A Daddy on a Mission In this new installment of American Heroes

When ex-SEAL Ethan Renault settles in Sugar Falls, Idaho, the last thing he expects to find on his doorstep...is his daughter. The soldier turned insta-dad is desperate for help—and librarian Monica Alvarez is just the woman to help him connect with his little girl. But when sparks fly between them, the soldier realizes his next mission might just be to turn their no-strings romance into a forever family!

CHRISTY JEFFRIES graduated from the University of California, Irvine, with a degree in criminology, and received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mummyhood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at christyjeffries.com.

Also by Christy Jeffries

A Marine for His Mom

Waking Up Wed

From Dare to Due Date

The Matchmaking Twins

The Makeover Prescription

A Family Under the Stars

The Firefighter’s Christmas Reunion

A Proposal for the Officer

The Maverick’s Bridal Bargain

The Maverick’s Christmas to

Remember

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The SEAL’s Secret Daughter

Christy Jeffries

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09084-1

THE SEAL’S SECRET DAUGHTER

© 2019 Christy Jeffries

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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To my baby brother, Charles Duarte. Thank you for

moving in and giving me this wonderful opportunity to

reconnect and bond with you even more. Even though

I’ve got more experience at life, you have grown into

such a patient and wise man, I often find myself coming

to you for advice. I love you, Chaddy.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Getting out of bed was usually the easiest part of Ethan Renault’s day. It wasn’t only a promise of a fresh start, it was also a reminder that he was alive and healthy and had made it through the previous day without a single drop of booze.

The real struggle didn’t begin until he padded barefoot to his kitchen and flipped on the switch of the coffee maker. That was when he started to think of how much he would prefer a swig of Jim Beam over a double dose of the strongest, darkest brew available in the coffee aisle at Duncan’s Market.

Ethan had bought himself a top-of-the-line Keurig the same day he’d signed his discharge papers. Listening to the expensive machine gurgle water as it heated was his reward for all the times he’d had to endure the trumpet blast of “Reveille” to make him spring from his rack during boot camp and then again in BUD/S training.

It had been six months since Ethan had officially left the United States Navy and landed in the small town of Sugar Falls, Idaho, to restart his life. Yet, except for the gourmet coffee maker sitting on the counter, the tiny kitchen in the apartment he’d rented above a downtown storefront was still just as sparse as the day he’d moved in.

The place had come furnished with only the basics and every once in a while, Ethan might pick up a few things at the market to add to the fridge. But it wasn’t as though he enjoyed many meals at home. For some recovering alcoholics, socializing and eating at local restaurants with full-service bars might prove to be too much of a temptation. With Ethan, though, dining out provided him with more accountability—more eyes watching to keep him in line.

Besides, when he was alone, he had too much time to think.

As the coffee brewed, he made his way back to the bathroom and cranked the shower faucet to the highest setting. He was barely under the steaming spray long enough to get wet when he heard a pounding knock.

It wasn’t even 0700 yet, so the chances of someone paying him a social call this early were pretty slim. They probably have the wrong apartment, he thought as he washed the shampoo from his hair. Yet, the knocking continued. Ethan debated staying in the shower and just ignoring whomever was banging on his front door. But what if it was a neighbor who needed a favor? Or a friend from one of his meetings who needed some encouragement?

Stepping out on the cold tile floor, he grabbed a towel and made his way toward the hall as he dried himself.

“Hold on a sec!” he yelled, crossing to his bedroom and grabbing a pair of jeans off the top of his dresser. The knocking paused briefly, but resumed before he could get his fly buttoned. Geez, what was this person’s major emergency?

He tugged one of the thermal shirts off the hanger so quickly, the plastic triangle flew off the nearly empty closet rod. Ethan barely had his arms shoved through the sleeves when he finally yanked open the front door.

A woman he didn’t recognize stood outside on the narrow landing, a lit cigarette hanging from the tight, thin line that was her mouth. She flicked the cigarette over the railing, not bothering to see where it landed below, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Ethan Renault?”

“Can I help you?” he replied without confirming his identity.

“You the same Ethan Renault who went to Sam Houston High?”

He narrowed his gaze, studying the woman before him. There were dark circles under her eyes and a permanent crease between her brows, as though she wore a constant frown. Had he gone to school with her?

When he didn’t immediately respond, she continued. “Yep, it’s you all right. Your hair might be shorter, but you still do that twitching thing with your fingers that makes you look like you’re about to run off at the drop of a hat.”

Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked forward on the balls of his bare feet. “Do I know you?”

The woman gave a snort, as though she expected quite a different response when she showed up unannounced on a stranger’s doorstep this early in the middle of February. But Ethan patiently waited her out.

It was then that he noticed someone else standing on the stairs behind her. A young girl with dark, tangled hair holding a plastic grocery store bag kept her head down, fixated at the hole on her canvas sneaker where her big toe was popping through.

“I’m Chantal DeVecchio,” the woman finally said, her added eye roll conveying her annoyance at not having been recognized right away. “And this,” she said, gesturing to the girl, “is your daughter, Trina.”

* * *

“But I don’t have a daughter,” Ethan told the woman who no longer looked anything like the eighteen-year-old cheerleader he’d once taken to the prom. His chest felt as though it was caving inward and he had to straighten his back and brace a hand against the door frame.

“She’s yours,” Chantal said. “And it’s about time you man up and take care of your responsibilities.”

Ethan’s spine stiffened even more at the insult to his masculinity and the implication of his negligence. His eyes darted between his former high school girlfriend and the dark-haired child who appeared to only be interested in the patterns her sneakers made on the snow-covered steps. While he didn’t know much about raising kids, he at least knew better than to let them go running around without socks when it was only twenty degrees outside.

“Why didn’t you call me?” What he really wanted to ask was why had Chantal waited almost twelve years to spring such a life-changing surprise on him. “Or tell me before now?”

One minute, he’d been getting ready to head out for his regular breakfast over at the Cowgirl Up Café, wondering if today would be the day he’d finally convinced the shy server who waited on him every morning to go out on a date. The next minute, someone was banging on his front door and then accusing him of being a deadbeat dad to a child he’d never even known about.

“Because I didn’t find out I was pregnant until after you’d joined the Navy and shipped out. It wasn’t like you left a forwarding address before you and your dad ran out of town that summer.”

It was true, Ethan had enlisted right after graduation. His dad was in the oil rigging business, constantly on the move to different cities depending on the latest job. Ethan had already switched high schools five times in three years and, that summer, the only new start he’d been eager to make was the change that would finally begin his adult life.

Scanning the alley behind the row of Victorian buildings that made up the downtown business district of Sugar Falls, Ethan realized that the local merchants would soon be filling up those parking spaces. “Maybe you should come inside and we can talk about this.”

“Nothing to talk about,” Chantal said, snatching the plastic sack out of her—and possibly his—daughter’s hand and tossing it into his entryway. A purple T-shirt spilled out and landed on his bare foot. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m just not cut out for motherhood. It’s your turn to step up and be a father.”

She turned around and gave Trina’s shoulder an awkward hug. “I’m sorry, Trina,” she said, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. “But it’s for the best. You’ll see.”

