Evander waited at the stop sign behind Daphne’s flower-painted van. The woman was something, that was for sure. She’d just led an early morning awareness rally about protecting watersheds as sleepy-eyed hydroelectric workers trickled past her and into their building, avoiding her and her gang of protesters. He’d never seen anyone come alive the way Daphne had, shouting and whipping up the crowd, spouting off facts that had even him looking sideways at the power company. That woman needed to find a bigger platform, because if she could get a man like him to care about fresh water, she could change the entire world.
Which made her all the more dangerous for a group like Rubicore and, therefore, meant she was that much more in need of protection.
He followed Daphne into Bala, mindlessly steering his truck along the town’s curving streets. She hadn’t tried to shake him off yet today and he took it as a good sign. Maybe having a few hours to think over what had happened yesterday had given her a much needed introduction to reality. Although, possibly, she was simply using him as a buffer between her and the reporter who’d been quietly taking photos of her all morning.
Evander visually swept the quiet streets for signs of danger. Did he have enough security on Daphne and the girl? Carrying Tigger into the house last night had felt so very real. In that brief moment he’d allowed himself to wonder if he could ever have something like that—the privilege of carrying his offspring into the home he and the love of his life had created.
Then again, who was he kidding? Having offspring would ensure he’d be in a perpetual state of alertness, everything becoming a danger. The kid would either have no life due to his restrictiveness or Evander would die of stress.
War had ruined him. He no longer had the little piece of humanity that would allow him to be a husband or father who reacted the proper way.
Shuddering, he blasted the AC, hoping to prevent a horrid flashback from his first tour of duty, where he’d seen children…no, don’t let the memory in. Bury it. He was here. He was safe. That was in the past and he’d done all he could to improve the lives of others.
His head hurt as though rocked by an explosion and he lost the flashback battle, falling into a whirling pool of acidic horrors ranging across years of duty. He pushed his way out of it, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth were grinding together like broken rocks.
Evander unfolded his fingers from the steering wheel, regulating his breathing. The flashbacks were getting better. He hadn’t lost sight of Daphne. Hadn’t crashed his truck. He had to have faith that this wasn’t just a quick reprieve before the flashback roller coaster dunked him under again, causing him to fight with everything he had in order to see the light, to breathe and stay alive.
Daphne pulled up at the Bala farmers’ market, which hadn’t yet started. He was no good to her in this state. He needed to get it together.
She put her van in reverse, preparing to back into a parking spot, and he sighed in relief. Good. Ready for a fast getaway. At least one of them was with it.
However, she continued backing up until she was in line with a row of tables. Evander, unsure what she was doing, stopped his truck next to her. He would have preferred if she’d placed her van closer to the main entrance, but they could discuss good parking habits once she was a bit more receptive. This was a fair enough start.
Evander leaped out of his truck and opened her van’s side door, noting that his hands were still trembling from the flashback jaunt through Memory Lane’s house of horrors. As soon as the door slid wide enough, Tigger bounced out. The girl was like a trick can. Open it and she sprang out.
“Thanks, mister,” she said as she bounded over to stand by her mother.
Daphne opened the back of the van, unloading paintings that smelled of fresh paint. She was a vendor. Which meant he was losing his edge. This should have come up in his background search, shouldn’t it?
He was stuck between worlds. No longer a JTF 2 with an edge sharpened to precision, ready to be used at a split second’s notice, and no longer a civilian able to chill out and blend in.
He leaned two tall canvases against the side of his truck. “Are you selling these?”
Daphne nodded.
“You painted them?”
She nodded once more.
Again, shouldn’t a hobby of this magnitude have come up?
“How do you find the time?” he asked.
She gave a wan smile and he gave her a closer look. He knew being a single mom was tough going, but today her weariness was similar to a heavy cloak pulling her down. It wasn’t bags under the eyes or paleness like most people, it was a waning of the larger-than-life vitality he’d come to know as purely Daphne.
“I haven’t been able to sleep much lately.”
He felt conflicted. If she wasn’t sleeping it could mean she was actually concerned about her welfare and might cooperate. However, he also knew sleep deprivation was an effective form of torture that he wouldn’t wish on anyone, and could result in poor judgment.
“Mom, can I get some cotton candy?” Tigger asked, tugging at her mother’s dress.
“No sugar this early in the morning. There are apples in the van.”
“Do you have any candy?” Tigger asked Evander, a hopeful look in her eyes.
“Do I look like the kind of man who carries candy? That stuff will rot your teeth.”
“No, it won’t. I brush two times a day.” She held up two fingers as though that would buy her a yes.
“Have the apple. It will make you feel better.”
“I’m not sick. Who are you?”
“Evander de la Fosse.” He held out his hand and she gave it a solemn shake. “You’re Kimberly, right?”
She made a face. “Everyone calls me Tigger.”
“Right then. Tigger. Nice to meet you.”
Daphne was unloading paintings, not paying attention. He wasn’t really sure what, if anything, she had told her daughter about him shadowing them, and was afraid he’d end up saying something wrong.
