by Jean Oram
“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’s the real alpha, 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 and battling 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 sa
id 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,” he
r 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.”
