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"You bet. Dinner this weekend?"

"Of course." Every Sunday, all the Harts who were in town gathered at one of their houses for dinner. They all had houses on the ranch. They were often joined by a Stockton or two, which was the family one of their sisters had married into. The Stocktons were a good bunch, and the families were already close.

"All right." Brody bumped his fist lightly against the door, then turned and left.

The minute the door closed behind him, Keegan sat down again and pressed his hands to his forehead. Sascha was dead. All this time, she'd been dead. And her daughter…

He picked up the christening photograph again and studied it, but it was too grainy to see if the baby had his eyes or jaw or anything that looked like him.

Not that it mattered. That had all ended fifteen years ago, and what might have been was long since past.

CHAPTER TWO

"Mom! Wake up! Mom!"

Sofia Navarro bolted awake, jolted to alertness by her daughter's urgent whisper. "What is it?"

Her first thought was that he had found them, and she started reaching for the nightstand, for the gun she still kept there, even after all these years. Instead of the gun, her hand hit the stuffed Santa Claus and knocked it to the floor. "What's wrong?"

"It's midnight. It's time." Gabby was leaning over her, her dark eyes shadowed in the night.

Sofia stared at her daughter, her tension easing at the expression on her daughter's face. Whatever it was, it wasn't life threatening. With a sigh of relief, Sofia propped herself up on her elbows, trying to catch up to what was happening. "It's time for what? Christmas isn't for a week, so no presents yet."

"To tell me who my dad is."

Sudden alarm gripped her. "What?"

Gabby sat down on the bed. "You always said that when I was sixteen, you'd tell me who my dad was. As of five seconds ago, I'm sixteen. So it's time."

Sofia flopped back on the bed and put her pillow over her face. "I told you that when you were ten years old."

"I have a memory like a steel trap." Gabby poked Sofia's hip. "It's time."

Sofia pulled the pillow down and studied her daughter. Sofia's long, dark hair was pulled forward over one shoulder, and her olive skin was luminous in the dim light. God, she loved her kid. "Happy birthday, baby girl. Do you want your present? It's an heirloom I've been holding onto for you since you were born—"

"Mom. I want to know who my dad is."

"You're irritatingly persistent."

Gabby grinned. "I learned it from you, Mom. I wouldn't be a good daughter if I didn't make you follow through on the promises you didn't actually mean when you said them."

Sofia wrinkled her nose. "Deep dark secrets are usually best left alone."

"How can it be dark? It created me, and I'm sparkly sunshine, right?"

"You are very sparkly," Sofia agreed as she leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. They both blinked at the sudden light. Her room was filled with Christmas decorations, a season she always loved, but right now, those good feelings were hidden in a sea of "uh, oh." "Knowing his name won't change anything. You're perfect and beautiful exactly as you are."

Gabby let out a sigh. "Mom, you've drilled my self-worth into me since I was born. I get that I don't need a dad. But I deserve to know who he is." She shrugged. "Even if he's a serial killer, it's okay. I'm fine with that. I just want to know."

"He's not a serial killer."

"Great. Then it's all good." Gabby gestured with her hand. "Let it all out. It's time."

Sofia grabbed her glasses from the nightstand and put the bright blue frames on. Her daughter's face came into perfect focus, and she saw the desperation in Gabby's eyes. Desperate, urgent longing that was almost painful.

She sighed, realizing that, despite her best efforts to brainwash Gabby about the irrelevance of dads everywhere, the teenager had developed her own opinion. Teenagers, right? "Gabriella, he doesn't know you exist."

Gabby rolled her eyes. "You told me that already. Repeatedly. Trust me, I know that."