“Why are you here?” Tigger asked.
“I’m helping your mom.” He turned to Daphne, arms outstretched. “Hand them here. I’ll carry them.”
Tigger, obviously knowing the drill, toted aluminum easels to a grassy area in front of the open van, not at all dejected from her sugar shutdown. “You were at our house,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’m helping your mom.”
“Why?”
“Because she needs help.” Man. This kid was determined—just like her mother.
Evander faced Daphne. “Do you sell many?” He propped the paintings on easels, one eye on the reporter who was snapping the occasional photo. He’d talked to Austin Smith earlier and the reporter-photographer had been corporative, agreeing to keep Evander in the loop if he saw anything odd going on. The man had shown the appropriate amount of concern for Daphne and Tigger, making Evander believe he might actually be on their side.
“Sometimes I sell a few. I only just started trying to sell them,” Daphne admitted, her lower lip tucked under her top teeth as she stared at one of her paintings.
Okay, so he wasn’t that rusty at background checks. This was a new thing. He could work with that.
He followed Daphne’s gaze to the painting, of a bright sunflower on an intense blue background. Stormy yet beautiful. She’d captured the ethereal light before a storm where everything is dangerous, the potential for life or death crackling in the sky.
He needed to have this painting. He opened his wallet and realized he didn’t have enough on hand for something this incredible. Putting it away again, he lifted the painting off its easel, tucking it back in the minivan.
“What are you doing?” Daphne asked, drawing herself up. “Tigger and I are perfectly safe here in the crowd.” She glanced at her daughter and lowered her voice. “You said so yourself.”
“That one’s mine.”
“Oh.” She came up short, surprise blanking her expression. “But you haven’t paid for it.”
“I’ll pay for it tomorrow. It’s mine.”
“You don’t even know how much it costs.” She narrowed her eyes, arms crossed. “Are you taking pity on me?”
“No. And that one’s mine. Have a problem with that?” He crossed his own arms and stared her down.
He’d never been an art guy, but that painting hit him in a place he couldn’t explain. He needed to have it. It was that simple. His eye caught another sunflower, a smaller one. It had a red background, and streaks of pink in the yellow petals. “This one, too.” He packed it away, knowing his mother would like it.
“You don’t have to do this,” Daphne said, unpacking the painting again.
“I’m not doing anything.” He pushed it back into the van. “Is this how you treat all your customers?”
“You’re not a customer, because you haven’t paid for them.”
He crossed his arms once more and sat on the bumper of the van’s open hatch, not budging, blocking her access to the paintings he’d claimed.
“Fine.” Daphne threw up her hands, not looking nearly as delighted as he figured an artist who’d just sold two paintings should look.
He thought he heard her mutter something about impossible men before turning back to her other paintings.
“Yeah? Well, they go well with impossible women,” he retorted.
“I am not going well with you.”
“You could say that again.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hey, I’m just a friendly guy.” Who was armed and lethally dangerous.
Always armed.
She snorted, heading to talk to an early customer, ending their fun banter.
The market crowd slowly began to ebb and flow around them and there was one man in a tan jacket who kept staring at the paintings, his mind obviously elsewhere. Evander watched him, his gut telling him the man was eavesdropping on Daphne. Evander moved through the paintings, circling around to stand behind the man. She was talking about things she thought a developer was doing wrong. Typical Daphne stuff, from what he’d learned.
He sidled up beside the man and cleared his throat, making him jump. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Austin had snapped a shot of the eavesdropper. Very nice. If Evander needed a photo to help identify the man later, he was set. Maybe there was a way to get the reporter on Tyrone’s payroll. They could always use an extra set of eyes and this guy seemed to always be around.
“That one your favorite?” Evander asked the lurker.
Daphne, oblivious, chirped away with some scruffy, skinny hippie type. Another thing to talk to Daphne about—what she said where and to whom. The list was going to be endless by the time Evander got her back into the protection of her house at the end of the day.
The eavesdropper nervously glanced at the sunflower with the wilted petals. “Yeah. Yeah, I like it.”
“Just bought two today myself. She’s great. Shall I wrap this one up for you? I can ask the artist for a deal if you want to add in one of her framed sketches over there. They’re a great gift for the woman in your life.” Evander raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. He stood a little closer, well aware that he was intimidating the smaller man.
“They are very affordable,” Evander continued. “I can tell you have exquisite style sense. Shall I package up both, or just this one?”
The man gave a wobbly smile. “Just this one.”
Evander made the sale, winking at Daphne, who’d quirked her head at him. He would not be introducing this man to the artist. Making sure he kept chatting him up, Evander guided him away from Daphne’s booth, handing off the painting at the last moment.
“Did you just sell the worst painting in the batch?” she whispered, coming up alongside him.
“Apparently.”
Eyes twinkling, she gave him a tight hug that just about cracked a rib. “Thank you!”
He rubbed his side, reassessing the slight woman. Where on earth did she hide all that strength?
“Your hugs should be a weapon.”
She gave a rich laugh that tickled him, almost making him want to smile.
