Page 19 of To Hold and Protect

He was hoping she’d forget that. “Sunday.” He didn’t go to the station on Sundays unless there was a fire or a serious accident. “Listen, come back for dinner.” He didn’t want to be around her...there was that disturbance thing going on, but he was a jerk for making her think she wasn’t welcome. “You don’t have to miss dinner.”

“Honestly, I have a deadline looming and need to get some words on paper. But thanks.”

“If you’re sure.”

She smiled. “I am.”

“Okay. Everly gets home from school around two. After she has her pickle and changes clothes, Andrew will bring her over.”

“I guess I’ll see you Sunday then. I tend to stay up half the night writing, so I’m not a morning person. After lunch work for my tour?”

“Sure. One o’clock works.” She didn’t say anything to that, and the silence that fell was awkward. “Okay, I’m going now.”

“Okay.”

He almost said okay to her okay but managed to keep his mouth shut. He’d been smoother than this when flirting with his first serious girlfriend when he was fourteen. Not that he was flirting with Willow.

If he didn’t have a show coming up and was running out of time, he’d help with the rest of the demolition because the faster she could get the house ready to sell, the faster she would leave for the beach.

As much as he wanted to deny it, he was attracted to her, and the last woman he’d been attracted to had come close to destroying him. If not for the baby she’d given him, he wasn’t sure he would have recovered from her treachery.

He was sure he never would have picked up a brush and painted again if not for his daughter. Because of Everly, he’d had a reason to face each day, a reason hehadto. He’d smiled again because of her and had found his way back to his art because of her. But never again would he make himself vulnerable to a woman.

“The kebabs are on the grill. Where’s Willow?” Harper said when he returned home.

“Isn’t coming back. Said something about a deadline and that she needed to write.”

She looked at Skylar and some kind of message passed between them. Harper shifted her gaze back to him. “Not buying it.”

“Nope, me either. He said something to keep her from coming back.” Skylar nailed him with a stare that made him feel like he should confess all his sins. “What’d you do, Parker?”

Made her feel unwelcome because he was an ass.

“I want to talk about you knowing our aunt was an artist.” Kade glanced at Tristan. “You, too, right?”

“Yup.”

Four pairs of eyes stared at him, waiting for him to answer all their questions. These people were his family, and he loved them and would die for them, but he had no answers for them, not any he was willing to divulge.

He turned his back on them, went inside the house, made two PBJ sandwiches, put two pickles in a baggie, some chips in another one, and grabbed two root beers. After putting dinner for him and Everly in a plastic bag, he walked back outside, scooped his sleeping daughter up, and went to his studio. Without a word to his brothers and future sisters. He couldn’t deal with them or answer their questions right now. Maybe never.

This turmoil going on inside him like a Cat 5 hurricane was all Willow’s fault. Everything had been fine before she showed up. He had his life distributed into manageable compartments. He was first a father, then he did his job as a firefighter, and he painted. He spent time with his brothers without worrying about spilling secrets. He welcomed the women his brothers had fallen in love with to the family with open arms.

His life was going along without any drama, just the way he wanted. He’d had a lifetime’s worth of drama in France, and all he wanted was to have each day pretty much like the last. Love his little girl, go to the firehouse, paint, drink a few beers with his brothers while talking about much of nothing...rinse, repeat.

Now a woman who had his artist fingers itching to get her freckles right had turned his ordered life topsy-turvy. He had feelings. He loved his baby girl more than he thought he could possibly love anyone. He loved his brothers, even though they were sometimes assholes. He was learning to love his future sisters. He was passionate about his art, and he was a damn good fire chief.

He had everything he needed. He was happy. Not over-the-moon happy.Contentwas probably a better word. But he was satisfied with the life he’d carved out after a woman without an honest bone in her body had done a number on him.

He did not want to be repainting freckles. But that was exactly what he did after lowering Everly to the daybed and telling Ember to watch over her. It didn’t take long to get the freckles right, and now he could get to work on paintings for his show. But first, he needed to wake Everly up and get her to eat some dinner. He grabbed the blanket from the daybed, spread it on the floor, and set up a picnic.

Two hours later, he had his girl fed, bathed, a story read, and put to bed with Ember sleeping at her feet, guarding her. After a trip to the attic and avoiding his family, he slipped out to the studio, hoping to get some painting done before his brothers showed up with their questions.

“Shoulda locked the door,” he said when they walked in. He’d expected them sooner, but they’d given him a few hours to himself.

Tristan snorted. “You do know a lock won’t keep Kade out.”

“Why I didn’t bother. You could pretend I didn’t say anything about Aunt Francine.” Knowing this was a conversation he couldn’t avoid, he slid his brushes into a plastic baggie so they wouldn’t dry out.

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