She was waiting for her father, clearly, and as each moment ticked by, with no sign of Hunter, something akin to fear replaced her excitement.
Annabeth realized too late she’d made a serious error in judgment. She shouldn’t have told Sarah about Hunter’s visit, not until she’d been certain what time he would show.
How she knew what poor Sarah was feeling. How many times had she herself waited for her own father to show up at Mattie’s brothel? One short visit, that’s all Annabeth had ever wanted. A visit that never came.
Understanding her niece’s disappointment, more than she cared to admit, Annabeth inched next to her. “He said he was going to come,” she whispered. “He’ll come.”
Sarah’s mouth twisted into a stubborn line. “I don’t care if he does or not.”
Of course she cared.
“Relax, darling. He’ll be here soon.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Despite her bold words, Sarah drew in a shuddering breath and looked toward the entrance once again. A sigh leaked out of her.
Resisting the urge to follow her niece’s gaze, Annabeth thought through her options and decided distraction was her best course of action. She picked up a thin white ribbon with light blue polka dots and ran it along the rim of a bonnet. “This might work here. The hues definitely match and they fit so well here, where they—”
“It’s ugly.” Sarah shoved Annabeth’s hand away. “The whole bonnet is ugly. And I hate blue.”
Annabeth prayed for patience. “But, Sarah, blue is your favorite color.”
“Not anymore.”
The tension in the girl was evident, and so very understandable, but that didn’t mean she could get away with ruining the afternoon for everyone else with her foul mood. “If you don’t like blue, then try another color. How about this pink one?”
Sarah’s bottom lip wobbled. “I hate pink.”
“Now you’re just being ornery.”
“Am not!”
Unused to such behavior from her niece, Annabeth drew in a calming breath of air. Either that or give in to her own irritation. “Keep this up, Sarah, and I’ll have no other option than to send you upstairs.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to be here, anyway.”
A collective gasp rose up from the table. Annabeth didn’t have time for the shout of frustration that clogged in her throat, because at that moment, Hunter stepped into the doorway of the dining room.
* * *
Rotten timing, that’s what Hunter had, the very worst of all.
Never one for unnecessary drama, he took a step back, realizing a moment too late that he’d arrived just in time for a female snit of classic proportions. The fact that his daughter was at the center of the maelstrom, made him all the more leery.
Sarah’s very aggravated aunt tossed him a desperate look that said, “Do something.”
Right, sure thing, as if he knew what do with a nine-year-old female temper tantrum. Maybe he should have bought his daughter a doll.
Or...maybe not.
Sarah’s chin jutted out at an obstinate angle so reminiscent of Maria in one of her “moods” that he doubted anything could soothe the child.
Fighting off his own desperation, Hunter looked around the room and realized eight pairs of eyes—all female—were focused directly on him. Every person sitting at the table seemed to be aware of his presence. Every person, that was, except his own daughter.
She was too busy glaring at her aunt.
Hunter was way out of his league here. Had he really thought he could raise a young girl on his own? He blinked. Swallowed hard. Blinked again. Sighed. Speared his fingers through his hair.
Cleared his throat.
Sarah finally looked in his direction. And, hallelujah, her face instantly lit with happiness.
Head reeling from the swift change in her, his mouth spread into a flimsy attempt of a smile.
Tantrum forgotten, Sarah shoved back her chair and leaped forward, straight into his arms.
“You came. You really came.” A sob slipped out of her throat, far more telling than her words. “I was getting so very worried.”
Ah. So that was the source of her snit. Sarah had been afraid he wasn’t coming back, today, or maybe ever. “Not to worry, sweetheart.” He held her tightly against him. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
The tears started then. Why was she crying? What had he done wrong?
“I love you,” she whispered.
He had to swallow the hard ache that rose to his throat. His daughter was crying happy tears, because of him. “I love you, too.”
“I’m so very, very glad.” She pressed her wet cheek into his shirt, and clung, a move that further melted his already battered heart.
Hand shaking, he smoothed his palm over his daughter’s silky hair. The magnitude of what he was getting himself into sank in with a vengeance. The weight of responsibility had never felt heavier. This young girl’s happiness was connected with his, and his with hers. Every decision he made would directly influence her life, and every hurt she suffered would cut him to the core.
The last time he’d taken on another person’s care had been his wife. Though he’d failed Jane, long before Cole had found her in that alley, and in many ways, he’d failed Maria, too.
He would not fail Sarah. By the grace of God, with prayer, hard work and the help of her aunt, Hunter would do right by his daughter. He wasn’t leaving today until Annabeth agreed to come with him and Sarah to the Flying M.
Seeking out the woman in question, he captured her gaze and made the silent promise to her, as well. A moment of complete understanding spread between them, as if she understood they were in this together.
He tightened his arms around his daughter. She continued to cling to him—and didn’t that say it all? Aware they had a very attentive audience with various levels of speculation being shot their way, Hunter tried to pry Sarah’s arms from around his waist.
She was having none of it.
Thankfully, Annabeth moved to stand beside them. Bless her beautiful, kindhearted soul she’d decided to rescue him.