He glanced around, tension seeping into his veins. “Where’s Tigger?”
“I sent her to get pepperoni.”
“What?” He clenched Daphne’s shoulder, making her squeak. He quickly scanned the area, unable to spot the girl’s pink party dress. “You need to keep her in sight at all times.”
When would this woman get it through her head that she and her daughter were in danger?
“Evander.” There was a warning in her voice, suggesting he was overreacting. He was not overreacting.
The eavesdropper would not have bought that painting had he not been trying to cover the fact that he’d been busted by Evander. Add in the gun incident yesterday, the custody battle, as well as how the sisters were attacking Rubicore’s livelihood, and his blood boiled with danger in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.
They were separated. Everyone was vulnerable. He grabbed Daphne’s arms. “This is serious. Never let her out of your sight. Ever.”
“That’s no way to live.”
“It’s the only way to live right now, Daphne. The only way to ensure there’s a tomorrow to live in.” He gave her a brief shake, then released her so he could sprint through the crowds, hoping he wasn’t too late.
* * *
Evander took the narrow residential road to the beach’s boat launch and park, uncomfortable with the sloping dead end that would have them pinned against the Indian River with no escape. There was one exit. One. And anyone could easily block it.
He’d found Tigger at the farmers’ market pepperoni stand and had whisked her away, ignoring the unimpressed look from both Summers when he’d sat them side by side and told them to never leave his sight without permission. Ever. Again.
His growing sense of unease was not helped by the fact that he was certain Daphne had tried to shake him en route from Bala to Port Carling. She had some good moves, but there weren’t a lot of places to shake him between the two small towns had made it futile. That and the fact that he had hours of training, whereas she had none. Something was up, but he didn’t know if it was her feeling ticked for him telling her off or if she was planning to do something he’d dislike.
His gut told him it was the latter.
The effects of his earlier flashback were catching up with him and he yawned, wishing for a nap. Just before the boat launch he spun his truck around, parking it along the edge of the grass to ensure it was aimed up the road. He got out and made a twirling motion with his finger, telling Daphne to turn around as he had. She rolled her eyes, but laughed as she complied, her good mood from selling three paintings at the market keeping her buoyed. He was not that easily fooled, though. She’d tried to ditch him, and her body language didn’t have its usual lightness. It was as though each movement was carefully thought out ahead of time so as not to reveal what she was hiding. It was a basic interrogation skill—watch body language for tightness. He’d just never thought he’d be using it in a domestic matter.
C’est la vie. Real life.
With a practiced eye, he scoped out the playground, park, boat launch, river, and treed residential area for places someone could hide—friend or foe—as well as possible escape routes. He held out a hand to help Daphne out of her van, then unleashed Tigger, who had been struggling with the door. The girl burst forth, sprinting for the play equipment shaped like a fortress. He would have loved playing here with his brother when he was a kid, but instead he’d grown up in the city, where things were busy, sterile and a whole lot less fun.
“You don’t have to stay,” Daphne was saying. “I’m sure you have lots of things to do today. We’re just going to hang out and play for a while.”
He stretched and ran a hand through his hair. “A man can always use more vitamin D.”
She was definitely up to something.
Daphne leaned into her van and looked at the dash clock. She stared at it as though contemplating something, her lower lip pinned between her teeth.
There was no way he was going anywhere but where she was. And if she thought she could outwait him, good luck. He’d spent twelve days in scorching desert heat waiting outside an enemy bunker for just the right moment. This would be nothing.
“Hungry?” Daphne asked, tossing him an apple.
He caught the red delicious and took a large bite before saying, “Thank you.”
She took a bite of her own, watching him as his gaze flicked from her to their surroundings, then back again.
“Are you always thinking of ways to escape?” she asked. “Always on the lookout for enemies that might need a weapon waved at them?”
“It’s my job.” He gave her a cold, steely glance and with satisfaction saw it hit home, making her shiver. “Have you noticed you’re being followed by a reporter?”
Daphne glanced around, her eyebrows puckered over her bright blue eyes. Her face relaxed when she spotted Austin. “That’s Austin Smith. He’s paparazzi.”
Now Evander was ticked off. The man hadn’t been fully honest. Reporters and paparazzi were two entirely different things. Plus, Daphne knew more than he did. That small fact was becoming increasingly familiar. And not a good kind of familiar.
“He’s an old family friend,” Daphne said brightly, and Evander was certain she knew just how much this was bothering him. “Rick Steinfeld might come around soon, too. They’re trying to help.”
“In what way?”
“Melanie convinced them to help with the publicity angle. To help Mistral see that I’m not a threat.” She waved her hand dismissively, not expanding on what was going on.
“More info, please.”
“Oh, you know. Just some positive press to combat all the stuff in the papers. They haven’t exactly been kind or honest. It’s making things worse for Mistral instead of easier.”
The crease between Daphne’s eyebrows had reappeared and he figured it was best to change the subject for now. He had enough to mull over.
“Is she always like that?” He gestured to Tigger, who had already made a few friends and was in the middle of a battle with a group of boys over who got to be on the top of the play structure.
