Page 22 of An Unexpected Match

Friday, Arden wondered if that would be the day Brendan returned home. His phone call last night hadn’t satisfied. She wished he’d finish up quickly and return to Virginia. Being patient wasn’t her strong suit. He could return today. He’d said tomorrow for sure.

She had so much she wanted to share with him about his daughters. Hailey and Avery were blossoming. They loved to play outside and had color in their cheeks from their activities.

Both also liked to paint. Once they’d seen her art supplies, they pleaded and cajoled and demanded to be allowed to paint. Arden bought some watercolors, some plain paper, and a roll of butcher paper. Tacking the butcher paper on the long wall beneath the stairs at child height, she allowed them to start a mural. Afternoons, they spent some time outside learning to paint, using the trees and flowers as subjects. Then she’d let them try it on the butcher paper.

Arden put up the fledgling artwork all over the house. It was often difficult to see who was more proud of the work, each artist or Arden.

Hailey had a definite eye for color. Avery liked mixing everything up. But Arden treated each new creation as if it were priceless. She loved to see their proud, beaming smiles when she praised their work.

Friday afternoon both girls were wearing the T-shirts Arden gave them as cover-ups. A thick layer of newspapers protected the floor from drips while Hailey and Avery carefully continued painting their mural. Arden had sketched in trees and flowers and a gingerbread house. The little girls were now adding the color.

Arden sat on the floor nearby, sketching them at work. She loved their concentration. Hailey’s tongue peeked from between her lips as she carefully stayed within the lines. Avery mixed colors until she was satisfied with the results, then smeared it on the paper.

The door opened and Brendan stepped in. He stopped, stunned, looking at his daughters painting the wall beneath the stairs.

“What the blazes is going on?” he asked, closing the door ominously behind him.

Arden looked up, her heart catching in her throat.

He was home. And he looked more wonderful than she remembered.

And furious.

Scrambling to her feet, she brushed her hands against her shorts.

“Hi, you’re home.” Give her extra points for stating the obvious.

He placed his bag on the floor and studied his daughters.

“I can’t believe you’d let them paint the wall.

Glancing around, he turned and glared straight at Arden.

“Toys all over the living room, paint on the walls. They’re dressed like ragamuffins. Is this how you define responsible, Miss Glover? Girls, put down those paintbrushes and go to your room.”

“Wait just a minute here.

Arden motioned to the girls to stay where they were.

Swinging back to Brendan, she placed her hands on her hips and met his gaze without a flinch, her temper flaring.

“If you would take a second and a half to greet your children, and then ask what they’re doing, you might have saved yourself from acting like an idiot. I can’t believe you’d think I’d let them paint directly on the wall. Do you have such little faith in me? Why ever would you have hired me if that’s what you think I’m capable of? We’re painting a mural on butcher paper, not directly on the wall.”

“Butcher paper?”

She nodded and glanced at the girls. Both were watching their father with wide eyes.

“Go kiss your daddy hello, sweeties. I bet he’s glad to see you,” Arden said in a gentle voice.

Her narrowed-eye look at Brendan warned him he better act like he was glad to see them.

“I am glad to see them. I don’t need someone to tell them that.”

“You could have fooled me,” she murmured as the girls ran to greet their father.

He kissed them, ruffled their hair, and then asked them what they were wearing.

“It’s our painting smocks,” Hailey said proudly. “We wear them to keep our clothes clean.”

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