by Jean Oram
* * *
Evander pushed Tigger on the rope-and-board swing he’d made for her in his mother’s rambling backyard. She and Daphne had been living with them for less than twenty-four hours and he was already wrapped around Tigger’s finger. Although, he reminded himself, the swing had been his idea as a preemptive measure to keep the girl from wearing out Florence who, so far, seemed perkier from having her light up their home.
He eyed the ropes as the child swung back and forth. If he added a rubber strap he could give the swing a little bounce, which would appeal to Tigger’s nature.
He added rubber straps to his ongoing mental shopping list, then visually swept the yard’s perimeter for safety breaches. He needed a better detection system than he currently had. As well as more lights and possibly a pack of vicious dogs that snarled and frothed at the mouth.
Daphne joined them on the lawn, smiling, seeming not at all shy despite the way she’d attacked him with her lips last night. She moved with grace and simplicity, a compelling figure of femininity, and he wanted to hold her, inhale the scent of her hair while falling into her warmth.
Thinking that way was a direct route to mission failure. Women were almost always the biggest distraction for soldiers. He needed to stay focused. Stay impartial, objective, removed.
He turned his back to Daphne, giving Tigger another push.
“Look what Evander made me,” the girl said to her mother.
“A whole swing just for you?” There was something wistful in Daphne’s voice and he caught her hugging herself in his peripheral vision.
“Take over,” Evander said, directing her to step in and push Tigger. He needed to go check the feed from Daphne’s yard gnomes. Maybe he could ask Brick to help out. His brother had arrived, distracted by grief to the point of being more of a hindrance than a help last night. This morning he seemed better, but he needed purpose to help keep him from dissolving into worst-case scenarios. Plus, once the press caught wind of what had happened on the road yesterday, and where Daphne was hiding out, Evander would surely need a bit of help with crowd control.
At the edge of the yard, he turned, checking on the mother-daughter duo. It wasn’t smart spending this much time in the open backyard. There was a fence along the alley, plenty of large trees, lots of coverage, but it was still open if you knew where to peek in—and there were plenty of places to do so and not be noticed. The swing had been a bad idea. Tigger would want to spend too much time out here.
Evander knew he needed to focus, but he was so damn tired of it. He wanted nothing more than to sit back and laugh while watching the kid bounce around the yard. He wanted a life where he had nothing better to do than worry about her happiness.
But he had to be the man he was trained to be, because Aaron Bloomwood wasn’t in custody even though the Hummer driver had pointed his finger at him, and Daphne’s little chats with her ex weren’t leading to progress.
It was up to Evander to be vigilant and keep them safe at all times.
His mother called from the back door, “Rudolph got out.”
The cat pranced past him in the grass, legs extending as he upped his pace to stay out of range.
Tigger, out of nowhere, pounced on the feline, rolling him over to rub his belly.
“Oh, not a good idea,” Evander warned. “He claws.” He swooped the cat off the ground, and like sharpened steel on silk, those claws sliced through his skin.
“He liked that,” Tigger protested.
“Cat’s don’t like having their bellies rubbed,” Daphne said, backing him up as she directed Tigger to the swing again. She was being careful not to allow her daughter to bother Florence too much, and Evander appreciated the effort.
He passed the cat to his mother.
“Lunch?” she asked.
“That time already?”
“I can make quiche,” Kyle said, appearing behind her, his face covered in some sort of green goop that made Evander think of women in spa commercials.
“That would be lovely, dear,” Florence said.
“Consider it done,” Kyle said with a graceful bow.
Florence cuddled the cat to her chin, still standing in the doorway. “You looked like a family out there.”
“Mom,” Evander warned.
“I like having kids around.” She gave the cat an extra squeeze. “And you seem different with them here.”
“Yeah, super worried they’re going to be hurt,” he grumbled, familiar anxiety rising within him. He turned to face the yard. “Time to come in!”
“Aw,” protested Tigger. Daphne began ushering her off the swing. At least the woman was listening to him now. Although he wasn’t sure if she wasn’t just going with the flow and taking the path of least resistance. Either way, today he’d take it.
“I meant you seem relaxed,” his mom said. “More alert and worried, but relaxed somehow.”
“That makes no sense,” he said over his shoulder, hurrying to where Tigger had stopped to peer into the lush lawn, Daphne crouched over her, her back to Evander.
“Come on,” he said, glancing at the ladybug that had delayed them.
Daphne jumped, hand going to her throat. “You scared me.”
He placed a palm on her shoulder, guiding her to the house. “Didn’t mean to sneak up. The old lady wants lunch, Tigger. Let’s see what we can make her. My brother wants to make something that I’m sure will take five hours, and you probably won’t like it, anyway. If we beat him to the kitchen we set the menu.”
Tigger skipped to the house, then, seeming to catch herself, slowed her pace to a walk. “Florence isn’t old,” she said. “Old people have candy.”
“Oh, she has candy. And I know where she keeps it.”