“Gregarious? Yes. Full of energy? Yes.”
“They should bottle that.”
“She’s actually part of my grand scheme on how to take over the world.”
Evander gave an amused chuckle. “She’s a good secret weapon.”
He turned his back to the river, figuring a flank attack was less likely than one from the road. He kept his eyes peeled, waiting for whatever Daphne didn’t want him to be there for.
But every once in a while, he found himself becoming involved in the antics of the children. They were boisterous and so full of life and innocence. Everything he had gone to war in order to protect, right there. That was the reason. And it made every bit of loss and destruction worth it so they could have a real childhood.
He seemed to have caught the attention of a few boys, who edged closer. Finally, they summoned their courage and came right up.
“Are you a bodyguard?” asked a kid with dirt smudged on his nose.
Evander loosened his posture, realizing that with his sunglasses and firm at-ease pose he must look like a member of the Secret Service.
“What happened to your face?” asked his buddy.
Evander debated ignoring them, but figured that wouldn’t help his case with Daphne, seeing as she was listening in.
“Yes, I am a bodyguard. And I got blown up protecting a prince.” He sighed to himself. That information was way too interesting for young boys. He should have said no, that he had been born with the scars that ran down the side of his face and torso.
“Did it hurt?” asked the first boy.
“Like a son of—” He caught himself in the knick of time and glanced at Daphne for her reaction.
She looked just as interested as the kids.
“Do you have a gun?” asked the second child.
Beside him Daphne flinched. “You should show them some soldier moves in the woods. He was in the army,” Daphne told them, her eyebrows raised, obviously trying to convince the kids to gang up on him.
That was unfair. Offside.
Clever, too.
“I’m pretty sure your parents wouldn’t like an armed stranger teaching you how to be a soldier in the dark and scary woods.” Evander could teach these kids stuff that would turn their heads inside out. Without even touching on the amphibious assaults he could coordinate along the water’s edge. They’d never see water the same way.
“Our parents won’t mind,” one kid said quickly. That was followed by a chorus of head nodding.
“The woods aren’t scary,” Daphne added.
“I need a push!” called Tigger from the swings.
“I got this,” Evander said, eager to get away. At the rate they were going they would have national secrets exposed within seconds.
Daphne was following him across the sandy play area. “You don’t have to push her, I can.”
“What? You don’t trust me?” he challenged.
She looked momentarily taken aback and he used her hesitation to reach Tigger before she did.
“Maybe you could go get us ice cream,” Daphne suggested.
Setup. One hundred percent. He’d been tailing the two long enough to know that Daphne almost always said no to anything with sugar, and there was no way she would introduce sugar-induced chaos into her world midday. Especially after a late night of painting that had obviously led to her energy levels taking a hit.
“Ice cream!” Tigger squealed.
“Only if Evander gets it,” Daphne said. “I need to stay here with you.”
“We can all go!” Tigger said.
“Great idea,” Evander said. “When can we go?” Daphne scowled at him, but he kept a straight face. “What? We’re not going?”
“Aw,” Tigger complained.
He gave her a light push on the swing. “Hey, I met your Cabbage Patch doll last night. What’s her name?” His brother, Kyle, had wanted one of those as a kid—until a neighbor kid had laughed and called him a sissy. Evander had given the neighbor a black eye for that, then saved up his allowance to get Kyle the doll. But by then the damage had been done and his brother had decided the safe place for him and his sexual preferences was the closet.
One day his brother would open that door, and until then Evander would be there, letting him know he was still loved, no matter what.
“You met Maple? Push higher!” Tigger demanded.
“Nice name. Very Canadian.” He gave her another push, this time a little harder, worried he would knock her right off the swing if he wasn’t careful.
“It’s my favorite ice cream.”
“Oh.”
“Higher!”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” asked one of the boys. They’d crept closer while Daphne fumed at him for foiling her plans.
“Where are your mothers?” Evander asked.
“We’re old enough to come here on our own,” the kid said.
“Well, I think I hear someone’s mom calling,” Evander stated, avoiding meeting their gazes.
“Higher!”
“Do you want an under-duck?” he asked.
“What’s that?”
“A monster push where I dive under you while letting go at the last minute.”
He glanced at Daphne questioningly, wondering if the running push would be too much for the girl. Daphne gave a small nod, her arms wrapped around herself as though warding off a chill. A moment ago she’d seemed ticked, but now she looked defeated. He watched her for an extra second, trying to figure out what had changed, and nearly got knocked by Tigger as she swung back toward him.
He moved so he was in front of the swing, wondering if the running push would send the little girl flying. “Are you sure about this? You’re wearing a dress.”
She carefully let go of one of the chains and he felt his heart stop for a second, worried she’d fall. She lifted the hem of her dress, revealing a pair of shorts. “It’s okay, I’m prepared for play.”
“A girl who is prepared for play. I like that. Too many kids spend all their time inside these days. Do you have a tree fort? Secret club?”
Tigger gave him a frown. “Nobody will make a fort with me.”