Chantal then brushed past the girl and marched down the steps. Ethan took a few strides to chase after the woman, but only made it halfway down the staircase when he realized that the child wasn’t following. Or begging her mom not to leave her. The poor thing just stood there, looking as miserable as Ethan felt.

Something was ricocheting in his chest with a thumping urgency, but his body remained perfectly still. He needed to do something, to say something, but all he could do was grip the wrought iron handrail until his brain and his body could work in sync.

What he wouldn’t give for a shot of bourbon right about now. Or for a call from his AA sponsor. But no amount of booze or platitudes or even SEAL team combat training could’ve prepared Ethan for the blow he’d just been dealt.

Not knowing what to do, his feet grew restless and the snow squishing between his toes began to sting, causing him to take a step toward the girl. Then he froze up all over again, like that time in Kabul when he and his buddy Boscoe faced an unexpected rainstorm of firepower. One wrong move could cause everything to blow up in his face. Worse than it already had.

An engine turned over in the alley below his apartment and he looked over his shoulder in time to see Chantal speeding off in a Geo Storm that might’ve been yellow twenty years ago. The shredded end of a rope holding the hatchback down to the bumper dragged along the wet asphalt as she made her escape.

A shiver started between Ethan’s shoulder blades and traveled its way down his back. He ran a hand through his still damp hair and faced the young girl huddled on his porch.

His gut was telling him that it couldn’t be possible for him to have a daughter. However, in the right light, if the child would look up and shove some of the stringy, black hair from her eyes, Ethan might concede that she somewhat resembled his French grandmother.

To be fair to Chantal, he had to admit he hadn’t exactly kept track of every person he’d ever slept with over the years, but certainly he would’ve remembered if he’d gotten someone pregnant. Wouldn’t he?

The girl made a sniffing sound, as though her nose was running, but she still didn’t raise her head or look in his direction.

Shame flooded through him at the realization that he’d never even thought to ask her if she was okay. Or to try and put the child at ease. He opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t command his tongue to form any words and ended up snapping it closed again. Damn. He was already proving himself to be a crappy father.

Clearing his throat, he reminded himself that he was once a member of an elite Special Forces team and had encountered dangers far graver than an eleven-year-old landing on his doorstep. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Ethan.”

“I know,” the girl whispered, then wrapped a scrawny arm around her waist. It was then that he noticed she wasn’t even wearing a sweater, let alone a coat.

“Why don’t you come inside, Trina? It’s freezing out here.”

The girl eventually lifted her face and his lungs seized. Her eyes weren’t wide with fear, as Ethan would’ve expected. Nor were they filled with humiliation or hurt, which would’ve been understandable given the way her mother had just dumped her here. Instead, they were completely without expression. Witnessing their empty depths would’ve been downright spooky if he hadn’t recognized that same look in his own eyes the night after his last covert ops assignment. Or recognized the identical sapphire-blue color that ran rampant in the Renault family.

Trina didn’t decline his invitation, but she wasn’t exactly quick to make a decision either. She had to be equally as afraid of him as he was of her. Stranger danger and all that. She must’ve heard her mother announce that he was her father, but that didn’t mean she necessarily believed it. Well, that made two of them.

Being careful not to touch her as he stepped around her shivering form, Ethan held open the door, hoping that the heat coming from his apartment would be more inviting than the ugly used furniture inside. He was about to go into the kitchen and grab his cell phone to call for backup when finally, with an apprehensive look cast in Ethan’s direction, her feet shuffled toward him.

Trina gave him a measured glance before swooping low to grab her purple T-shirt and shoving it back into her grocery bag. She held the recovered belongings close to her chest, as though they were some sort of shield that could protect her from him.

“Are you hungry?” Ethan asked. He left the front door wide-open as he walked toward the kitchen, not wanting her to feel trapped. Would she follow? Or would she run off, just as her mother had?

“Kinda,” Trina replied, her voice again no louder than a whisper. She was on the thin side and he wondered when she’d had her last meal.

Ethan stared at his bare counters, knowing full well the only thing he could offer the girl right now would be a mug of triple-brewed dark roast.

“I...uh...wasn’t exactly expecting company.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I usually eat breakfast at the café across the street.”

Trina tilted her head at him, her blue eyes still empty, her arms still clutched tightly to her in apprehension. If she was truly his daughter, Ethan wanted to do the right thing by her. He just wasn’t convinced that taking care of her all by himself would be the right thing.

He really could use some direction here. This town was bursting with know-it-all busybodies who had opinions on everything from which colors to paint the historical homes to who should play point guard for the high school basketball team. Unfortunately, none of those people were currently inside his apartment.

“I’ve got an idea,” Ethan said, but Trina’s blank expression didn’t waver. “I’m going to grab my coat and, uh, something for you to put on to keep warm, and we’ll go across the street and grab a hot breakfast.”

Surely someone over at the Cowgirl Up Café would have an idea of what he should do with the girl.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, walking down the hallway toward his bedroom. As he looked at the few clothes hanging in his closet, he wondered if Trina would still be standing in his living room when he came out. Or had she already made a run for it the second he turned his back? It was what he would’ve done in her situation.

But she was right where he’d left her when he returned with a fleece-lined hooded sweatshirt branded with the eagle and trident logo. “Here, this is the best I could come up with. But we’re not going very far.”

She had to drop her bag on the scuffed dining room table to take the sweatshirt from him. He sat at one of the cheap pine chairs to pull on his work boots, trying not to notice the way Trina kept having to push the sleeves up her arms to keep her hands from getting drowned by the heavy material of the borrowed sweatshirt.

Locking the front door behind him, Ethan realized that Trina was very careful not to get in front of him. She would only follow after he’d already passed. Whenever his team had infiltrated compounds and taken captives or brought in noncombatants for questioning, they’d been trained to always stay behind the enemy—to never turn their backs on a potential threat.

The thought that his own daughter might view him as a threat made his stomach go sour, however, Ethan didn’t say anything as they walked down the steps to the alley and then through the narrow walkway that put them out on to Snowflake Boulevard. When they got on the main street of town, he glanced down the block toward the new public safety building that housed both the police department and the fire station. It would be so easy to lead Trina over there and drop her off. His mind calculated how long it would take him to leave her at the entrance and then hop into his secondhand truck and drive down the mountain to the Boise airport.

How long would it take to leave this whole mess behind him?

But he’d lived his life being on the move, alternating between taking on the most dangerous assignments to come through his unit and then drowning himself in a bottle to escape the unpleasantness of the world. The whole point of his leaving the Navy and relocating to Sugar Falls was so he could finally slow down, sober up and figure out what his next chapter would be.

He just hadn’t expected fatherhood to be on the first page.

* * *

Monica Alvarez was balancing a tray of refilled salt and pepper shakers in one hand and a pot of decaf in the other when the tingling bell sounded above the saloon-style front doors of the Cowgirl Up Café. As a part-time waitress, early Wednesday mornings were usually her easiest shifts—most of the weekend tourists were long gone, replaced with only a handful of regulars lounging in their favorite booths, ordering their usuals, which she now had memorized. However, it wasn’t the blast of frigid air coming in from outside that made the welcoming smile fade from Monica’s lips.

