Identity: Classified. Liz Shoaf
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Sam leaned forward, an excited light in her eyes. “It’s easy. All you have to do is set up a snazzy website and make sure you tag onto any other sites that will promote your cookies.”
She sent a nervous glance toward Ethan, sat back and lifted her mug to her lips. After taking a sip, she carefully placed it on the table. “There are people you can hire to set that up for you.”
Mrs. Denton turned to Sam and deftly changed the subject. “So you’re here to see the sights?”
Was that a slight relaxation in Sam’s posture, or was it Ethan’s imagination?
“That’s right. Geordie and I decided to take a vacation.”
Mrs. Denton got a look in her eye that Ethan had seen before, but she opened her mouth before he could stop her.
“Well, Sheriff Hoyt could show you around Jackson Hole. He grew up here before he moved to Chicago and became a hotshot detective. He’s a widower, you know, married a sweet girl and came back here to raise his family, but Sherri died of cancer, leaving the poor man with a young daughter to raise.”
Ethan froze in his chair as memories of his deceased wife rose to the surface and threatened to choke him. Some were good, a few weren’t, and he took full responsibility for Sherri’s unhappiness at the end of her life.
He didn’t want to look at Sam—see the pity in her eyes—but he lifted his chin. What he saw surprised him. A unique understanding, as if she’d experienced something similar, but not an ounce of pity.
“Life’s tough that way sometimes.” That was all she said, and it felt just right.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, it is. How about you, Sam, you ever been married?” Time to start his fishing expedition because his gut was screaming that this woman had secrets.
Mrs. Denton piped up, “Sheriff, don’t be rude to my guest.”
His gaze slid back to Sam and he waited.
One black eyebrow arched. “Not that it’s any of your business, Sheriff, but it’s just Geordie and me.”
So the woman had perfected the art of evading a question. He decided to hit hard. “And what reason would a lady like yourself have for carrying a knife up the sleeve of her shirt?”
Mrs. Denton gasped, but Sam held up a hand. “It’s okay, I’m happy to answer his question.”
Mrs. Denton looked as interested in the answer as he did, even though she made the proper noises about him interrogating her guest.
“Let’s just say I’ve been in several places that weren’t very safe. Don’t you think it’s a good idea for a woman to be able to take care of herself?”
Ethan couldn’t help but compare Sam to his late wife. Sherri had been born and raised in Chicago—a place full of crime—but somehow she had managed to hang on to her innocence. His wife had been soft and trusting. In comparison, Sam was wary and prickly as a porcupine. The woman had street smarts, which made him only more curious.
The front door slammed open and closed. In one fluid movement, Sam jumped to her feet, pulled a small gun from inside her leather jacket and pressed her back to the wall next to the open threshold leading to the kitchen. He was simultaneously shocked and impressed at her fast reaction, but when his daughter came running past Sam, his surprise turned to fear.
Penny saw him first and flew into his lap, wrapping her precious arms around his neck, preventing him from reaching for his weapon. He kept his eyes glued to the new woman in town, and, in a flash, Sam tucked away her weapon and seated herself back at the table. He started breathing again.
“Daddy, you’ll never believe what happened at school today. Tommy Milton put a gross frog in my desk and I told him you’d put him in jail. He said a person couldn’t go to jail for that, but that’s not true, is it? ’Cause he deserves to be punished.”
Ethan stared at his six-year-old blond-haired blue-eyed precious daughter and wondered yet again why he’d been so blessed to have this child. She was the spitting image of her mother and the reason he got out of bed each morning.
He didn’t have a chance to respond because Penny squealed and wiggled out of his lap when she spotted the sweet-vicious dog. She got away from him and was on the floor with the animal before he had a chance to stop her. He held his breath, waiting to see if the beast would take a chunk out of his daughter, until a chuckle came from across the table.
He frowned at Sam.
“Don’t worry. He won’t hurt her. Geordie loves kids.”
A knife, a gun, an attack poodle and a Harley. Ethan wasn’t happy with the new visitor in town, but he couldn’t question her in front of his daughter.
“Penny, how did you know I was here?”
Big, innocent blue eyes swung his way. “Daddy, I asked the bus driver to let me off at the station. Mrs. Armstrong told me you were here.”
Mrs. Denton interrupted before he could reprimand his daughter for ditching her after-school babysitter.
“Have a cookie, Penny. They’re fresh out of the oven.”
His daughter scurried around the table, grabbed a cookie and stared at Sam.
“Who are you and is that your dog?”
Ethan took a small amount of satisfaction in Sam’s discomfort as she stared at his daughter as if she’d never seen a child before.
“Um, my name is Samantha Bailey, and Geordie belongs to me.”
“What kind of a dog is he? Can I come play with him tomorrow after school?”
Time to put a lid on his daughter’s natural curiosity and find out more about Sam before Penny spent any future time with her.
“Penny, thank Mrs. Denton for the cookie. We should get you back to the sitter. She’ll be worried sick when you don’t get off the school bus at her house.”
Penny focused adorable, pleading eyes on him. “You’re not mad, are you, Daddy? I just couldn’t wait to see you after school.”
As always, his heart melted. “No, sweetie, I’m not mad. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
Sam mumbled something under her breath. He gave her a sharp look. Did she just say what he thought she said?
“What was that?”
Her lips curved up at the corners, and her words came out sweet and syrupy. “I said one of my dogs would never get away with what your daughter just did.”
That raised his hackles. Nobody criticized his daughter but him. “And what did my daughter just do?”
Sam gave Penny an apologetic glance. “Sorry, kid, but