“No sugar before lunch,” Daphne said, frowning.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s what all the moms say.” Evander shot Daphne a wink and she shook her head in warning.
“Mom says it makes me bouncy!” Tigger added an extra bounce to her step, landing on the back step.
“Even more than usual, huh? I’d pay to see that.”
“Oh, you’ll pay all right,” Daphne muttered as he held the door for them.
He paused to reset the alarm and throw the dead bolt behind them, trying to be subtle about it.
“Tigger,” Florence called from the front room. “I made something for you.”
“Goody!” The girl bounced off, disappearing around the corner, her party dress swinging.
“Your mom’s going to spoil her,” Daphne said with a sad smile.
“I can talk to her.” He moved to the kitchen, Daphne following.
“No, it’s fine. Tigger loves her. She’s going to miss her, that’s all.”
“She’s not dying.” He cleared his throat, hoping it wasn’t a lie. He braced himself against the open fridge door, pushing back the insistent hollow ache that threatened to turn the bright day gray. He slapped a brick of cheddar on the counter, then added a pound of butter and a carton of milk beside it.
“I’m sorry,” Daphne said carefully. “I didn’t mean to imply that she was.”
“It’s not terminal,” he said, swallowing hard. “And I’m sure she’d love it if you and Tigger stayed in touch. After. She used to be a kindergarten teacher and she misses kids.” He pulled a package of whole wheat elbow noodles from the cupboard, then handed Daphne a large pot. “Can you fill this with water?”
Without a word she filled it, then set it on the stove, lighting the burner beneath it. “How long before you think it’ll be safe for us to return home?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’re in your way, Evander.”
“No, not really.”
“Cramping your style at least?”
He let out a sigh and gave her a dry look. “I have no style to cramp.”
She glanced at his ironed shirt and raised an eyebrow.
“Army habits.” Yeah, so a T-shirt might not need heat to flatten, but the action was soothin
g. A hot blade running across wrinkles, making everything smooth and perfect in one stroke. It was easy to get lost in the meditative rhythm of ironing.
“If we’re making it difficult for you to parent your daughter,” he said, “tell us.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
He gave her a stern look and she laughed, tossing up her hands in what may have been delight.
“This is the best thing to happen to her all summer.” Daphne’s smile fell and she wouldn’t meet his gaze as she busied herself grating cheese with too much vigor.
They worked in steady silence, but finally he had to ask, “How come?”
“Family is good for her.”
Family? Was that what she thought this was? He tried to argue, but found his mind stuck on the word, his throat seized as though in the solid grip of an enemy commander.
“Hey,” Kyle said, entering the kitchen, his face washed from the earlier green mask, “I said I’d make lunch.”
Evander pushed the jug of milk into his hands. “Take over. Mac ’n’ cheese.”
“But I was going to make quiche.”
“Plans change.”
CHAPTER 10
Daphne clamped her mouth shut so she wouldn’t argue with Evander. Tigger was happily learning to knit in the other room, completely enraptured by Florence and her ability to create gorgeous fairy blankets. Kyle, who’d barely left his mother’s side since his arrival, was helping by untangling the balls of yarn. He was so unlike Evander, with his slender build and feminine gentleness, that Daphne could barely believe they had the same parents.
Outside the large kitchen window chickadees were eating at a bird feeder, their black caps bobbing as they pecked at the seed. Another movement caught her eye, a streak of faded orange fur. Rudolph. She stood to try and warn off the birds, but they were already gone, and Rudolph moodily stalking away at the missed opportunity.
“Are you listening?” Evander asked.
“I don’t know. Are you still lecturing?”
He gave a disgruntled snort at her flippant dig.
She’d been carefully following his directions and advice in hopes that he’d take his tension down a notch. If he said it was time to come in from the yard, she came in. No questions asked. But he’d been on a tear since she’d announced wanting to go back to work. She’d had to remind him that even though she was living here she still had expenses.
She took a seat at the kitchen table, cupping a mug of coffee in her hands. While she’d seen a new side of Evander by sharing his home for the past day and a half, his being on edge was getting to her. Yesterday he’d all but stormed out of the kitchen while they were making lunch, leaving her and Kyle to finish the macaroni and cheese.
“Have you heard any more about the guy in the Hummer?” she asked him now.
“There’s no new information,” he said. “Have you talked to Mistral?”
“Do you think I should?” She found it strange that Mistral hadn’t called her cell. He had to have heard what had happened.
“I think you should be an active participant, Daphne.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His voice took on an edge that she didn’t like. “You have a habit of sitting back and allowing your life to steer itself, or letting others make decisions for you.”
“Fine. I can move out. I thought this was the safest option, but if you’d rather I stand up and make a big choice about it all I’ll go pack my bags.”
“Hear me out before you go twisting your panties in a knot.”
She stood up. “You really don’t know how to be civil, do you?”