It wasn’t even the arrival of the hunky contractor who ordered the same exact breakfast—four scrambled egg whites, turkey sausage patties, sliced tomatoes and black coffee with a side of flirtatious banter—that made her pause. It was the unexpected appearance of a young girl cowering behind him that had stopped Monica in her tracks and caused the ceramic cowboy boot–shaped spice shakers on her tray to wobble.

The first time she’d waited on Ethan Renault several months ago, she’d written him off as a harmless bad boy who would eventually give up once he figured out that she wasn’t interested in his type. Initially, it had been easy to brush off the sexy smirk and ignore the lazy way his thick-lashed eyes followed her as she messed up orders and proved herself to be an incompetent waitress.

But the man had been patient and stealthy and, occasionally, he’d even made her laugh. Last week, when she’d been at her real job, Ethan had come into the library and asked for a recommendation. Anyone who knew her understood that the best way to get Monica involved in a conversation was to talk about books. That’s how she related best to people, by understanding them as readers firsts. Knowing a person’s reading habits revealed so much, it was like a secret superpower that only librarians and booksellers possessed.

She’d given him a copy of Rejection for Dummies and he’d happily taken it without batting his handsome blue eyes. Then, the first thing he’d told her Monday morning was that the book was okay, but that he was waiting for the movie. While Monica hadn’t had the time—or the desire—to date much since college, she’d had a feeling that his line was a lead-in and that Ethan would’ve asked her out to the movies if a very confused and agitated Gran hadn’t called the restaurant right then and needed Monica to come home to help find the cat that they didn’t own.

Today, she’d been expecting him to pick up the flirtatious banter right where he’d left off and she’d even toyed around with the idea of accepting his offer—if he asked her out, anyway—because she could barely remember the last time she’d gotten out and had a little fun for herself.

However, there was nothing jovial or flirty about the man right this second. In fact, the deep grooves along his brow and the hardened line of his jaw made him look like a completely different person—like he’d been hiding his true personality all along.

With only two other occupied booths in the restaurant this early in the morning, there were half a dozen sets of eyes trained on the new arrivals. The curious stares coupled with the silence spoke volumes and reassured Monica that she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed that something was out of the ordinary.

A prickling sensation made its way down the back of her neck and she cleared her throat. “Table for two?”

“Uh...yeah,” he finally said, and glanced behind him at the girl. Ethan normally walked into the restaurant with a grin and a sense of purpose, saying hello to all the locals before grabbing his favorite seat at the end of the counter. Today, though, he didn’t make a move toward his usual spot despite the fact it was empty. He didn’t really move at all.

“How about that table over there.” Monica used her chin to nod toward an empty corner booth that was on the opposite side of where the other diners were now blatantly staring at them.

“Great,” Ethan replied, and began walking in that direction. He took a few steps, then paused and turned to the child. “Is this okay?”

The girl’s only response was to follow behind him, her head not lifting. Something about the child tugged at Monica’s heart and reminded her of how shy and awkward she’d once been at that same age.

Monica took the tray of shakers to the prep station and switched out the pot of decaf for regular coffee, since Ethan normally drank at least three cups.

When she returned to their table, she passed them both laminated menus. Not that Ethan ever needed one, but something was definitely off about him this morning and she no longer knew what to expect. Using the same smile she used during the tiny tots reading circle at the library, she faced the girl and said, “Hi. I’m Monica.”

The child lifted her face and Monica gasped at the resemblance to Ethan. Their mouths were the same shape and their chins shared matching dimples. If the girl’s stringy hair was washed and brushed, it would likely be the exact inky-black shade as Ethan’s, as well. Yet, it was the bottomless sapphire-blue eyes that were the dead giveaway.

They were definitely related.

That didn’t make sense, though. Monica could’ve sworn that she’d once overheard him bragging about being single and carefree. Plus, she was positive that he’d told Freckles, the owner of the café, that his mom died when he was a boy and his father had passed away a few years ago and he didn’t have any other family.

So then where had this child come from?

If Freckles hadn’t taken the morning off, the nosy older woman would’ve been asking all kinds of questions, like whether this was the girl’s first time in Sugar Falls and how long was she visiting. Unfortunately, Monica wasn’t quite as smooth when it came to starting conversations with the customers. Sure, she liked listening to people talk and picking up information here and there, but she didn’t have that ability of asking the right kinds of questions to illicit much more than a two-or three-word response. Unless it was about their favorite books.

But a million questions were floating through her head as she stared at the child, who was having trouble keeping her hands pushed through the sleeves of the man-size sweatshirt she’d obviously borrowed from Ethan.

There was still snow outside this time of year. Where was the girl’s jacket?

Monica turned over Ethan’s mug and poured him a steaming cup of coffee, but he avoided eye contact so she couldn’t read any clues on his normally friendly face. Turning to the girl, she said, “It’s pretty cold this morning. How about some hot chocolate?”

The girl’s eyes grew wide, and for an instant, an almost...craving expression flashed across her face, as though she’d never wanted anything more. Yet, her only reply was to study Ethan with a guarded look.

“Do you like hot chocolate?” Ethan asked her, and the girl nodded slowly. “Then hot chocolate it is.” He turned to Monica. “This is Trina. We’re still...uh...getting to know each other.”

A chill spread through Monica, making her skin prickle with unease. Stumbling backward, she retreated to the prep station behind the counter. She fumbled with the bottle of chocolate sauce several times as she thought about Ethan’s odd response. How did he not know the girl before now? They were clearly related.

Monica caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see Trina dart into the hallway leading toward the restrooms. A hissing sound, followed by a blast of steam, drew her attention back to the complex frothing machine her boss had installed a few weeks ago and she barely got the thing shut off in time to prevent the hot milk from splattering everywhere. Monica cupped the warm mug in her trembling hands as she quickly walked to the table where Ethan was now sitting alone.

She needed to hurry if she wanted to talk to him before Trina returned from the restroom. Out of all the questions she wanted answered, the first one that came tumbling out of her mouth was, “Is she yours?”

Monica winced at her own words, her whisper-soft tone not making the personal question sound any less rude.

But Ethan either hadn’t been bothered or he was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the impolite tone. He shrugged his shoulders, the expression on his face almost trancelike. “That’s what her mother said when she left her on my front porch this morning.”

“What do you mean, her mother left her on your front porch?” Monica had to brace her hand on the cowhide printed backrest of the booth. She was no longer whispering, drawing the curious stares from the other side of the restaurant.

“She knocked on my door this morning. I didn’t even recognize her.”

“Trina?” Disgust rose in Monica’s throat. How had the man not recognized his own daughter?

“No. Her mom. I guess we dated in high school and...” Ethan gave another shrug and it was all she could do not to grab two fistfuls of his plaid work shirt and shake the rounded muscles of his shoulders.

“You guess?” Monica swallowed a lump of annoyance. She wasn’t only ticked off with his answer, she was angry with herself. Disappointed at how easily she’d been blinded by her building attraction to a man who didn’t seem to know anything about his own daughter—including her existence. “So where is her mother now?”

“Her mother?” His brows formed a V and Monica rolled her eyes in frustration. She could handle Ethan easily enough when he was being a charming flirt, or even when he professed to be interested in her tongue-in-cheek book recommendations. However, if he was hoping this whole confused pretense would draw her sympathy, he was sorely mistaken.