“All right, girls, let’s everybody settle down.” When the chattering turned to a low hum, Annabeth carefully pulled Sarah free of Hunter’s embrace. “Sarah, why don’t you introduce your friends to Mr. Mitchell?”
“All right.” She darted to the girl at the head of the table. “This is my best friend, Molly Taylor Scott.”
Hunter nodded to the girl. “You’re Trey’s daughter.”
Holding her head high, her posture oh-so-proper, Molly allowed a tiny half smile to play across her lips. “I am, indeed.”
“I’m pleased to meet you.”
“And I, you.”
He remembered what Trey had said about his wayward daughter. She was always a handful, one step away from open rebellion, but now she’s downright...difficult.
Hunter shrugged. The description didn’t match the charming girl smiling at him now. Had Trey exaggerated? Didn’t seem likely.
Sarah stepped to the next chair. “And this is Constance.”
“Constance.” Hunter nodded at the blonde girl. “A pleasure.”
Smiling broadly, Sarah continued around the table, repeating the process with each girl, naming them one by one. He tried to keep up. Natalie, Jocelyn, Mary, Prudence and, finally, Rachel, or maybe that last one was Rebecca. He’d lost track. Now his head was spinning a little. A lot.
He didn’t have a prayer of remembering all the names. Nevertheless, he smiled at each girl as Sarah made her way through the introductions.
One of the girls, the youngest if her size was anything to go by, stared up at him with wide, curious eyes. “You know who we are. But who are you?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The girl next to her jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow. “He’s the one Sarah’s been telling us about.”
“Oh.” The first girl still looked confused.
Hu
nter smiled at his daughter as she drew alongside him again. Understanding the magnitude of the moment, he slung his arm over her shoulders and said, “I’m Sarah’s father.”
The room erupted with squeals and voices tumbling over one another. Girls jumped out of their chairs in random succession, and rushed forward. Even Molly lost a portion of her earlier dignity.
Completely ignoring Hunter, they shoved and pushed and surrounded Sarah. A symphony of high-pitched voices threw questions at her in rapid-fire intensity. He’d seen bullets fly slower in a five-man gunfight.
“You certainly know how to make an entrance,” Annabeth said, speaking over the commotion.
Still watching his daughter, loving how happy she looked, he replied absently, “I learned from the master.”
“Some actress, I suppose.” Something in Annabeth’s tone drew his attention back to her. If he wasn’t mistaken, she looked as if it bothered her that he might have once been friends with an actress.
He laughed at that, really laughed. “I was referring to the one and only Mattie Silks.”
“Oh, of course.” Annabeth laughed with him then, the sound low and musical.
At the sound, something deep inside Hunter simply...let...go.
For the first time since leaving prison, he felt truly at peace, all because of the woman sharing this moment with him. The same woman who’d declared he was more than his past, who’d defended him in front of her own mother.
Annabeth Silks was a marvel.
He’d be a fool to let her get away.
Hunter was many things. A fool he was not.
Chapter Twelve
After all the questions were asked—and answered—Sarah left with Molly in search of more material so she could make bonnets for her new cousins as gifts. At least, that’s what Annabeth thought she heard the girl say. Sarah had spoken so quickly Annabeth couldn’t be sure.
Her head was still spinning from the constant chatter of the past half hour.
Looking bemused, Hunter glanced around the now empty room, his gaze bouncing off various points of interest.
Alone at last, Annabeth wanted to tell him her decision. Not here, though, not in the dining room where anyone could walk in on them.
She took his hand. “Come with me.”
He smiled. “All right.”
She led him to Marc’s office but stopped on the threshold. “Oh, Marc. Laney. I forgot.”
Sunday afternoon was when they reviewed the list of supplies needed for the coming week.
Annabeth backpedaled. “Hunter and I can find somewhere else to talk.”
“No need to leave on our account.” From behind his desk, Marc ushered them into the room with a sweep of his hand. “We were just finishing up.”
Smiling, Laney looked at them over her shoulder, her gaze zeroing in on Hunter. “Well, now, the man of the hour. I understand you told several of the children that you’re Sarah’s father today.”
“I did.”
Laney’s smile gentled, her eyes full of affection. “It’s a rare occurrence, you know, to have a father show up and accept responsibility for his child.”
Hunter’s shoulders stiffened, as if prepared for a fight. “It’s not a hardship, claiming Sarah as my daughter.”
Something swelled in Annabeth’s throat at the raw emotion she heard in his voice. He really was a good man. The very best.
“Nevertheless—” Laney nodded at him in approval “—well done, Hunter.”
Looking oddly uncomfortable for a man who was usually so sure of himself, he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I never want Sarah to question whether or not I want her in my life.”
“I’m glad.” Laney walked over to him and patted him on the cheek as she would one of the children who’d done something rather exceptional. “It’s an important step for you both.”
“Yes.”
Shifting at an angle so she could take in Annabeth and Hunter at the same time, Laney looked from one to the other, holding Annabeth’s gaze a bit longer than Hunter’s. “It’s clear you two still have some things to work out between you. Come along, Marc. Let’s give them a moment of privacy.”