“You have a good tree?” He realized that by going down this conversational road he was, in a little girl’s world, practically offering to build a fort for her.
He was getting in too deep. He was going to lose objectivity.
“There’s a big tree at the cottage. But it’s too hard to get tree fort stuff there because it’s on an island. And the generator isn’t good enough anymore to run power tools. That’s what Mom says.”
“That’s a pity.” Tigger needed a man in her life who could step in and resolve these petty issues.
“Under-duck?” she asked.
“You bet. You ready for this? Hold on tight.”
Without looking at Daphne, he grabbed hold of the swing and gave it a massive push. As he let go at the last second to duck underneath, Tigger’s face flashed a look of fear.
Too high, too fast.
What kind of bodyguard was he?
Again, not equipped for real life.
The girl squealed and he spun, preparing to dive and catch her before she plummeted to the sand-covered earth.
Tigger was holding on for dear life, her grin wider than the Grand Canyon. He glanced at Daphne, worried she was going to yell at him for pushing her little girl so high.
Instead, the mother threw up her hands with a resigned smile. “Well, I guess that gets me off the hook from now until eternity. There’s no way I can top that.”
He smiled internally, proud of himself. This was feeling pretty close to real life, and it felt incredible.
That was, until he spotted a man who stopped him cold.
* * *
Daphne recognized the two figures that had caused Evander to tense and act as though he was mentally prepping for a takedown. Every fiber of his awareness was directed at the pair, even though he continued to push Tigger on the swing as if on autopilot. What had felt like a quiet family moment seconds ago was shattered.
This was where things got tricky and Daphne got to practice her juggling skills. She needed to change everyone’s points of view, but she couldn’t do it when they were in the same space, breathing fire at each other.
Then again, what did it matter? Neither she nor Mistral had kept their word today, putting them off to what was surely to be a bad start.
“Daphne,” Evander said carefully, his tone quiet and dangerous.
“Oh, Mistral is here,” she said lightly, stepping away from the swings. “Great.”
“Did you arrange this?”
“Yes. I have to set things right between us.” Evander wasn’t supposed to be here and neither was Mistral’s man. She chewed her bottom lip, which was feeling tender from all the attention it had been receiving from her teeth today. She needed to chill out with a few candles and some good old-fashioned meditation.
Energy fizzed off of the bodyguard. Tigger continued swinging, blissfully unaware.
“What is it going to take, woman?” Evander snapped, moving away from the swing.
“This is my life, my family. Please follow my lead and try not to do anything stupid today.”
“Such as saving your life?” He stood toe to toe with her, his minty breath hot on her face.
For a moment she had trouble reminding herself that he was the one increasing the complications in her life and upsetting things that had nothing to do with him—such as her discussions with Mistral. Daphne was going to be a full year older in a week’s time and was no closer to having the life she wanted, and she couldn’t figure out why. She tried, she really did. And yet…it just never happened.
She turned as Evander held out a hand as though stopping traffic. Mistral and his bodyguard had advanced on them quickly, but stopped when Evander directed them to. Already taking charge.
“I asked you to follow my lead and not get into a competition with Mistral’s assistant over who has a bigger penis, and what are you doing? Taking charge.”
Evander’s eyes narrowed. “I create the boundaries to keep you safe. You can be as stupid as you want within those bounds, but only after I say you can.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“You have yet to give me a reason to.” He brushed her aside, placing himself between her and the men.
She fumed silently. He was such a big, fat, pushy blankety-blank. She needed to do like the heroine in the movie Tangled and hit the man upside the head with a cast-iron skillet to show him not to turn his back on her or to take her for granted. She could take care of herself just fine, thank you very much.
Evander lumbered toward the men, his body moving as though he was a beast at the top of the food chain and on the prowl. Shivers ran up her spine, but it wasn’t from fear. There was something so primal and intense about him that made her skillet idea fall away. He left her off-kilter, her core tightening with a strange mix of longing and resentment.
She needed to get him out of her life.
“Are you armed, Ricardo?” Evander asked the bodyguard, and she blew a sigh into her curls. Direct route to getting off on the wrong foot. Lovely. Had the man heard of social etiquette?
The bodyguard flashed his piece and Daphne closed her eyes. Great. Now she’d never hear the end of this. Another armed meeting.
Evander’s massive hands closed into fists, the muscles and veins in his forearms bunching. Strength, power, and not afraid to use it. This man was everything she stood against.
“I thought you said you were going to leave him behind,” Daphne said to Mistral, pushing past Evander, who didn’t budge, causing her to bounce off him. “No weapons. No trigger-happy bodyguards.”
“I think it’s a good thing he came.” Mistral gave Evander a pointed look.
“I tried to ditch him,” Daphne said quietly, hoping the other two wouldn’t hear.
“Got a permit for that?” Evander asked Ricardo.
“Evander, enough,” Daphne said. The other bodyguard smirked and she glared at him as she drew Evander aside.
Tigger had slowed on the swing, her feet dragging in the sand, her eyes wide and wary.
“Can you support me on this, please?” Daphne asked Evander. “Without violence.”