“Yes. The person you dated back in high school? The mother of your child?”

“Right. Chantal drove off. She said she wasn’t any good at being a mom and threw Trina’s bag of clothes at me, telling me it was my turn to step up.”

There was nothing more reprehensible than a man who didn’t take care of his responsibilities. No amount of sex appeal or charm could make up for a lack of character. Her own father had been the same way and Monica shuddered at how close she’d come to falling under Ethan’s spell.

At how close she’d come to repeating her own mother’s same mistakes.

Chapter Two

Monica’s growing revulsion was soon replaced with pity as Trina returned from the bathroom, her chin low and her face averted from the curious stares from the other customers as she carried a balled-up blue sweatshirt under one arm. Monica took in his daughter’s lanky unwashed hair and the oversize T-shirt advertising Mesquite Muffler Mart and Automotive Repair. Not exactly a fashion staple in most preteen girls’ closets.

The child’s voice was low and gravelly when she whispered, “Why do they all keep looking over here?”

Monica glanced toward her Wednesday morning regulars. Scooter and Jonesy, the two older cowboys, were mostly harmless although a little gossipy at times. She couldn’t say the same for the other three ladies, who apparently weren’t in any hurry to leave, despite the fact they’d already paid their checks and had their own local businesses to open.

Monica had grown up in Sugar Falls and, as much as she withered under the curious stares and wagging tongues, at least she was used to the presence of the small-town busybodies. It had to be twenty times worse for a child who was also an outsider.

“You know what?” Monica stood up straighter. “The cook is out on a smoke break. Why don’t you guys come on back to the kitchen and I’ll fix your breakfast myself? It’s much more private back there.”

She was still holding the mug of hot chocolate and tried to give Trina a reassuring smile before leading the way toward the swinging door. It took a few seconds before the girl followed, and Monica pulled out the single wooden stool near a stainless steel counter for Trina, not bothering with a thought for where Ethan would sit.

He could either plop himself on the ground or go on and slither out the front door for all she cared. Instead, she had to hold back every insulting word on the tip of her tongue when Ethan finally wormed his way back into the kitchen. After all, it wouldn’t be fair to say anything that might upset Trina, the poor little girl who’d just been abandoned by her own mother.

Monica added a heavy dollop of whipped cream to the mug of cocoa and handed it to the waif of a child. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Ethan must’ve left his own coffee back at the table and Monica couldn’t help but shoot daggers at the man who stood by the door, his hands buried in his jean pockets and his eyes darting around nervously, as though he was also plotting his own escape. As though leaving a child behind was no different than abandoning his cup of coffee.

A knot of concern wedged between her rib cage. Monica had also grown up without a father, but at least she’d had Gran. Trina, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have anyone. Maybe someone should call child protective services or even the police department and file some sort of report. She made a mental note to do some research on it. Once she got Trina fed.

“Would you like blueberries in your pancakes?” Monica asked.

Trina shot a questioning glance to her father. Or at least the man who’d sired her. “Does that cost extra?”

“I...uh...” Ethan’s normally cocky voice stuttered and Monica would’ve laughed at how many notches his ego must’ve been taken down if the circumstances hadn’t come at Trina’s expense. He moved closer and leaned a hip against the basin of the prep sink. “You can get whatever you want. Don’t worry about the cost.”

The girl let out a breath and put an elbow onto the counter, resting her chin on her palm as she studied the man. Monica poured some batter onto the griddle and threw in a scoop of blueberries, constantly glancing back over her shoulder to watch the silent staring contest between father and daughter.

“Only rich people say things like ‘don’t worry about the cost,’” Trina said, and Monica choked back a giggle. She was glad to see that the child was finally finding her voice and speaking up. “Are you one of those guys who lives in a crappy apartment, but you’re really a secret billionaire?”

“I’m not rich. And my apartment isn’t that crappy. I mean it’s not really decorated or anything because I’ve only lived there a few months. And I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

“Ethan,” Monica warned, unsure of the direction that this conversation was taking and not wanting the man to do any further damage than he’d already done by being an absent father for the past however many years. “How old are you, Trina?”

“Eleven.”

“Wow.” Ethan exhaled a long, slow hiss of air. “I didn’t... I don’t... I... Wow. I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want me,” Trina said when Ethan apparently couldn’t finish whatever it was he’d been trying to say. Whatever cheap apologies he might’ve offered for missing the first eleven years of her life. “I have a caseworker back in Galveston. If you call her, she’ll get me a bus ticket or an emergency foster home or something.”

“Have you been in foster care before?” Ethan asked, inching closer, and Monica held her breath, praying the young girl had somehow had a happy and fulfilling life up until now.

“Every year or so, my mother decides that she can’t deal with me or with life and takes off somewhere. I used to live with my grandmother, but Gran died a few months ago.”

“Oh,” was all Ethan could say, and Monica clenched the spatula tighter, her heart clenching at the girl’s casual indifference about her situation.

“I have a Gran, too,” Monica offered, sliding a very uneven pancake onto a plate. Cooking wasn’t exactly her forte, but neither was waitressing. “She also raised me after my father left.”

Trina smiled and mumbled a “Thanks.” But Monica wasn’t sure if it was for the attempt at making her breakfast or for the attempt at understanding her situation. Or both.

Ethan must’ve heard something he didn’t like, though, because he scrunched up his nose and attempted a subtle head shake at Monica. Perhaps he didn’t appreciate someone pointing out the obvious comparison to another deadbeat dad, but he couldn’t very well deny that he’d also left his daughter. Well, Monica supposed he could deny knowing about her in the first place, but he apparently knew better than to discuss all of his excuses right in front of the poor girl.

Monica set the dish in front of Trina and said, “Eat up and then we’ll figure out who we need to call.”

“Why would we need to call anyone?” Ethan asked. “And can I get one of those pancakes?”

“No, you may not.” Monica squared her shoulders and turned toward him. Stepping behind Trina, who was drowning her plate in syrup, Monica jerked her thumb at the area in the corner where Freckles kept the stacks of flour and the cans of shortening for her famous biscuits. Walking that way, she had to wave an arm at Ethan who was slow to get the hint.

It was a tighter spot than she’d anticipated, and when he wedged his muscular six-foot frame in next to her, she was hit with the lemony scent of his shampoo. His face was only inches from hers and she lowered her gaze to the soft flannel of his work shirt and the way it stretched across his broad chest.

To get her mind off his physical nearness, Monica curled her fingers into her palms, squeezing until her nails dug into her hands. Finally, she was able to lift her head and unclench her jaw long enough to whisper, “What do you mean ‘why would we need to call anyone?’”

“If she’s my daughter, then she’s not going back to some social worker in Galveston.”

If she’s his daughter? It didn’t take a paternity test to prove the two looked exactly alike, including those haunted blue eyes.

“Lower your voice,” she admonished, squinting past him to see if Trina had overheard. “She isn’t a lost puppy. You can’t just take a child home and keep her.”

“Why not?” he asked, and her frustration mounted, heating her face. Or maybe it was the way his bicep brushed against her shoulder when he shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

She didn’t have a legal argument, or at least she wouldn’t until her shift was over and she went to the library and did some research. So Monica attempted to argue using common sense. “Because she doesn’t know you, Ethan. She’s got to be terrified.”

