Page 9 of Protected By the Surly Carpenter

Clark analyzes it for a moment, nodding. “You’re very decisive with your brushstrokes. And you have an amazing eye for motion and color blending.” He points toward the tight swirls of lavender scattered throughout. “The flow is fantastic here. Iremember, you were bopping along with the music for those ones.”

I laugh, squeezing his arm. It’s hard to hold back a gasp when I feel how massive and solid his bicep is. “You’re right.”

I step in front of his canvas and my jaw nearly hits the floor. He homed in a bit more on the cottage, but it’s somewhat different.

Clark clears his throat. “I, uh, have a cabin by the lake down in Spring Grove. I made it more like that.”

The painting is incredible. The trees are fluffy and a bit abstract, but the cabin itself is created with steady straight lines, like perfectly cut planks. It’s as if he was sketching with the paint brush. I point to the tiny bits of bright green and blue in a shaded area beside the cabin. “What are those?”

“Canoes. My buddy Holt builds them. We’ve go to each other’s workshops if someone needs an extra hand, or has gotten behind on a series of projects.”

The more Clark speaks about the people he knows, the happier I get. I mean, it’s one thing to be a stoic, sometimes grumpy mountain man. Yet I’d be sad to think that he was a serious loner, firmly set in his ways.

“It’s amazing,” I tell him. “I’m seriously impressed.”

“Maybe I’ll take you there someday. You can tell me if it’s accurate.”

He’s already thinking about the future as it relates to us? That feels…well, not too much. It’s great. Just…not normal. Then again, I have no reference points, so who knows.

We dry the paintings with a low powered hair dryer, while snacking down the rest of the appetizers. Then we say good night to Betty and Cullen. I wait between the truck and the patio, still wearing Clark’s enormous button-down shirt while he wraps our paintings. I wonder if he’d mind if I added a belt and wore this as a dress.

He flashes me one of those huge, genuine smiles as he ducks back inside. “Wait right here. I’m just going to settle up with the server, now that the owners aren’t looking.”

Betty had murmured something about us attending for free since Clark gave them a generous discount on the easels, but if he wants to be sneaky, I’m hardly going to stop him.

“There you are.”

I whirl around to see that Lawney guy climbing out of a rundown blue pick-up. The guy he’s with examines me closely. “This her? Living right here in Cedarville?” He looks so familiar… If I could just see him in a better light, I know it would click.

“Nah,” Lawney drawls, “she’s working in Old Hemlock Valley. Which means she’s living there someplace.”

I can feel Clark’s warmth as he instantly steps behind me, wrapping an arm firmly around my waist. “Let’s go, baby.”

He takes a twisting route out of town that seems like a total waste of time until I realize what he’s doing. “You don’t think they’d follow us, do you?”

“They might.” He slows down, reaching out to stroke my knee. “Elena, why is Lawney Powell looking for you? And who’s that other guy? I’ve seen them together before.”

The world goes fuzzy for a moment as I try to place him, then it clicks. “Oh no. He looks like a younger version of Dad’s skeezy friend Jeff. It’s got to be his son.”

“So, your father has people out looking for you.” He pulls into a gas station, parks, then turns to take both of my hands. “Elena, I just want to protect you. I’ll have a better chance of doing that if I know everything that’s going on.”

Taking a deep breath, I knew that one perfect date was too much to wish for. If only I could close my eyes and have my father disappear.

Yet I already trust Clark completely. That’s something, isn’t it?

“I’ll spare you the gory details and give you the short version. Mom passed away two years ago when I was just nineteen, leaving me the key to her safety deposit box. Dad had taken off when I was twelve, but I guess he heard about Mom’s passing and must have guessed she would leave me her jewelry as her only child. She never trusted him, so she kept some of her things locked up in a safety deposit box, along with everything her parents left her. Of course, that just made Dad paranoid that she was hiding things from him.”

Clark leans forward, listening intently.

“I have her wedding ring, and a small engagement ring that she hadn’t worn in years. A few pairs of gold earrings, nothing huge.” I tip my head, showing him the little gold star in my earlobe. “The only thing of real value is a stunning emerald necklace my grandmother left to Mom.”

My eyes drop to the floor. “Dad made noises about selling that necklace once when he visited, when I was sixteen. It felt like he was checking to see what he could get out of the house. He’s always looking for the next scam. I think he feels entitled to the necklace since I’ve only worn it once, at a Christmas party Mom took me to. It’s been wrapped up in the bottom of my duffel bag ever since.”

There’s a cracking, popping noise. Looking up, I see Clark’s hands are in tight fists. “So this bastard is putting the word out to the scum of the Earth that they’re supposed to find you for him? So he can take what’s yours?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Even though his dark eyes are flashing angrily and his jaw is tight, his hand is incredibly gentle as he reaches out to stroke my cheek. “Elena, everyone knows it takes a long time to find adecent apartment in Old Hemlock Valley. Which means Lawney is going to figure out you’re staying at the Inn.”

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