His large hands were cupped together; his legs were apart. He might be “at ease” but his eyes belied his body’s stance.
“I need this, Evander.” She rested a hand tentatively on his forearm and he flinched, his gaze dropping down to hers in surprise. Hadn’t anybody ever touched this man? Then again, most people likely took note of the keep-away-or-I’ll-break-body-parts-you-didn’t-even-know-you-had vibe and stayed far, far away.
Lucky people who had the choice.
She touched him again, this time with no apparent impact. “Please?”
“Why?”
Answering the simple question would open a can of worms she preferred to keep stashed away. It wasn’t as if he’d understand, anyway. Just like her sisters. They thought no father was better than Mistral. But she had to give him a chance, didn’t she? It wasn’t her right to prejudge his parenting skills and discount him accordingly.
“Trust me?” she asked.
“You should be applying for a restraining order, not meeting with him. These men are not as safe as you think.”
“And they’re not as scary and evil as you think they are.” She called to Mistral, “What do you say we have our bodyguards sit at a picnic table so they don’t interfere with our conversation this time?”
“Sure.” He gestured for Ricardo to go to a nearby table and, like an obedient dog, the man complied. She wondered if Evander would do the same.
With reluctance, Evander joined Ricardo at the picnic table, but didn’t sit down, apparently finding it more comfortable to cross his arms and scowl at her.
Daphne called to her daughter. Tigger somberly slipped off the stopped swing. She meandered over, her bounce gone, her gaze flicking to Evander several times as though seeking support. When she approached, Daphne knelt beside her, her nerves getting the best of her. Evander was acting as though he was a puffed up guard dog and Mistral was avoiding looking at their daughter.
“Tigger, honey,” Daphne said gently. “I’d like to officially introduce you to your father, Mistral Johnson.”
Tigger folded herself against Daphne’s back, nearly knocking her over onto the grass. “He’s the bad guy,” she whispered.
Daphne’s cheeks flushed, and she hoped Mistral hadn’t overheard. “No, no,” she replied. “That was just a misunderstanding. He’s your…he’s your dad.”
This was supposed to be the moment where her daughter jumped for joy and skipped off into the sunset, hand-in-hand with her father.
Why was everyone looking so uncomfortable?
Daphne darted a glance at Evander, who seemed pained. Okay, so she could have prepped Tigger a bit more, but that would have meant a morning of endless questions and Evander becoming more interfering—just like her sisters—as he grew more and more suspicious that Daphne was leading her own life without his input.
Mistral held out a hand to shake Tigger’s and the girl tried to disappear into the folds of Daphne’s dress. Gently, she tried to coax her daughter to stand up. Wasn’t this the moment she’d been waiting for? Tigger had been dreaming about her father for years and making plans around meeting him and spending time together.
Maybe Daphne just needed to give Mistral more space so he could step up as a parent. So Tigger could stand on her own and they could develop a relationship without waiting for her to determine it all. Rising, Daphne stepped back, pushing Tigger forward.
Father and daughter had their heads cocked the same, watching each other. Awkward silence stretched between them and Daphne bit her lower lip, wishing she could create a dam against her emotions. Their first meeting was supposed to be amazing…not this.
“Hi,” Mistral said.
“Hi,” Tigger echoed back.
More awkward silence.
“Why don’t we take this over to the swings?” Evander said, coming to crouch beside Tigger. “Do you want another under-duck?”
Daphne didn’t know whether to be angry with him for butting in and for Mistral allowing him to take the lead, or to be relieved at how Evander was ensuring her daughter had someone to help her break the ice.
Evander began striding away and Tigger hurried ahead to whisper something to him.
“Sorry? What was that?” he asked, with an uncharacteristic gentleness that rocked Daphne, who had been trailing behind them.
He got down on one knee like a quarterback about to start a play. Tigger cupped her hands around his ear and whispered loudly enough for Daphne to hear, “I don’t have a father.”
It was as though someone had stabbed her in the heart. Daphne reeled, trying to remember to breathe, trying to stop the pain and horror as it struck her full force.
Mistral’s expression didn’t change, but she noticed that Evander had to brace himself so he didn’t fall over. Clearing his throat, he stood, taking the girl’s hand. He led her to the swing, his strides so long and fast that Tigger had to skip and jump to keep up.
Evander plunked her on the swing and, with his head bent close to hers, said something that made her smile. Daphne’s heart hitched and she raised a trembling hand to her lips. For all his guns and gadgets, Evander was an incredibly decent man—even if he likely had some definite darkness to his aura.
The next time he glanced her way, his brows pinched and furrowed, she mouthed, “Thank you.” He gave her a curt nod, the tension in his expression easing.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked Tigger, giving her a push.
“Pink, purple, yellow, green. But not puke green. That’s gross.”
Evander, still pushing Tigger, asked Mistral the same question.
He thought for a moment and Daphne worried he might not play along with the ice breaker. “I don’t think I have one.”
“It’s black,” Tigger said shyly.
Nobody said anything as they watched Mistral battle an internal argument over the supposed favorite color.