“And sending her off with some stranger to a foster home wouldn’t be even scarier?”

“I can hear you, you know,” Trina called out, not bothering to turn around.

Monica pursed her lips and shot Ethan a pointed look of annoyance since she couldn’t very well say, Now look what you did.

“Sorry, Trina.” Ethan returned to where his daughter was seated.

Monica held her breath. She really should be back in the dining room, checking on her customers. But her heart was tearing apart at the way the girl just shrugged everything off, no longer making eye contact with the man who’d fathered her.

“I’m normally not so rude,” he offered, and Monica had to give him that. In fact, Ethan was usually quite a smooth talker. Too smooth, if you asked her. “But seeing you, finding out...well, I’ve just been caught off guard.”

Just then, Scooter Deets, one of the old-timers who ate at the café every morning, sauntered by the pass-through window and held up a hot pink coffee mug. Scooter had checked out a book on plumbing two years ago and his overdue fine was pushing triple digits. “Don’t mind me, y’all. I’m just grabbing myself a refill.”

Trying to fill up on gossip was more like it, Monica thought.

“I’ll be right there,” she said to the cowboy, who was normally hard of hearing unless there was something juicy going on. Monica turned to Trina. “Give me a couple of minutes and we’ll put our heads together and figure something out.”

“What’s there to figure out? She’s my daughter. She’s coming home with me.”

Monica pursed her lips and pointed to the corner of shelves so that Trina wouldn’t have to listen to them talking about her. Again. This time, when he followed her, Monica steeled herself for his closeness. “What do you even know about raising a child, much less a daughter?”

“Like I said, I’m a bit out of sorts, so you’ll have to forgive me for being rude,” Ethan started, indicating that something rude was about to come out of his normally smirking mouth. “But it really isn’t your business.”

The insult hit its mark and Monica’s aggravated groan sounded more like a defensive gasp. “You’re right, Ethan Renault. You’re not my business at all, thank God. However, someone needs to be looking out for what’s best for Trina and you obviously haven’t shown an interest in doing so in the past.”

“I didn’t even know she existed before this morning,” he hissed. “So how could I have shown anything in the past?”

“Psfhh.” Monica’s hands went to her hips. “The fact that you didn’t know in the first place is telling enough.”

“I was in high school the last time I saw her mom. I was just a dumb kid back then. How would you like someone to judge you for what you did when you were a teenager?”

The breath caught in Monica’s throat. When she’d been that age, she’d been working two jobs and studying around the clock to keep her grades high enough to win a college scholarship. She was more likely to be judged for being a boring stick-in-the-mud.

The squeaking hinge of the kitchen’s back door sounded and Monica looked up, expecting to see the cook returning from his break. Instead, she saw nobody. When she glanced over to where Trina was sitting, the only thing left was an empty plate.

“Oh hell,” Ethan said, running a hand through his short hair and sprinting toward the door.

The flash of panic had been evident on his face and Monica suddenly regretted every accusation she’d just thrown his way. She’d been reliving all of her old painful memories of her own father and projecting those past hurts onto an easy target.

She followed Ethan to the back door, but before she could exit, he came barreling back inside. “She’s not in the alley.”

“Where do you think she could’ve gone?” Monica gnawed on her lower lip.

“I have no idea. I really don’t know anything about her. When she showed up on my doorstep an hour ago, she looked cold and hungry. I didn’t have anything for her to eat so that’s why we came here. I was hoping to get some answers, but now she’s disappeared.”

A tinkling bell sounded over the front door and Monica wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. Now wasn’t the time for more customers to show up.

“Maybe she went back to your place?” Monica suggested. Every fiber in her body wanted to chase after the poor girl and keep her safe, but she couldn’t until the second waitress came on duty for her shift. “You go look for her there and I’ll stay here in case she comes back.”

“It took me eleven years to find her,” Ethan said, his eyes pleading with Monica’s as though she was the only one who could help him. “I don’t want to lose her again.”

* * *

“I have no clue where to even look for her,” Ethan said to his boss over the phone’s speaker as he slowly cruised his truck up and down Snowflake Boulevard, the center of the touristy Victorian downtown. Since he was expected at his contracting job at eight, it seemed only responsible to call his employer and confide in everything that had happened.

“Maybe you should call the police department,” Kane Chatterson offered.

“I’m pretty sure I heard Monica Alvarez say she was going to call when I tore out of the Cowgirl Up half an hour ago. Hold on, my call waiting is beeping.” Ethan looked at his screen and saw the number. His adrenaline, which had been pumping steadily until this point, suddenly nosedived. “It’s the police. I’ll call you back.”

Switching over to the other line, Ethan didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Carmen, did you find her?”

“Monica found her in the ladies’ room at the Cowgirl Up,” Officer Carmen Gregson replied, and Ethan’s exhale came out in a whoosh. “Apparently, she circled back and went in the front door, but Monica didn’t have your cell number. I’m heading over there now, but we might want to go somewhere a little less gossipy than the local diner so we can get this worked out.”

The fear clenching around his gut lessened, yet Ethan’s pulse remained elevated with apprehension. And confusion. Two hours ago, he didn’t even know he had a daughter, didn’t know his world could be so thrown off its axis before it got shaken up and thrown again.

Ethan eased his truck off the road and scrubbed at the lower half of his face, the face he hadn’t had time to shave this morning. More air released from his lungs before he asked, “What do we need to work out?”

“Just a heads-up, Renault...” The police officer, his best friend’s wife, was also former military and it put Ethan more at ease to have someone use his last name. “When Monica called it in, she said the girl mentioned something about a caseworker back in Texas. That means, by law, I’m required to notify them or the local child protective services.”

“Will they take her from me?” Ethan hadn’t exactly been doing cartwheels at the opportunity to be a father, but there was a ball of nausea welling up in his belly at the thought of his child—someone who shared his blood—being raised by a complete stranger.

“Why don’t you meet me at the café and we can walk the girl over to the station or someplace else where we can talk.”

“Right,” Ethan said, returning his foot to the accelerator and steering back onto the road. “I’m on my way.”

Thankfully, his first instinct wasn’t to stop by the bar or the liquor store before he got there—not that either would be open this early. Still, it was a relief that his steady hands now offered his mixed-up mind some focus. Ethan again toyed with the idea of calling his sponsor to tell him about this recent development, but he didn’t quite know what was going on, let alone know how to explain it. The best thing he could do was talk to Trina and the authorities and figure out his next step.

By the time he found a parking spot on the street between the Cowgirl Up Café and his apartment, Officer Gregson and Monica were already walking his way. His daughter appeared even more fragile between the two adult females, her head down and her face hidden behind a mess of stringy, limp hair.

He’d heard about dads who fell in love with their newborns right there in the delivery room. Something must be wrong with Ethan then, because he hadn’t experienced an instant bond with the girl when he’d first seen her outside his door this morning. In fact, she’d been a sullen, quiet little thing who would barely look at him—not that he could blame her. But now, desperation pricked at his skin as Trina approached and he needed some sort of sign that she was okay. Or at least, that she would be okay.

