Page 54 of To Hold and Protect

“I haven’t broken anyone’s heart, so I don’t have a name for you.” When he’d first seen the dagger stabbed into the heart, the only person he could think of who was unbalanced enough to play games like this was Simone. But why would she? While waiting for Tristan and his CSI to arrive, he’d called Benoit. His old friend had confirmed that Simone was still in France, which was a tremendous relief. Someone was obviously angry because of him, but who and why?

“Well, think hard. Whoever she is, you know her or at least have met her.”

Parker wanted to deny he was the reason for any of this, but his brother was right. He eyed the tree. “It’s going to break Mrs. Stubble’s heart if the tree’s a total loss. How’s she and Josephine supposed to get their firefighter fix?” If the tree was a loss, he’d find someone who could replace it with another full-grown one.

His brother chuckled. “Only you would worry about Mrs. Stubble not getting to grab ass to make her day. I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen that dagger before?”

“That’s the one and only dagger I’ve ever seen in my life.” The knife was ornate and evil looking, like something a villain in a horror movie would wield. “It looks expensive. Think you can trace it back to the store it came from?”

“I’m sure as hell going to try.”

“You know, Kade’s boss or his brother at Talon Security might be able to help you with that.” Chase and Nick Talon had resources that a police department didn’t.

“Good idea.” Tristan took out his phone. “I’ll take some pictures that Kade can send them.”

While Tristan was getting photos of the dagger, Parker tried to think of who hated him this much, and his mind drew a blank. The only woman he’d seen more than once since returning from France was Andrea, and she would never do something like this, nor did she have a reason to.

So who?

After getting Everly to bed, Parker went to his studio to paint. Well, that was the plan. For the first time since getting his desire to paint back, he was blocked. He stared at the blank canvas, and... Nothing.

He grabbed his phone and the baby monitor. When he reached his front yard, he stopped. He couldn’t just barge over to Willow’s because he felt like it. Also, he should stop lying to himself. He didn’t just feel like seeing her, he needed to. And that was him falling in love. No, that was the old him. The new him turned around to go back to the studio. He wasn’t blocked. It was just the shitty day that was messing with him, and he didn’t need to see Willow.

Not two steps across his yard, his phone chimed with a text.

Were you coming over to see me, or are you just ambling around in your yard?

He read the text and laughed.

Full disclosure. Haven’t a clue. Been a bad day.

Come tell me about it.

There was nothing he wanted to do more. He didn’t bother responding, just turned around and went to her. She was on her swing, her laptop resting on her legs...her long, sexy legs, which his eyes immediately landed on, and his artist eye wondered if a canvas with nothing but legs that ended with their feet in cowboy boots would be too weird to paint.

He stopped in front of her. “I need to stop wanting to paint you.” Damn his wayward mouth. But that beautiful smile of hers at hearing his confession had him sitting down next to her—right next to her so that their bodies were touching—even though his brain was ringing warning bells. He ignored them.

“I already told you, you can paint me whenever you want.” She leaned against him. “Even nude if you want, but that one you’d have to give to me so no one saw it but me and you.”

Like he’d let anyone else see her nude. “I should have brought my sketchbook and charcoal.” That was how he’d do a nude of her, in shades of gray and white.

She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry you had a bad day. I had a great one. Want to come see my new stove and fridge? I’m dying to test the oven.”

“You haven’t had dinner?” It was pretty late.

“I didn’t know Buddy was installing the appliances today, so when he did, I stopped at the Kitchen for a bowl of soup and Katie’s amazing bacon, apple, and Gruyère sandwich for dinner. Then I went shopping for the ingredients to make my favorite cookies. Want to help me make them?”

He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do. Turned out she was serious about cookies. They made four batches, one for now, one for him to take home, and two for what she called her writing fuel.

“Taste,” she said, holding out a cookie from the first batch, still warm from the oven.

“Mmm, that’s really good.” He’d turned up his nose when she said her favorite cookies were oatmeal chocolate cherry. It wasn’t a combination he would have thought to try.

“Told ya.”

What he really liked about baking cookies was all the laughing and kissing they’d done. He’d needed that, both the kisses and the laughter.

“Let’s take them out to the porch. Would you rather have coffee or a beer with them?”

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