“You can’t let everything flow by you, Daphne. Being one with the world is not a life plan.” Evander punctuated his sentences by slapping the back of one hand into the opposite palm, like a politician making an important point.
She’d never liked politicians that much. Too many seemed to be on the take or didn’t have the balls to make the big changes the planet needed, for fear of ticking off their constituents.
“You need to be an active participant in keeping yourself safe. Don’t wait for everyone to make your decisions without you.”
“And what do you know about my life?”
“A lot more than you seem to.” His eyes were flashing as she dropped her hands onto her hips to glare up at him.
“I doubt anyone like you could ever understand someone like me.”
“For all your acceptance,” he said, stepping close enough that his body heat scorched her skin, “you sure as hell don’t seem to accept me and where I’m coming from. I’m putting my life on the line to save your skin. In fact, how many times have I bailed you out in the past five days and you can’t even find it in your big, generous heart to grant me a sliver of understanding?”
Daphne felt as though he’d not just turned the tables on her, but that he’d pushed one against her, pinning her in a corner.
Her voice wobbled as she said, “You know what? You showing up with your testosterone hanging out, and waving that gun of yours around like a big ol’—”
“Oh, no you don’t.” He was so close now that she could barely think, only feel desperation and anger and something else she most definitely didn’t want to feel anywhere near this man. “You don’t get to blame the gun thing on me. Do you even know who Mistral’s bodyguard is?” Evander pressed closer. “Do you?”
She slowly shook her head, her curls tangling as they brushed over her shoulders.
“The man you want your daughter hanging around employs a man with a rap sheet longer than my tibia. Ricardo’s been arrested for assault several times. Is that in line with your family values?”
She really wanted to slap him. At the same time everything Evander was saying was slamming kernels of truth into a tender place she’d tried to keep buried inside.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to be strong enough to take what he was saying. He was pointing out all these things because he believed it was best for her and her daughter. She knew that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Okay,” Daphne said, giving in, hoping he’d just stop talking.
He gently took her arms, his large hands covering so much of her skin that she leaned into his touch, wanting more. She wanted to have a long nap in the shelter of his protection, then wake up and find her life fixed again. Instead, she had to be strong. As strong as this man who was telling her she had to be even stronger. She had to be a mother. She had to do what was best for everyone, even if it wasn’t the best thing for her.
“Okay what?” Evander asked.
“You want me to accept you?” Her voice shook, so many emotions battling within her she was surprised she didn’t burst at the seams. “Then let me in.”
She needed him to break down the wall that always seemed to come up whenever she saw glimpses of the real man. The more she got to know him, the more she saw snippets of realness, but she needed something to show her that he was feeling the same attraction she was. She wasn’t even sure what it was exactly, but she needed to know if he felt it, too.
“You want to know why I went to war?” Evander said finally. “Because of love.”
She twisted out of his grip, laughing as she ran a hand through her hair, fingers catching in the fine knots. “To get in some girl’s pants? I didn’t expect that.”
Evander ignored the joke. “I know that what you do comes from here.” He touched his chest above his heart. “Everything in your life is guided by love. But what if someone or something was threatening that?”
Daphne blinked hard. Someone was threatening it.
“Sometimes in order to protect love so it can grow and spread throughout the world, you have to crush those who are trying to destroy it. Those who are so ruined they can no longer see the beauty in this world and only want to break it. You can’t talk to people who have gone that far into the pain. They only understand fighting and weapons.”
She didn’t want to believe him, didn’t wan
t to grasp his rationale, but his argument made perfect sense.
She didn’t want there to be people who understood only fighting and weapons, and not love. She didn’t know how the world had become so broken, but war never fixed things. Nothing seemed to. Not even love.
Evander swallowed hard, fighting some emotion she wasn’t familiar with. He’d seen things she never could and he was closing up before her.
“I went to war, Daphne,” he said, glancing up, his eyes dark and chilling. No, he wasn’t closing up, he was letting her in. He was showing her what she was seeking, baring himself so that she could understand. “To protect love. To make sure it had a place to grow—even in the unlikeliest of places.”
She shivered despite the warmth of the morning sun. His gaze softened and he extended a hand to her. She hesitated for a second before reaching out and placing her palm in his large one.
“Let me protect you, Daphne. Let me give your love the shelter it needs so it can grow and change this world.”
She folded herself into his arms, nodding, mute with the shock of having someone so different finally understand and accept where she was coming from. Evander was quickly becoming the man who was everything that had been missing in her world.
* * *
Daphne shook the tension out of her hands and released a gusty sigh. The way Evander had revealed himself in the kitchen had been unexpected. The fact that he went to war for the same reasons she lived her life was unsettling. How could they both be driven by love? It was incongruent having a gun-toting, knife-throwing hunk of muscle going to war to preserve love in the world. What had set them on such separate paths if they had similar core values?
War and peace. Which would help save the world?
And yet, if they were so similar, why couldn’t Evander see that she was an active participant in her life? She wasn’t sitting around letting it go by, as he seemed to believe.