Carmen must’ve taken pity on Ethan’s panicked expression because she told him, “The three of us had a good talk in the ladies’ room and we all agreed that everyone would feel more comfortable talking at your place so we can get a better handle on the situation.”

Ethan definitely didn’t have a handle on any of this and it had to be obvious. Worse, they’d most likely overwhelmed the poor girl when he and Monica stood there arguing about his inability to raise a child right in front of her, essentially driving her away. While Monica’s earlier accusations still rankled at him, now wasn’t the time to continue that discussion.

As the trio of females silently trudged up the stairs behind him, Ethan unlocked his front door for more visitors than his apartment had ever held at one time. At least in the few months that he’d lived there.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Trina mumbled as she walked past him and toward his hallway. His first instinct was to ask the girl why she was always running to the restroom, however, it might be easier to talk with the others if he didn’t have to watch his words. Plus, there wasn’t a window in there so it wasn’t like Trina could escape. Again.

“Is this everything she has?” Monica folded a denim pair of shorts that had fallen out of the plastic grocery bag Trina had left on the dining room table earlier. “There isn’t much inside here.”

“Any paperwork?” Carmen asked her, and Ethan had to bite his tongue to keep from asking why Monica was even a part of this. “It would help if we had an official name or something to go by before I call any other agencies.”

For such a seemingly shy and reserved woman, Monica certainly had no problem barging into his personal life and offering up her opinions. Although, Trina had definitely opened up more when the quiet librarian and part-time waitress had spoken to her. He wondered what else she and his daughter had discussed in that ladies’ room while Ethan had been tearing through town in a full panic.

“Here,” Monica said, holding up a pink-and-blue document titled Birth Certificate. Despite the lenses of her glasses, he could still see the hint of accusation in the woman’s brown eyes as she focused on Ethan, her forehead lifted in a questioning crease. “Your name is listed under Father.”

What had Ethan done wrong? He’d always used protection, even back then, never relying on someone else’s methods of birth control. Yet, Monica was frowning at him as though he’d gotten her pregnant. As if her sleeping with him would ever be a possibility now.

Her rich, dark brown hair was piled up into its usual messy ponytail of curls and he preferred her in the snug, turquoise T-shirt all the waitresses at the café sported rather than in the monotone cardigan sweaters she usually wore at the library. Ethan thought Monica had been warming up to him the past month—she’d even begun to smile at him on the mornings she’d pulled extra shifts at the Cowgirl Up. She had a cute little dimple in the side of one cheek and each time he’d caught a flash of it, Ethan felt as though someone had given him a key to Heaven.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t already given plenty of thought to what it would be like to get her out of her clothes completely, to be able to kiss every bit of her light amber skin and hopefully be the one to make her smile, over and over. Judging by her current glare, though, he doubted that he’d ever see that dimple again, let alone find out what was underneath that T-shirt. Maybe he’d dodged a bullet by not asking her out, after all.

“Let me see that.” Carmen took the certificate before studying it. “Yep, your name is definitely on it.”

Ethan walked over to Carmen and scanned the paper over her shoulder. “Trina DeVecchio Renault.” She even had his last name.

“Date of birth, February 8.” Eleven years ago. He didn’t have to do much calculating to know the timing was right. Confusion made the corners of his lips turn down. “But I never signed anything. And my birth date on it is wrong. Hell, I didn’t even know about the girl until today.”

“Well, someone signed off on it and that’s all that matters.” Carmen hooked her thumbs in her leather duty belt. “I would still need to run everything through the system to make sure the document is legitimate, but if it is, then the kinship law would apply here.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Ethan admitted, glancing at Monica to see if she was judging him even more for not knowing anything about family law.

“Technically,” Carmen continued. “This Chantal DeVecchio, assuming she had legal custody of the girl in the first place, gave you temporary guardianship as another family member when she left her in your care. Therefore, the state will recognize you as Trina’s temporary guardian.”

“Is there a note or a paper in there that says she was giving her to me?” Ethan asked, looking at the bag in Monica’s hands.

“No, just two pictures.” Monica held up a photograph of an older woman sitting on the front porch of a mobile home—Trina’s grandmother, perhaps. The second photo was actually on shiny magazine paper and showed a basket full of calico kittens.

Even Ethan had more personal belongings and mementos when he’d shipped off to basic training.

“For whatever it’s worth—” Monica gave a quick glance toward the hallway then lowered her voice to the whisper-soft tone she normally used inside the library “—when I spoke to her in the ladies’ room, she admitted that she would rather stay with you than go into foster care.”

“Then why did she run off?” Ethan tried to whisper back, but it sounded more like an angry hiss.

“Probably because she thought you didn’t want her?” Monica put her hands on her hips and, if Ethan had been in his right mind, he would’ve appreciated the way her defensive stance showed off her lush curves. He’d been trying to get this woman out of her shell for the past few months, yet now that she was finally directing some passion his way, the angry heat in her eyes caused him to take a step back.

“I’d suggest hiring an attorney and making everything legal,” Carmen said, typing something into her smartphone. “But, in the meantime, depending on what the CPS records show, as long as Trina’s not a ward of the court, I feel comfortable releasing her into your custody.”

One advantage to living in a small town was that when people knew you, they didn’t mind giving you the benefit of the doubt. Ethan finally understood the next step he would have to take.

Now, he just needed to convince a scared and abandoned little girl that he was her best option. Too bad he hadn’t convinced himself yet.

Chapter Three

“But what if she changes her mind and doesn’t want to stay with him?” Monica asked Carmen when the two women got downstairs and circled around to the sidewalk in front of Domino’s Deli. “What if she runs away again?”

“Then I’d suggest you let Freckles know that the girl might show up at the Cowgirl Up again. Maybe she thinks of it as a safe space.”

“Does that mean you think she might not feel safe with him?”

“I know you’re worried about the girl.” Carmen placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I can’t predict the future any better than you can, but I got the impression that she ran off the first time thinking she was saving face. You know, getting away before her father could reject her. Kids that age have a tendency to act tough when they’re afraid. When we talked to her back in the restaurant and told her that Ethan was out searching for her and seemed genuinely worried about her well-being, she appeared willing to give him a chance. Listen, Monica, I never would’ve released her into his custody if I thought it wasn’t in her best interest.”

Monica had always liked and trusted the female police officer, who preferred mysteries while her twin sons raced through a couple of Magic Tree House books a week. They’d never really socialized much, but then again, Monica wasn’t much for hanging out with her neighbors or attending the community activities.

She was too busy working two jobs and taking care of Gran. Being pleasant and making small talk with the customers at the restaurant took all the energy she had left. Still, she knew how to keep her eyes and ears open and Carmen Gregson was compassionate with the townspeople, observant on her patrols, and dedicated to her job and family. Everyone in town valued the woman’s opinion.

Looking at her watch, Monica estimated that she had fifteen more minutes before she would have to leave for the library. So she didn’t bother keeping the hesitation from her voice as she asked, “What do you think of Ethan Renault?”

“In what way?” Carmen was a cop and an observer. Like Monica, she probably did her research and analyzed things from all angles.

“As a father, I guess.” Monica stated the obvious when what she really wanted to ask—what she’d really wanted to know for the past few months—was if she was a complete fool for having a teensy tiny crush on the man.