“Why do you say that?” Evander asked Tigger.
“He’s always wearing it.”
Mistral’s bodyguard laughed, holding a hand over his mouth as though nobody would notice the mirth bubbling forth. “She has a point,” he said, when everyone continued to stare at him.
They all looked to Mistral, who was decked out in a tailored black suit despite the heat of the August afternoon.
“Where would you like to travel to?” Evander asked, picking up the game again, and Daphne sighed. He was making the questions too complex. Her daughter was only five.
“Disney World,” her daughter replied without a pause.
“Good pick.” Evander addressed Mistral, “And you?”
“Been there.”
“Well, la-di-da-da.” Evander flopped his hands and bobbed his head in a haughty dance that made Tigger giggle.
All right, this was a whole new aspect to the special ops ex-navy man, and Daphne wasn’t quite sure how to take him. She knew children often brought out the real side in adults, but that was often the cranky, generous or impatient side. Not a huge-hearted, gentle, silly persona from a man with muscles on his muscles and a glare that cut holes through steel.
If she wasn’t careful, she was going to hold this man as the new ideal for a father for her little girl. And that was Mistral’s job.
“Mom and my nanny took me,” her ex said.
Evander raised his eyebrows at Tigger, who giggled.
“Do you know how to build a tree house?” Daphne blurted to Mistral.
He gave her a puzzled look. “Um. No. Do you?”
She shook her head.
“Me, neither,” Tigger said with a heavy sigh. She slid off the swing and came over to take Daphne’s hand. “Can we go home now?”
Usually she had to bribe her daughter with everything under the sun to leave the playground. Daphne glanced at Mistral and Ricardo. Her ex was checking his phone and easing toward his black, unmarked car.
Her heart sank. He was done already?
Her sisters could not be right about this. He wanted to be a father. That’s what he’d said over the phone. Their daughter was amazing. Quick-witted, fun, and vibrant. Couldn’t he see that? Didn’t he want to be a part of her life?
Daphne freed herself from the girl, hurrying to fall into step beside the retreating father. “You’re leaving? Already?”
She hated the desperate whine in her voice, but couldn’t help it. She’d hoped for so much. She’d expected him to want to make up for the way his own father had been painfully absent in his upbringing. All those years ago he’d spoken as though he wanted to change the past. And here was his opportunity.
“You can change it all,” she said breathlessly. “You can stop the cycle right here and be a present father who is loving and caring and spends time with your daughter. There’s no reason another child should grow up without the love of their father.”
Mistral looked at her with surprise, then glanced back at Tigger, who was getting a ride on Evander’s shoulders.
That was supposed to be him, didn’t he see that? That man could be him.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. His phone was vibrating in his hand.
Baby steps, she reminded herself. Don’t overwhelm him with changing the world before he sees how he can make small changes in his own life.
“I thought you wanted to get to know Tigger before arranging visitation, and before we settled on custody.”
“Why do you call her Tigger?”
“She’s bouncy.”
He gave the mellow child a doubtful look. “I think we did well today,” he said with an easy shrug. He held up his cell. “I have to take this.”
Daphne grabbed the phone, surprising him when she didn’t allow him to raise it to his ear. “Don’t you want more?”
He paused, staring at her for a moment. “I’m not sure I can have it all, Daphne. Your dreams are too big.” He gave a helpless shrug.
“I meant more time with Tigger. To get to know her.”
His phone began buzzing again in their shared grip. “I’m sorry, Daphne. Today’s gone sideways on me. I wish I had more time, but I have a business to run and my dad needs a proposal from me ASAP.”
There was hurt in his eyes as he walked away, phone at his ear, shoulders hunched forward in defeat.
Moments later, Mistral paused, then turned back. “Daph, the kid and I’ll spend time together. I’m here for the rest of the summer, off and on.” He came closer, voice dropping. There was a hint of the young man she’d once loved hiding in his wistfulness. “We’ll get to know each other. Okay? Plenty of time.”
Summer ended in less than two weeks.
“You’ll see her again?” Daphne asked.
Mistral paused, watching Evander and Tigger goof around. “Call me.”
* * *
Daphne had to remind herself that just because she was ready to move faster, it didn’t mean Mistral was. She had a habit of looking far into the future and wishing for too much, and this time she needed to allow it all to happen as it was meant to.
He would see their daughter again. That should be enough for now.
She turned to find Evander behind her, teeth clenched so tight he was going to need cranial sacral massage to align his body systems again.
Reaching up, she gently placed a hand along his tense jaw. “You’re going to pull yourself out of alignment.”
He blinked at her as though not quite sure who she was or what she was saying.
“It’s time to get home,” he said.
“Fine.” She’d lost brownie points with Evander today, while he’d earned a stack to last him a lifetime—or, in his case, until tomorrow at least. The idea of losing points with him bothered her even though he was a bossy grump. For some dumb reason she wanted the big lug to think highly of her.
It was almost as though she’d developed a crush on him today. The idea tickled her mind and she began laughing. How ridiculous! Evander? Not on your life.
