Dane had been sheriff for long enough that he pretty much always had his shit together. He knew what he needed to say, how he needed to say it, and what he wanted to happen.

But as he walked across the fairgrounds toward Jaimi and her daughter, he had no clue what he was going to say when he got there.

She had something going on with the men he considered his brothers, the men he'd give his life to protect. Zane and Steen had no idea who she was, or why she'd have all their names written down, but there had been no doubt that she'd known exactly who they were once he'd said their names.

He should have been ready to cart her off to jail to interrogate her. But when he'd seen the expression on her face, that look of absolute horror, mixed with indescribable anguish and longing, he'd suddenly decided that he'd been an absolute bastard to drop their names on her like that.

He generally considered himself a pretty good guy, so to feel like such an absolute thoughtless piece of shit was a new experience for him. He didn't care for it all that much, to be honest. He liked being a good guy, and for her especially, that's what he wanted to be. But he also needed to protect the Stocktons. So…what the hell did he do next?

As he neared them, Jaimi stood taller, her arms tightening around her little girl, who was propped on her hip. Her daughter's arms were wrapped around Jaimi's neck, and she was resting her cheek against her mom's shoulder, both females watching him approach.

He realized they weren't going to try to run away. They were standing there, in the middle of the crowd, waiting for him. Waiting for him. Protectiveness surged through him like a fierce fire, and his jaw tightened. He was not a bastard. He was a ruthless cop when he needed to be, yeah, but never a bastard, and not to her.

He took a deep breath as he approached, caught in the power of their stares. The nervousness on Jaimi's face was apparent, and her daughter was watching him with wide eyes, wide blue eyes that… Dane frowned. Damn. Her daughter's eyes looked familiar as well. Who the hell was she?

He looked back and forth between them again. Jaimi's dark eyes were riveting, but it was her cheeks, jaw, and nose that looked familiar. For her daughter, it was those eyes. He absolutely knew them—

"Hi." Jaimi spoke first as he neared, and something inside him turned over at the sound of her voice. It was soft and throaty, a little on edge, a little cautious. Her lips were pale in the cold air, and her breath puffed in soft, white clouds.

She looked brave and vulnerable, and suddenly, he could think of nothing other than pulling her into his arms, folding her against him, and wrapping them both up in his strength.

Son of a bitch. He had to find out what was going on, and fast, because right now, she was a potential threat to his family, not a lost filly needing a home. He stopped in front of her. "You okay?"

Shit. That was his first question? Not a "what's up with you and my boys?" Not a "tell me what's going on?" What kind of sheriff was she turning him into?

She nodded once. "Yeah, fine."

Silence descended, and he knew she was waiting on him, waiting for him to start in on her, but he couldn’t find the words. How could she be a threat? It made no sense, not with how he was responding to her. He'd been around. He knew bad people, and he'd know if she was a problem. But she was hiding things, things that involved people he cared about. He had to figure it out, and get it out of the way, so he could focus on her. "You want to talk about it?"

He blinked at his question. What the hell kind of interrogation was that? That was more like a touchy-feely bonding than a "I need an answer now, and you're going to tell me."

And, as he would have expected, she shook her head. "No."

Her daughter watched him. "Mom's afraid," she whispered to him, in a whisper that was pretty much a bellow. "Gram said we need to help her smack down her inner wimp—"

Jaimi covered her daughter's mouth with her hand. "Emily, shh, baby. Not now."

But Emily had said enough. Dane realized that Emily was right. There was fear in Jaimi's eyes, and also in her daughter's. He remembered all too well the days when his sister had had that same fear in her eyes, and he knew that the only thing either of them needed right now was a sense of safety. "It's okay," he said softly.

Jaimi shook her head. "You have no idea."

"I don't," he agreed. "But I have guns, fantastic aim, and an innate sense of responsibility, so you're in good hands."

She stared at him, and he knew she wasn't buying it…which meant that she truly believed that she was hiding something that he wouldn't like.