But her ill-advised attraction to Ethan was something she could barely acknowledge to herself. There was no way she would say it out loud. Besides, now certainly wasn’t the time to ask about the guy’s relationship suitability—which had lost all potential anyway the second Trina showed up.

Carmen turned to face her, seeming to look beyond Monica’s forced casual expression and deep down into what her mind was really thinking. Wrapping an arm around her midsection, Monica toyed with the tie of her apron, trying not to feel too exposed.

“He’s one of my husband’s best friends, so keep in mind that my opinion might be a little biased.”

Monica nodded. “Grain of salt taken.”

“When I first met Ethan, I would’ve pegged him for a typical Navy SEAL with a cocky ego and an adrenaline complex. The type of guy who doesn’t mind breaking hearts or breaking bones if it involves having a good time. Although, I’d also pegged Luke the same way and he proved me wrong. I think Ethan has been through a lot and seen a lot, yet doesn’t talk about the darker stuff. Probably hides it behind that flirty smile and arrogant charm.”

So Monica wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the lazy, seductive grin. Or the possibility of a string of broken hearts left in his wake. Resolution made her spine stiffen and her commitment to not fall prey to his flirtatious banter intensified.

“But,” Carmen continued, “I also think he takes his responsibilities seriously and he isn’t afraid of a little adversity. Luke told me that of all his former teammates, Ethan was the one he trusted the most. I know the guy probably doesn’t seem like the fatherly type now, but Trina is in safe hands.”

Monica gave a slight nod as she exhaled, but she still held on to her doubts. Her own father had come and gone from her life many times before he’d finally left for good. She and her mom had lived with Gran until Monica was six, and when her mother passed, Gran seemed to think that her dad might come back to get her. Part of Monica had been terrified that she would have to leave her grandmother and the only home she’d ever known. But the other part of her had been excited that she could have her father back, that she might finally get to experience a dad’s love. Just like Monica, Trina had to be nervous and terrified of what awaited her, but maybe she was just a little excited, too. Excited that she would now get a chance to know the man who made up part of her DNA.

Unfortunately, that excitement would soon fade once Ethan let the girl down. Even with Carmen’s vote of confidence on keeping her safe, there was no way a tried-and-true bachelor like him could change his ways and provide a nurturing home to a preteen who’d just had her world turned upside down.

For Trina’s sake, Monica would hope for the best. But leopards didn’t change their spots. It was a good reminder for the next time she found herself attracted to a man like Ethan. Blowing a curl out of her face, she couldn’t believe that she’d been secretly enjoying his flirtatious banter every Monday and Wednesday when she’d waited on him during her breakfast shift, hoping he’d ask her out.

A crackling sound shot out from the walkie-talkie on Carmen’s duty belt and Monica recognized the dispatcher’s voice through the static. A retiree with a tie-dye shirt and comb-over hairstyle that didn’t fool anyone, Harv Jenkins preferred science fiction and the occasional graphic novel. In addition to being a part-time dispatcher, he also volunteered at the senior citizens center and had always been sweet to Gran, despite the fact that her grandmother hated his comic book drawing classes. But his words today made Monica’s pulse leap. “Be advised, we just got a call about the fire alarm going off at the Alvarez house again.”

The siren from the nearby fire engine rang out and a heavy ball of dread settled in Monica’s stomach, a familiar feeling lately where her grandmother was concerned.

“You want me to drive you in the patrol car?” Carmen offered.

“No thanks.” Monica jogged across the street toward the Cowgirl Up Café and called over her shoulder, “As long as it’s not as bad as last time, I’m going to need my own car to get to work after I check on her.”

She’d already left her shift at the restaurant early to help with Trina. Now she was going to be late to open the library to help with Gran. And it was Western Wednesday, which meant that she only had thirty minutes before the Louis L’Amour book club arrived for their monthly meeting in the reading room.

At this rate, Monica was going to lose both of her jobs. And then where would she and Gran be?

* * *

Trina came out of the bathroom as soon as Monica and Carmen left. Ethan thought about offering to show her around the small apartment, but honestly, there wasn’t much need for a tour at this point. Besides the kitchen and combination living room–dining room, there were only two bedrooms and she’d probably already seen those on her way down the hall.

Plus, she still hadn’t said much directly to him and he didn’t really know what to say either.

He tried to remember what he’d been like at that age. Sullen and defiant and lonely because his dad was often out of town working for days at a time, leaving Ethan alone to fend for himself. Swallowing down his own feelings of resentment, he decided to try a different tactic.

“So, you have a caseworker back home?” he asked. She’d casually mentioned as much back in the kitchen at the Cowgirl Up as though it were no big deal. As though every eleven-year-old had one of those. If she was anything like him, she would try to put on a tough front to cover how scared she was.

Trina shrugged, but at least it was a response.

So much for the small talk. Ethan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the tougher questions he knew he needed to ask. But before he could, she turned to face him, her eyes narrowed with doubt.

“Were you really a Navy SEAL?”

Okay, so if she wasn’t going to talk about herself, maybe he could lure her into a conversation by letting down his own guard. “How did you know that?”

“I’m not blind.” She pointed to a class picture in a frame on his fireplace mantel. Besides the small, fake plant he’d inherited from his dad, it was the only personal item in the room. “It says ‘Basic Underwater Demolition/SEALS Training.’ Plus, Chantal already told me you were in the Navy.”

A jolt of surprise caught him, and not just because the girl referred to her mother by first name. “What else did your mom tell you about me?”

“That you got her pregnant and then took off.”

“Trina...” Ethan took a cautious step forward, dipping his chin so he could catch her eyes. “I want you to understand that I never would’ve left if I’d known about you.” If she didn’t believe anything else about him, he needed her to know that he’d never intentionally abandoned anyone.

Instead of giving any indication that she heard his words, Trina pivoted as she studied everything else in the living room but him. “She once told me that you dated anyone in a skirt.”

Ethan’s throat tightened. Was this how eleven-year-olds talked nowadays? He didn’t want to call her mother’s honesty into question, but he also didn’t like the idea that the deck of lies was already stacked against him. “That’s not exactly a fair assessment, considering we only knew each other for a couple of months and we both were in a rush to act like grownups. I was barely eighteen at the time.”

“That’s how old I’ll be in seven years,” Trina said without looking at him.

Whoa. He did a double take as he realized she was right. He’d already missed more than half of her childhood, more than eleven birthday parties according to the birth certificate in her bag. “So, you just had a birthday, huh?”

“I guess. You know, this apartment is a total dump.”

He followed her gaze down the hall to the second bedroom, which held a creaky twin bed, a cheap dresser and all the cardboard boxes he’d had shipped from his storage unit in San Diego and never got around to unpacking. “Well, it came furnished and I only moved here six months ago. Speaking of which, how did your mom know where to find me?”

That got her attention and her lips went from a pout to a half smirk. “She didn’t. I did.”

Her admission floored him, but before he could ask how, a knock sounded at the door. If Ethan hadn’t already been studying Trina, he would’ve missed the apprehension flashing through her eyes before she hung her head and focused on the toe of her canvas sneaker again.

