Page 23 of To Hold and Protect

Everly rolled her eyes, which, in a five-year-old, Willow thought was the cutest thing. “I’m always good, Daddy.”

“That’s debatable. You two have fun.” He took a step back, then stopped. “I should give you my phone number in case you want to send her home earlier.”

“I won’t, but probably a good idea.” She gave him her number.

“Okay, I just texted you, so you’ll have mine.”

Her phone was on the dining room table, and she heard it chime with a text message. “Got it.”

“Well, have fun.” A lopsided smile appeared on his face. “I said that already, didn’t I?”

She wanted to say, “Who are you, and what did you do with Mr. Grouchy Pants?” Instead, she said, “You can never wish too much fun on anyone.”

“Guess not.” His eyes connected with hers, and she could swear the air crackled around them. What was that about? He lowered his gaze to his daughter. “Love you, ladybug.” With that said, he left.

“Do you like my daddy?” Everly asked as they watched Parker jog across the yard.

“Of course.” She was still processing that he’d smiled at her, an honest-to-goodness real one and not a fake one. What was up with that? Also, he’d left Everly with her without him or Andrew supervising. Did that mean he trusted her now?

Not sure where Everly was going with her question, Willow said, “Let’s go inside. We can have some cookies and juice while we draw.”

“Yes! And you can tell me a story. I love stories, Miss Willow. Do you write good ones?”

“I like to think so. Why don’t you get your drawing stuff set up on the dining room table while I get our snack?”

“What do you want to draw, Miss Willow? I only brought my colored pencils because it’s too messy to bring my paints. Daddy only lets me paint in the studio. What story are you going to tell me? Does it have a princess in it? And pickles!”

This girl and her exuberance were delightful. “I have an idea. What if I tell you a story and you draw it?” Since she couldn’t draw worth beans.

“Oooooh, yes!” Everly clapped her hands. “You have good ideas, Miss Willow.”

“I try. So, do you want a princess story or a magic dragon one?”

Everly pressed a finger to her lips and lifted her gaze to the ceiling. After a few seconds of thinking, she threw her hands out. “I thought I wanted a princess one, but a magic dragon one is better. Do you have a picture of a dragon for my inspiration?”

Willow grinned. How many five-year-olds even knew whatinspirationmeant, much less how to use it in a sentence? She could fall in love with this little girl. “Here, I’ll find one on my phone for you.”

“He’s green,” Everly said when Willow showed her a photo of a dragon. “Can mine be pink ’cause she’s a girl dragon?”

“She can be whatever color you want her to be. Do you know what an illustrator is?” When Everly shook her head, Willow said, “An illustrator is an artist who draws pictures to go with a story. Like in some of your books where there’s pictures that go with the story. An author tells the story, and the illustrator draws the pictures that go in the book. That’s us. I’m the author, and you’re my illustrator.”

“Is it like a job? My daddy has a job. I want a job.”

“Yes, it’s a job. So, this is how it works. I’ll start telling our dragon story, and as soon as you feel inspired, you start drawing. Okay?”

Everly opened a sketch pad, arranged her colored pencils to her liking, then gave Willow a thumbs-up. “Ready!”

It was beyond adorable how the sweet girl talked in exclamation points and yelled half her conversations. An idea sprouted of a girl who was cursed by...well, who she was cursed by Willow would figure out later, but she was cursed to yell everything she said, and the magic quill would somehow help her talk normally so the other kids would stop making fun of her.

Willow had never had a muse, but she thought she’d found her first one. Parker better not decide she couldn’t spend time with Everly, or he’d have an epic battle on his hands.

“I said I was ready, Miss Willow. You can start our story now.” Everly raised her brows in a perfect imitation of how her father had as he’d stood on the porch, delivering his daughter.

Instead of peppering kisses all over the cutest little girl in the world’s face, and instead of laughing in delight with that little girl, Willow solemnly nodded as she turned on her phone’s recorder. “All right, this is Serafina the pink dragon’s story.” She changed her voice to the one she used when reading her books to preteens. “Serafina the dragon was pink. You might think that was a good thing since pink is such a pretty color, but in the dragon world, if you were pink, you were a weak dragon. All her life, Serafina had been laughed at, and that especially hurt her because a dragon tournament—”

“What’s a tournament?”

“A contest. In our story, the dragons are playing games in the tournament, and the prize is a treasure chest of gold and shiny stones like diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. Did you know dragons love treasures, and the shinier the gold and gems are, the happier they are? Serafina was told she couldn’t help her family try to win the treasure because she was pink and weak.”

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