Warmth spread up her arm.
Slowly, their smiles faded, first his, then hers. There was nothing left but the staring. And a whole lot of emotion.
The gravity of the moment danced a shiver up her spine.
There was something exciting about this man’s masculine good looks, a powerful vibrancy that was all his. The tilt of his head, the slash of his cheekbones, the haunting sorrow lurking in the depths of his eyes called to the part of her she kept ruthlessly locked away.
She was not passionate by nature. She wanted a staid, comfortable life with a staid, comfortable man by her side. She wanted safe, easy, not...messy.
She was supposed to be immune to men like Hunter. She wasn’t supposed to like him. And she definitely wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him. But she was.
Apparently, some things just couldn’t be helped.
* * *
Hunter kept his hand on Annabeth’s arm a shade past polite. Caught in her gaze, stunned by the words that had passed between them, he couldn’t seem to move. Did she really believe he was more than his mistakes?
No.
She didn’t understand what she was saying. She didn’t understand who he was, who he really was, at the very core of his being. He’d done bad things and hurt a lot of people. He would never outrun his past.
That didn’t mean he hadn’t tried and would continue trying.
He’d already spent a lot of time reading the Bible
over the past two years. It was only in recent months that Hunter had learned to turn to God first, rather than rely on his own wisdom. Hard, physical labor had taught him restraint and he thought he’d conquered the worst of his selfish desires.
But no.
Case in point, he was still holding on to Annabeth, in a very inappropriate manner, with a host of unsuitable thoughts battling his resolve.
She was so beautiful, with such a giving nature. He wanted to kiss her. She deserved better than to be pawed at by him. Whatever softness might have been in him once had been destroyed in prison.
That didn’t mean he didn’t like touching her, holding her, feeling her muscles bunch beneath his palm. He also liked her scent, a soft floral mixture of lavender and honey. So calming, this woman beside him. And despite his best efforts to remain unmoved, a sense of homecoming washed over him.
He leaned forward, not sure why. Well, yes, he knew why. He wanted to be close to her. Just...a little...closer.
Her eyes widened with...
Was that fear?
No, something far, far worse. Encouragement.
He stopped his pursuit.
Eyes still locked with his, she thanked him for his assistance, her voice rich and throaty, then added, “I believe I have caught my balance now.”
“Right.” He slowly lifted his hand, palm facing her in the universal show of surrender. It was a highly vulnerable position for a man with his outlaw history.
Looking everywhere but at Annabeth, he alighted from the carriage in a rush of movement. Out of habit, he circled his gaze around the surrounding area, looking for trouble. As was becoming the custom, he found none. Horse-drawn carriages trotted past. Vendors hocked their wares. Men and women hustled about their business, some herding their children beside them. An idyllic scene, to be sure, one that spoke of a modern-day city coming into its own.
He drew in a lungful of pine-scented air and turned back to assist Annabeth’s exit from the carriage. He wrapped his hands around her waist. She placed her palms on his shoulders for support.
Time slowed, then...
He swung her into the air.
The moment her feet touched the ground she stepped back. He dropped his hands and balled them into loose fists.
Renee Ryan Page 10