into Hunter’s direct path. “Yes, well, facts are facts. You have a daughter. You must take on the responsibility of raising her and—”
“No.” Annabeth rushed forward, moving in front of her mother, fighting desperately for the right words to steer Hunter away from what Mattie suggested. “You can’t just show up and claim Sarah as your child. She doesn’t even know you.”
“An oversight I plan to rectify immediately.”
“But—” Think, Annabeth, think. “She’s happy at Charity House. It’s the only home she’s ever known. She has friends there, people who love her, people who care for her.”
“People like you?”
“Yes. People like me. Please, Hunter.” She reached for his arm, then pulled her hand back before making contact. “Think this through. Now is not the time for hasty decisions.”
“No. It’s not.” He looked torn, confused and maybe—dare she hope?—ready to concede.
Could it be this easy?
Annabeth pressed her advantage. “What can a man like you offer a nine-year-old little girl?”
“Family,” he whispered after a long pause. “I can give her a real family.”
Of course.
Of course.
Annabeth shut her eyes against a surge of panic. She’d forgotten who this man really was, and where he came from.
Regardless of his lawless ways and time spent in prison, Hunter was a member of a prosperous ranching family that included both parents, loads of brothers and sisters and a former U.S. marshal thrown in for good measure. The Mitchells personified respectability and, better yet, were a close-knit group. They would welcome Sarah into their midst without question. And love her unconditionally.
An ideal solution from any angle.
Unless, of course, Hunter chose not to return to his family’s ranch. Unless he took Sarah to some unknown destination, to live among unknown people.
Annabeth couldn’t take that risk. “You don’t even know she’s yours.”
She was grasping for any argument now. She knew that, felt the shame of it. But Sarah’s future was at stake. And Annabeth was desperate to protect her niece as best she could. She owed that much to the sister she’d lost before truly knowing her.
“Not mine? That’s easy enough to determine.” He pushed past her and headed toward the exit, seemingly convinced one look at Sarah would settle the matter.
Which, of course, it would.
“Wait. Just wait.” She caught his arm and was stunned at the strength of the hard muscles beneath her fingertips, like a rock, solid and unyielding.
“Let go, Annabeth.”
She released him at once. “You can’t possibly think to see her tonight.”
Brows lifted, voice low and rough, he said, “Because?”
She really had to spell it out? That alone proved how ill prepared he was to take care of Sarah on his own. “Because it’s nearly midnight.” She swept her hand toward the clock on the mantelpiece to make her point. “She’s been asleep for hours.”
“Asleep for hours.” He cracked a smile, as if amused by his mistake. Glory. Annabeth couldn’t deny the man was devastatingly attractive when he smiled like that.
She almost sighed. Almost. There was too much at stake to show weakness now.
“Oh, honestly, you two are acting worse than children. Step aside, Hunter.”
His big shoulders shifted and then Mattie appeared from behind him. When Hunter didn’t move completely out of her way she shoved and pushed for position. Satisfied at last, she slapped her hands on her hips and scowled at them both.
“You—” she pointed her finger at Annabeth “—will not stand in this man’s way.”
Annabeth opened her mouth to argue, but Mattie had already spun around to face Hunter. “And you—” she poked him in the chest “—will wait until morning to go to Charity House. It’s the polite thing to do.”
“You’re right.” He conceded quickly, graciously. “I will follow your advice and wait until tomorrow to meet my daughter.”
A momentary glimmer of pleasure flashed in his eyes, sending another burst of panic through Annabeth.
What if he wanted to do right by Sarah? Could she stop him? Should she stop him?
He represented everything she distrusted in a man. He was a former outlaw, a gunslinger, and had spent two years in prison for killing a man. By no stretch of the imagination could he be considered respectable.
Then again, he’d served his sentence. Didn’t that mean he deserved a second chance? How could Annabeth claim to be a Christian and not wish for Hunter to have a fresh start?
She studied his face, searching his gaze for something that would ease her mind.
He looked tired, ready to drop on his feet.
Clearly, he needed rest. And maybe someone to care, someone to understand what he’d endured these past two years. No condemnation. No judgment.
A portion of her trepidation subsided, replaced with something softer and far more complicated. Perhaps Hunter would turn out to be a decent man, after all. Wasn’t that more important than something as tenuous as respectability?
His appearance in their lives might be a good thing.
Faith. Annabeth just needed to have faith that all would turn out well.
“You will stay here, tonight, Hunter, free of charge. I’ll accept no argument on the matter.” Mattie pulled him toward the door leading into her brothel. “We’ll set you up with a hot bath first. Then I’ll send one of my girls to—”
“No.” His refusal was immediate, too immediate to be questioned. “I appreciate the offer, Mattie.” He smiled down at her, even as he extricated himself from her hold. “But I’ll find my own accommodations for the evening.”
“If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.” He inclined his head. “Thank you for telling me about my daughter.”
“How could I not?” Mattie’s gaze traveled to Annabeth and stuck. “It was the right thing to do.”
Annabeth swallowed back a retort. They both knew Mattie hadn’t written Hunter out of the goodness of her heart. She’d done so to protect Annabeth, unwittingly endangering Sarah in the process.
How could Mattie have been so shortsighted? So reckless?
They didn’t know Hunter Mitchell, not really. He could turn out to be a hard, cruel man bent on destroying himself and those around him.
The