“What?” he snapped.
His frown made her mirth all the more contagious and it spread through her body until she was bent over double, helpless.
“You’ve finally cracked. Well, can’t say I didn’t see it coming.” He put his hands on his hips, looking so stern and serious that her laughter took out her knees, dropping her to the ground, where she let it take full control.
“She gets like this,” Tigger said, giggling.
Daphne sat up, holding her gut, trying to stop the laughter. “I’m sorry, I really am. This is all just so ridiculous all I can do is laugh.”
Tigger bounded away, chuckling to herself.
Evander yanked Daphne to her feet, his glare as deadly as a sharpened blade. “Just because nobody pulled a gun today does not mean we can laugh and have a merry time.”
Daphne did her best to try and quell the riot of giggles expanding in her chest.
Under his breath, Evander muttered, “What went so wrong in your life that you want your daughter spending time with a man who has an armed bodyguard with an itchy trigger finger lurking behind him at all times?”
Her amusement ceased as though someone had pulled the emergency brake.
“I don’t judge your life, you don’t judge mine.” She went to gather Tigger, who was sitting under a picnic table, picking dandelions and singing softly to herself. Daphne glanced back at Evander, who was waiting, arms crossed.
How was she going to deal with him following her around for what would likely be days or weeks?
And yet…if it hadn’t been for him today, things probably would have belly flopped hard enough to leave her stunned and breathless. She had expected him to make things worse by escalating the men’s worst sides, but instead he’d helped her daughter. He’d stepped up as the father figure Daphne had been seeking for her little girl. The fact that he was the one who had put Tigger at ease and looked out for her, instead of it being Mistral, was like a pebble in Daphne’s shoe.
The universe obviously had a cruel sense of humor. Evander was not going to be the girl’s father figure. End of story. Mistral was.
The universe was simply teaching Daphne patience.
She just wished the universe would pick up the pace a bit.
She crouched by the picnic table. “Come on, Tigger, time to go.”
“Home?” the girl asked. “With you?”
Daphne bit her bottom lip to hold in the pain. Just like that, her daughter’s world had changed enough that she no longer trusted that she would always be with her mother.
“Yes, with me.”
“Evander, too?”
“Yes, I expect that he will follow us as usual.”
“Can I ride with him?”
The question set Daphne back. The man had definitely left an impression today. On both of them.
“I think you should probably ride with me.”
The girl crawled out from under the table, grass stains rubbed into the hem of her dress. Without a word of argument, she climbed into the minivan.
Evander was talking on his phone, and Daphne felt so exhausted that even though she knew this was her chance to shake him, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she waited outside her van, intrigued by the way his forehead was scrunched and lined. Phone still to his ear, he raised a hand, placing a thumb on one temple, his index finger on the other. Yup, definitely pulling things out of alignment with all that stress he kept bunched up under his skin. The man could use some serious yoga, too.
“Mom, are you sure you can wait that long?” he said into his phone.
Mama’s boy.
“No, I’ll be there in twenty. Time me.”
Daphne tried not to show her surprise. Just like that he was ditching her? What had happened to all the safety stuff he was so keen on? Had the meeting with Mistral convinced him that the danger was gone? The idea both elated and disappointed her in one mixed-up swirl of confusing emotions.
Evander looked up at Daphne, and she felt the power of his gaze hit her hard in the chest. Something was wrong in his world. Something big. Realizing that he, indeed, was human shouldn’t be so shocking to her, but the idea was foreign and new.
“That’s for me to figure out, Mom. Just sit still. I’ll be there soon.”
Evander turned off his phone, eerily silent for a moment. His shoulders were hunched forward, his eyes screwed shut. She watched as his hands flexed tighter and tighter around his cell. Afraid he was going to break it, she gently tried to loosen it from his grip, hoping not to disturb him. His fingers tightened instinctively and she lightly rested both palms around his fist. She wasn’t afraid, but she felt the need to move slowly and carefully.
“You’re going to break it,” she whispered, tugging on the phone. His fingers released immediately and she took the warm case from him. “Are you okay?”
He remained silent, not moving.
She pushed him toward her van, her mind made up. Time to earn back some brownie points, or at least repay a favor or two. “Where are we going?” she asked. She had him in the van’s passenger seat before he realized what was going on, and began blinking and shaking his head. She shut the door on him, not knowing whether he would stay put or not.
She climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled out. “Where to?”
“Bracebridge,” he said finally.
“Buckle up, then.”
They were on the main road out of town before he began protesting. “I can drive.”
“We’re already on the road.”
“I should drive.”
“You’re in no condition to do so.”
“You don’t have enough gas.”
“Sure I do.”
“The gas light is on,” he said, his voice hollow.
“I can get to town and back on that.”
“You should always keep in the top quarter.”
“I’d always be at the gas station.”
“Stop taking risks.” He turned to her with haunted eyes. “What if you had to evade someone and ran out of gas?”
“Evander…”
“Promise me you’ll be more careful.”
“Shut up and let me drive,” she said, already regretting the good deed.