When he peeked through the peephole, he recognized Kylie Gregson, Kane’s sister, and Mia McCormick. Not only was Kylie related to his boss, she was also the sister-in-law of Ethan’s best friend Luke. Kylie and her best friend Mia wouldn’t come to his house unless it was for a good reason. A knot formed in his stomach and he glanced back to where Trina was standing. He wanted to communicate to her that he couldn’t not answer, but his daughter wouldn’t lift her face.

Daughter. He was still getting used to that word.

The knock sounded again, this time right against his temple which was resting against the door.

Smothering a groan, Ethan twisted the knob and let the women in.

“We can’t stay,” Kylie explained, passing him two paper shopping bags with handles. “But we wanted to drop off some stuff for Sugar Falls’ newest resident.”

If it had been anyone else, Ethan might’ve thought they were looking for an inside scoop. But he played poker on Thursday nights with both of their husbands and knew the women were sincere.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Mostly a hodgepodge of things a girl might need,” Kylie said. Trina must’ve shown some interest from behind him because one of their unexpected visitors looked past Ethan and spoke to his daughter. “Hi. I’m Kylie Gregson. This is Mia McCormick. She owns the dance studio in town.”

Mia lifted up a pink duffel bag. “I know these probably aren’t your style, but there aren’t a ton of shopping options in Sugar Falls besides the sporting goods store and Designs by Doris, which tends to only carry stuff for the...uh...senior generation, shall we say? Anyway, it was the best we could do on short notice.”

The women held up their offerings, but Trina didn’t make a move to take anything. She just stood there in her oversize T-shirt and jeans, her blue eyes were fixated on the bags as if they contained explosives. Ethan should’ve probably accepted them on her behalf, but his brain was still trying to catch up and process how the women not only knew that his daughter needed new stuff, but had gotten everything together so quickly.

“Anyway, I’ll be going into Boise this weekend,” Kylie said, setting the bags inside the entryway, before she took a retreating step onto the landing outside his front door. “So let me know if you want to pick out some different stuff. I’d be happy to take you shopping, if your dad is okay with that.”

With a wink at Ethan, she and Mia were out the door and making their way down the stairs before Ethan could even offer so much as a thanks. He’d yet to think about where he would get suitable clothes for a girl. But apparently, word had already spread about his daughter’s unexpected arrival and her meager possessions. For the second time today, he was the last to figure things out and the feeling left him hollow and powerless.

“I guess my mom was right about women wanting to throw themselves at you,” Trina finally said before slowly approaching the bags Kylie and Mia had left behind.

The back of his neck prickled in defense. “Those ladies are married to some of my good friends.”

Trina shrugged a shoulder, then used a toe to nudge the duffel as though she was looking for a hidden booby trap before she picked it up. Ethan scooped up the bags and carried them the few feet to the ugly orange sofa.

“What about that lady Monica?” Trina asked as she looked longingly at the bags. “Was she just being nice to me because she’s married to one of your friends, too?”

“Monica Alvarez isn’t married,” Ethan replied a bit too quickly, then cleared his throat. And she most definitely wasn’t throwing herself at him. In fact, she’d acted like she couldn’t get away from Ethan fast enough this morning. Which was interesting since, normally, she shut him down with a polite shyness or an indifference that made him want to pursue her even more. Today, though, there was an edge to her that he’d never seen and her anger had been solely directed at him. People didn’t get mad if they didn’t care.

Did that mean that she possibly did care about him? A jolt of energy made its way through his bloodstream and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he thought of how close she’d stood when she was lecturing him in the corner of the Cowgirl Up kitchen. Of how her breasts had jutted forward when she’d—

“All this stuff is brand-new,” Trina said, interrupting the inappropriate turn his thoughts had taken. “It still has tags.”

She pulled out a green down jacket in a ladies’ size extra-small and a pair of black pants made of a waterproof fabric that looked a few inches too long. There were also a couple of plain, long-sleeved T-shirts and a package of thick socks. Trina held the pink duffel upside down and leggings, a wraparound sweater and some sort of white, strappy tank-top thing that looked like a sports bra fell out. He couldn’t be sure because Trina shoved it back into the bag too quickly for Ethan to see, which was just as well.

There was a separate sack at the bottom of one of the brown bags with the name of Lester’s Pharmacy on the front. Inside, Trina found a purple toothbrush and an assortment of body lotions and hair products that smelled way more fruity than anything Ethan kept stocked in his bathroom. Every item strewn across his ugly sofa was another reminder that he had absolutely no idea what a girl her age would need.

He racked his brain trying to think of what he’d required when he was that age. Clothes, food—lots of food—a skateboard, music, video games, friends.

“I guess we should probably get you registered for school,” he said, and this time he was positive that it was panic that flashed across her face. “What grade are you in?”

“I’m really tired.” She shoved the new clothes—the ones he would have to eventually reimburse someone for—onto one cushion at the end of the sofa and plopped down beside them. “Can I take a nap?”

His eyes narrowed at her evasive maneuver to throw him off topic. Although, back when he was that age, he tried to avoid any discussions involving school, as well.

“Yeah. Um, I don’t really have the extra room set up just yet, but you can sleep on my bed if you want. Or right here, I guess. Make yourself at home.” He knew the platitude sounded forced, but he truly hoped that he could make Trina feel welcome. He just didn’t quite know how to do it. “Maybe when you wake up, we can go to the grocery store or something?”

“Whatever,” she replied with a yawn before curling into a ball and using the green puffy jacket as a pillow.

It was only ten in the morning and there were still a million questions Ethan wanted to ask her. But she looked depleted and a little lost and, frankly, he didn’t even know where to begin. As she dozed on the sofa, Ethan opened one of his kitchen cupboards and took stock of the bare shelves. He debated whether or not he should go to Duncan’s Market while his daughter was asleep, but she’d already pulled one vanishing act today. He didn’t want to provide her with an opportunity to pull another.

Daughter. There was that word again, although it was coming to his mind with much more frequency considering the fact he still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced Trina was his. He used the internet search engine on his smartphone and typed in the letters “DNA,” but a wave of guilt crashed into him before he could add the word “test.” It felt wrong to even think about blood tests and genetic proof while she was right there in the room, peacefully sleeping after what she’d been through this morning. It wasn’t like he would get any answers today, anyway. Even if he did, would it change the fact that her mother had already abandoned her and she had nowhere else to go?

He shoved the phone into the back pocket of his jeans and went into the second bedroom to stare at the dozen or so cardboard boxes piled everywhere. The framed picture on his mantel had been a gift from Luke and Carmen when Ethan had moved to town. The sad-looking silk plant beside it was small enough to fit in his rucksack and served as a reminder that no matter where he went, his old man was always with him.

These boxes held the remaining contents of his life, but he couldn’t exactly remember what he’d placed in them before leaving it all in storage. He rolled up his sleeves then hefted one onto his shoulder. He didn’t bother opening any of them as he set to work transferring each box to his own bedroom. Whatever was in them obviously wasn’t something he’d needed in the past six months. Or even longer, considering he’d likely packed them right after that last deployment that had ended in disaster and resulted in his best friend flying home in a flag-draped casket.

He honestly wasn’t sure what he needed anymore. All he knew was what he didn’t need—and that was to have someone else depending on him.

Because the last time he’d been responsible for another person, they’d ended up dying under his watch.

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