Page 31 of To Hold and Protect

“Miss Willow!”

Parker chuckled at the impatience in his daughter’s voice. “You better go look at her work, Miss Willow.” He followed her to Everly’s worktable. Her sundress was sleeveless and dipped down past her shoulder blades in the back. In his mind, he mixed the colors that would re-create on canvas the creamy white of her arms and shoulders. Was her skin as soft as it looked, her hair as silky?

He would drape her in emerald green silk that matched her eyes and paint her from the back as she looked over her shoulder at her lover, her green eyes darkened and shimmering with desire. Her strawberry blond hair would be wild and tangled and her lips would be swollen and damp from her lover’s kisses. She’d be standing in front of a window with panes and pale blue distressed wood, and the moonlight would cast a silvery light over her. The silk she was draped in would be billowing from the breeze flowing through the open window. Her lover would be a mere shadow in the painting, a faceless man watching her as he sat in a wooden hardback chair. Behind him would be a small bed, the pure white satin covers mussed from the man making love to her.

The man was him. He blinked at that thought. No, it would never be him, but his fingers twitched with the need to paint the image in his mind.Willow in the Moonlight.

Ah, hell. He’d titled it, wouldn’t be able not to paint it now. It wouldn’t be a piece for his show, and he didn’t have time for detours. Detour he would, though, probably starting tonight. He’d just have to paint faster on the show pieces. Of the five he’d needed to reach his goal, two were finished, the one on the easel was halfway there, and then two to go. He could manage it if he didn’t get any more Willow inspirations and the arsonist didn’t keep interrupting his schedule.

“These are amazing,” Willow said as she bent over the table where Everly had her drawings spread out.

Parker brought his mind back to their conversation. Everly had refused to show him her finished illustrations before Miss Willow saw them. As he studied them now, the wordprodigycame to mind, and he didn’t like it. He wanted a normal life for his daughter, not some phenomenon that the public would put under a microscope the way Simone had been as a child. The adoration, the scrutiny, and the public’s erroneous belief that she belonged to the world had, in the end, done irreparable damage to a woman who came to crave the attention and to believe anything was hers for the taking, no matter who it hurt.

Over his dead body would he allow the same thing to happen to Everly. He was profoundly thankful that Simone wasn’t aware of Everly’s talent, because being her mother wouldn’t stop her from exploiting Everly to her benefit. That was another reason he wouldn’t allow his daughter’s name to become public. If Simone ever got a whiff of Everly’s talent, she’d be on their doorstep demanding custody of his baby girl. And Everlywashis. All Simone had done was birthed her. End of story.

“Can we make a book, Miss Willow? Your story and my pictures?”

Willow lifted her gaze to his, her brows raised.

He shook his head. “No,” he mouthed. He put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Did you show Miss Willow what you’re painting now?”

“Oh!” Everly jumped up from her chair. “Come over here and look, Miss Willow.” She took Willow’s hand, taking her to her easel.

Parker picked up one of Everly’s illustrations. A dainty pink dragon with a pink bow in her hair and pink dangling earrings—he smiled at that little touch—crouched over a treasure chest of gems, a triumphant smirk on her face. Damn, she was good. When she was at the age that Simone couldn’t take her away, he would tell her the story of Parker, Simone, and Everly. After that, he’d support whatever she decided to do. Put her art out in the world or not if that was what she wanted. Until then, he’d do what was best for his daughter.

“...and the ladybug fairy comes in while I’m sleeping and draws a ladybug in my pieces.”

He’d missed the beginning of their conversation, but he smiled at the part he was hearing. When would the day come when she’d realize there wasn’t a Santa or a ladybug fairy? He hoped never. He set the illustration down with the others. Everly’s sixth birthday was in two weeks. Maybe for a present he’d get with Willow and have a book made of their story, just for the two of them. His baby girl would go bananas over that. He’d do it if Willow promised not to tell anyone about Ev.

Tristan and Skylar walked in, and he met them at the door. Tristan glanced over at Willow and Everly. “They seem to be getting along.”

“Like two peas in a pod.” A part of him was happy about that because there was nothing he loved more than seeing Everly happy. The other part wanted to drag his daughter away and wipe her memory of ever knowing a cowboy-boot-wearing, free-spirited woman. But it was good for Everly to know someone like that, right? He felt like he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

Skylar drifted away to join Willow and Everly, and instantly the three of them had their heads together. He resented how easily Willow fit in with the people he loved when he was determined to ignore her. They liked her, so they’d find ways to bring her into the family, which would make it next to impossible to pretend she didn’t exist. Painting her wasn’t helping either.

“You got that drawing ready for me?” Tristan asked.

Parker tore his gaze away from studying the way Willow’s hair curled around her neck and shoulders. “Yeah. Let me get it.” He walked to the other side of the room to get the sketch, and when he returned, Tristan had joined the women and Skylar was gushing over Everly’s illustrations. He’d drawn two pictures of the man he remembered from the show, one with the short hair he’d had at the time, and another with a ponytail. When he handed the sketch to his brother, Willow glanced at it.

“Can I see that?” she said. After examining it, she handed it back. “I might have seen this man. Who is he?”

“Let me see.” Everly reached for the sketch.

Parker’s first reaction was to snatch it away, to not let ugliness touch his daughter, but what if she saw him at some point? “If you ever see that man, you need to come tell me right away. Or one of your uncles or aunts.”

“Okay,” she said, then, the photo forgotten, she turned back to her illustrations.

There hadn’t been any fingerprints on the Polaroid or mason jar, and he’d called the gallery owner, hoping to get a name but had not lucked out there. Lawrence hadn’t even remembered the man and hadn’t saved the security camera videos from back then. They needed to find out how and where Willow had seen him, but he didn’t want to talk about the man anymore in front of Everly. It was enough that she’d seen his picture and knew to tell someone if she ever saw him, and he hoped to God that she never did. He glanced at Skylar. His future sister-in-law was good at reading people, and she nodded.

“Everly, your uncle and I are spending the night here, but I need to get a few things from our loft. Want to go with me? We’ll make a stop for ice cream on the way back.”

“Yes! I want ice cream so bad. Miss Willow, you want to come with us?”

Parker gave a slight shake of his head.

“I can’t tonight, sweetie, but next time. Okay?”

“Promise?”

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