Shit.

He had to find out what it was, and fast. Forcing it out of her wasn't the way. He just couldn’t do that to her. Which meant he had to get them comfortable enough to volunteer the information… He glanced past them at the massive, puffy blue and red inflatable Santa's Village maze about a hundred yards away. "As sheriff, I get unlimited passes in the bouncy house." He looked at Emily. "You want to go in?"

A grin flashed across her face, a smile so electric that something inside him lit up. Shit. He had no idea that it could feel so good to make a kid smile. "Yes!" She looked at Jaimi. "Can we, Mom?"

Jaimi was staring at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you were going to ask me about—"

"There's time." He held out his hand toward the bouncy house, inviting them. "Shall we?"

She still didn't move. "I can't—"

Dane swore under his breath and moved closer. "Jaimi," he said gently. "I can tell you're a good person. Whatever it is, it's okay. We'll work it out." He grinned. "Did I mention I'm the sheriff? I pretty much own this town. I'm all you need."

Tears suddenly swam in her eyes. "I can't do this," she whispered.

Emily wrapped her arms around her mom's neck, her face worried. "We're spies," she explained to Dane. "I don't want to be a spy, but mom says we have to be, until—"

"Shh." Dane put his finger over his lips. "Spies don't tell who they are, even to the sheriff. Top secret stuff is important."

Emily stared at him, then giggled. "You're nice. Are the Stocktons nice like you?"

Jaimi sucked in her breath. "Em—"

"Yes, they are." Dane didn't take his gaze off the little girl. "The Stocktons are a bunch of tough guys, but they have great hearts. Super nice. Some of them even have kids like you. They're great dads."

Emily looked up at her mom. "Did you hear that?"

Jaimi nodded, her brown eyes fixed on Dane's. "Really?" she whispered.

"Really." Dane noticed her shoulders relax ever so slightly, and some of the tension around her mouth faded. Satisfaction pulsed through him. He needed her to be okay. He needed both of them to be okay. And he needed to be the one to make them okay. "What do you say, Mom? A little bouncy house? I'll stand guard."

She managed a small smile. "Why are you being so nice?"

Dane gave her a lopsided grin and put on a cowboy drawl. "Well, ma'am, it's my sworn duty to take care of any unescorted women who arrive in this here town. I'll rustle up some grub for y'all, and you can bunk down in my homestead for as long as you need."

Emily giggled, and even Jaimi's smile widened to something almost real. "You're silly."

"Never. This here sheriff ain't got no time fer jokin'. Protecting wayward damsels is serious bizniss, ma'am." He took off his hat and held it over his heart. "First order of bizniss is to get a smile on that li'l filly's face. Time to head over yonder to that bouncy house, Miss Emily."

Emily burst out laughing, and even Jaimi chuckled. "Fine," Jaimi capitulated. "We'll go bounce." She glanced over his shoulder and he knew she was looking at the Stocktons one last time, before turning away.

Dane's feel-good moment from making them smile faded at the reminder that Jaimi and her daughter still carried secrets that he needed to solve. He swore under his breath. As soon as Emily was in the bouncy house, he and Jaimi were going to talk.

He fell in beside them, and Jaimi glanced over at him. Some of the worry in her eyes was gone, and she gave him a small smile, so genuine, appreciative, and vulnerable that he wanted to beat his chest and do some testosterone male bellow, declaring that he would take care of her.

Since he didn't generally engage in chest beating, instead, he set his hand on her lower back. Her gaze shot to his as his hand made contact, and for a beat, he waited to see if she would move away from him. Then her smile widened, and she moved the tiniest bit closer to him, a move so imperceptible that he wouldn't have noticed if he weren't so focused on her.

But he was focused on her, and he did notice. So, he smiled back, let his hand rest more heavily against the small of her back, and wished it was a hell of a lot longer walk to the bouncy house.