He cut off the rest of his words, something preventing him from declaring himself, something that ran deeper than his silent vow not to act on impulse. Perhaps he simply wanted the child’s easy manner to continue, didn’t want to watch that beautiful smile disappear when he declared who he was, and why he’d come here today.
“My name is Hunter Mitchell. I’m a friend of your aunt’s.”
Not entirely true, but he had so little to work with here. He’d planned poorly for this moment, he realized that now. Annabeth wasn’t helping matters. She was now staring fixedly at some point over his shoulder, not acknowledging Hunter at all, as if afraid to give him an ounce of encouragement.
“Did you say you were Hunter Mitchell?” Sarah’s dark eyebrows drew together slowly, her mind working fast, her eyes lit with excitement. And the sweetest emotion of all. Acceptance. “I know several people with that same name.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. Let me see.” She pressed her fingertip to her lips. “There’s Garrett, the twins and little Janie. Miss Megan.” She paused, her little eyebrows scrunching together. “Did you know Miss Megan used to live here, at Charity House, just like me?”
Hunter smiled. He might not have kept his family abreast of his life, but he’d managed to keep up with theirs. “Actually, I did know that.”
“And did you know that Miss Megan is married to Mr. Logan, and—” She stopped talking midsentence, her eyes wide. “Hey.” She moved closer, staring up at him with a fierce, concentrated gaze. “Anyone ever tell you that you look just like Mr. Logan?”
Despite his turbulent history with the man in question, Hunter felt a slight smile tilt up one corner of his mouth. “He’s my brother.”
“No!”
“It’s true.”
“Does that mean you grew up on a real ranch? With horses and cows and...and everything?”
“I did. My childhood home is called the Flying M, the largest cattle ranch in Colorado.”
“Oh, oh.” Sarah clapped her hands together in glee. “How exciting.”
“Very exciting,” he agreed. And he’d been fool enough to scorn the blessing of his birthright, to run away from it, to seek adventure wherever he could find it, no matter the consequences.
No more running.
He leaned down and set his hands on his knees, capturing Sarah’s attention as he did. “Visitors are always welcome at the Flying M.”
“You think I could go there one day? For a visit, I mean.”
He wasn’t going to take her for a visit. He was going to take her to live there, permanently. The future unfolded in his mind, starting with the small ranch house he would build on the land he would lease from his folks, the cattle he would eventually raise, the mended relationships he would enjoy.
But again, he held back from telling Sarah all this. One step at a time. “I think a trip to the Flying M is definitely in your future.”
Sarah squealed in delight. Her joy was contagious.
Hunter smiled at Annabeth, wanting—needing—to include her in this moment. She stared back, unsmiling, looking positively morose as she smoothed a hand across Sarah’s hair. “We’ve discussed this, Sarah. It isn’t polite to invite yourself to someone else’s home.”
Striking an exasperated stance, Sarah frowned up at her aunt. “I didn’t invite myself. He offered.” She gestured at Hunter with a jerk of her chin.
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