Her husband was already rounding the corner of his desk. “Perfect timing, I could use a break from all those numbers.” He clapped Hunter on the back. “Good to see you.”
“You, too.”
Annabeth waited until Marc escorted Laney out of the room, and then got straight to the point. “I’ve made my decision.”
“I’m listening.” So cool, so calm, the man hid his emotions well. But Annabeth sensed the vulnerability in him, the nervousness.
She wanted to say yes.
“I will continue to be a part of Sarah’s everyday life.” And yours.
“So you’re coming with us to the Flying M.”
Now. This was the moment when she put her future into this man’s hands, for better or worse. “Yes. I’ll take on whatever role you need of me.”
A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Interesting choice of words.”
Tricky, bad, dangerous, bad, bad man. A terrible influence on her. She nearly laughed. The surge of happiness bubbling up from her soul caught her off guard. She tried to beat it down, but she couldn’t.
For once in her life, Annabeth wanted to toss aside care and step out on faith. A frightening prospect, to be sure, but she’d learned long ago that faith with no effort was no faith at all. Sarah was worth taking this risk, she told herself.
So was Hunter, her heart whispered.
He was as fierce as a tiger, had the courage of lion, and was totally, irresistibly charming when he chose to be.
Like now...
There he stood, his gaze traveling across her face with an unspoken promise in his eyes.
“Your mother isn’t going to like your decision,” he pointed out.
“I’m my own woman.”
He reached to her, his hand landing on her arm. “She’ll do whatever necessary to stop you from leaving town with me.”
“She won’t succeed.”
He moved his hand to her face.
Annabeth leaned into his touch.
“You deserve a better life than the one I can give you.”
His softly uttered words, spoken in that raw tone, staggered her. This beautiful, brave man needed a woman to care for him, to accept him, to love him. She wanted to be that woman.
“I’m doing this for Sarah,” she insisted.
“It’s a good reason. The right one.”
His hand shook ever-so-slightly, then moved to the back of her neck. Slowly, tenderly, he lowered his head toward hers. And she knew. He was going to kiss her.
The inevitability of this moment had her lifting on her toes. She wanted this, wanted it very much.
She longed to be the one to close the distance between them, to prove to him she was as much in the moment as he appeared to be.
“Be sure, Annabeth.” His mouth stopped just short of connecting with hers. “Be very sure this is what you want to do.”
Was he referring to her decision to leave Charity House? Or this...kiss?
Caught in a whirlwind of emotion, tired of fighting her longing for this man, Annabeth closed her eyes, let go of the logical part of her brain and gave herself over to this new, wondrous feeling of abandon. A sensation that felt strong and lasting, like the first step toward forever.
She whispered his name.
A moment later, his mouth closed over hers. He knotted his other hand in a loose fist around her hair. She’d never thought a kiss could feel like this, exciting, a little frightening, as if Hunter was offering himself to her, asking her to heal him.
Annabeth slid her arms around his neck, trying to get closer.
And then...
He abruptly pulled away from her.
Grim determination flattened his lips. “I’ll speak with Mattie as soon as possible.” Sad, and maybe a little lost, he gave her a halfhearted smi
le. “We need to make it right with her before we leave town.”
It took a moment for his words to register. “You don’t have to do that. Mattie is my problem, not yours.”
“She’s our problem.”
“She’s my mother,” she said. “Not my keeper.”
“I won’t be the cause of a rift between you two.”
How...utterly...sweet.
Annabeth touched his face. He was so earnest, so sincere. Tears threatened, wiggling to the edges of her eyelashes. Did this man know how good he was, deep down, where it counted?
“You’re in for a battle.” She dragged her fingertips across his cheek, his jaw, back up to his temple. “Mattie can be bone-stubborn when she has an idea stuck in her head, especially when it comes to me.”
“Don’t I know it.” Covering her roaming hand with his, his voice dropped an entire octave, growing silky with amusement and something else. Something that drew her closer to him.
“Mattie’s unquestioning devotion to you is what I like most about her.”
Something tightened in Annabeth’s throat. Hunter liked Mattie. He genuinely liked her, despite the hard exterior she presented to the world, despite what she did for a living. “Don’t ever tell her you think that. You’ll only encourage her outrageous behavior.”
He gave a mock shudder.
They dropped their hands simultaneously, laughing, smiling, sharing the joke. But when their eyes met, the laughter died away.
“Annabeth.” He pulled her against him again.
“Hunter.”
“This is a bad idea,” he muttered.
“The very worst,” she agreed. And yet, she lifted on her toes and, this time, she pressed her lips to his.
In that moment, Annabeth accepted the truth about the situation, about herself. Hunter wasn’t a bad influence on her. She was a bad influence on him.
* * *
Hunter needed to step away. He needed to release Annabeth, this very instant.
He also needed...had to have...longed for...
Her.
She wrought emotions in him he’d thought buried, such soul-deep longing he could hardly take a breath. How had Annabeth become so important to him? When had she become such a part of him that he couldn’t imagine a day without her in it?
Renee Ryan Page 13