Page 17 of To Hold and Protect

Next to her, Kade smiled at his girlfriend. “Creative minds are fascinating. I’ve never understood where Parker’s paintings come from. Neither Tristan nor I have a creative bone in our body. No one in our family did as far as I know.”

“Our aunt was an artist,” Parker said.

Tristan’s eyes widened. “Say what now?”

“Huh?” Kade grunted.

By the way Parker was frowning as if he hadn’t meant to say that, the reaction of his brothers, and how Skylar and Harper glanced at each other, this news was something big. Willow’s intrinsic curiosity wanted to know what the story was, because there was one here.

Parker shifted his gaze to hers. “You want to go hang that hook now?”

There was pleading in his eyes that she couldn’t refuse. “Sure.”

While they’d been talking, and probably bored with the conversation, Everly had scooted off her father’s lap and had lain down on the deck in the middle of the three dogs. Willow glanced down at her to see the little girl was asleep with the dogs wrapped around her as if protecting her. An idea for a scene in one of her magic quill books formed in her mind, and she took a mental picture.

Parker stood. “I have to get a hook. Be right back.”

“Did you know that?” Tristan asked Kade after Parker went to the building with all the windows and skylights.

“I did not. How could we not know that?”

Tristan shrugged. “I never saw her paint.”

“About the only thing I saw of her was her back as she closed herself up in her rooms as soon as we got home from school,” Kade said. He glanced at Willow. “Sorry for the bit of family drama, but that was a bomb Parker dropped.”

“No problem. I’ll just go wait for Parker at home so you guys feel free to talk. Tell Parker to come on over.”

“You’re coming back, right?” Skylar said. “The guys are going to start the grill soon.”

“Oh, sure. See you in a few.” Although she’d love to stay and learn more about the family, especially Parker, she was an outsider. Whatever that bomb that Parker had dropped meant, she knew they wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about it in front of her.

She was a writer, and people’s personal stories interested her, often spurring her imagination. She sensed that the Church brothers had an interesting story to tell. Obviously, they didn’t like the aunt, but where was their mother, their father? She’d love to know why Parker knew something about their aunt that his brothers didn’t. And more than ever, she wanted to see Parker’s art.

Parker arrived a few minutes behind her, and she showed him the spot Everly had picked out. “Your daughter’s quite the artist, especially for her age.”

“Yep.” He’d brought a picture hook that adhered to the wall and a level.

“I was just going to hammer a nail in the wall.” She wasn’t, but she had a feeling that would get her the look he was giving her right now—disdain and almost an eye roll—and she hadn’t been able to resist. She’d never before had a desire to rile a man up like this, yet she thought he needed riling up.

“Done,” he said after hanging Everly’s painting on the hook.

Willow stepped back and admired it. “Perfect. It’s my first piece of art. When she’s famous and her paintings are selling for millions, I’ll be able to look at this and remember the sweetest little girl I ever knew.”

For a few seconds, his eyes softened, then he tore his gaze away from hers. “You don’t have to come back to the house if you don’t want.”

“Reading between the lines, something I’m pretty good at, you don’t want me to, right?”

“It’s not you.”

She laughed. “Man, is that ever an overused line.” It was almost as if he was afraid of her, and somehow, she was going to find out why. “I’ll send my excuse to miss dinner back with you on three conditions.”

Wariness crept into his eyes. “Those would be what?”

“That you let me be friends with Everly—” she shook her head when he opened his mouth, to protest, she was sure, and he snapped it closed “—and you let her come over tomorrow so I can show her my quill. I don’t want to disappoint her. That you show me some of your paintings, and that you give me a tour of your house.” She threw her arms out at the mess she’d inherited. “I need to get this place ready to sell, and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. On top of that, I’m on a deadline, so the faster I figure out what to do with it, the better.”

“What’s the hurry?”

“I need to sell it so I can move to the beach.”

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