Page 39 of Reckless Single Daddy

“I didn’t know laser-shooting dinosaurs were part of your collection,” I remark as I step inside the room.

She turns to look at me, rolling her eyes as I wrap my arms around her from behind. She leans against me as she looks it over. “I bet a cat riding a shark will also be a hit with the art collectors,” I whisper.

She laughs. “I can appreciate the creativity of a nine-year-old’s mind. Gives me a break from overthinking my actual collection.”

I hum, knowing the collection has been causing her a great deal of stress. I can’t imagine what that’s doing to her mental stability, on top of the wedding and the stalker, but I hope I can keep alleviating it however I can.

“I think he will love it,” I say, kissing her temple softly as she shifts deeper into my embrace. I pull away, and she turns to face me. “I have something I want to show you,” I say, taking her hand.

We walk out of her painting room, and I bring her downstairs to where my office is. Above my desk hangs her painting,Stop to Grin. Turns out, my generous contribution at the festival helped me secure the prize.

Sloane gasps when she sees it hanging up high, like a trophy that stands proudly for anyone who enters this room. And it is. I feel lucky to have won it over someone who can’t appreciate the woman who made the canvas. I feel fortunate that I can turn around in my chair, look at it when I’m feeling stressed,and remind myself to stop and grin, especially knowing who is behind it.

I walk over to the desk and take out a pen, handing it to her. “I was hoping you could sign it,” I tell her.

She shakes her head in disbelief. “It’s already signed on the back,” she says.

I smile, holding her wrist and guiding it to the painting. “I know, but I want whoever comes in here to know exactly who this is by.”

I run my hands over her arms, comforting her through her reservations. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she walks up to the painting, signing it in the lower right corner. When she pulls away, I see a small note paired with her signature.

Thank you for always being my biggest fan - Love, Sloane Bennett

I hold back my emotions as the weight of her note settles over me. We haven’t said it yet. The big word, though I’ve always loved Sloane one way or another. The word just holds a different meaning now. Not because I don’t feel it still, because I definitely do. It’s just going in a different direction I hadn’t expected.

“What was your inspiration for this, anyway?” I ask as we stare at the various brushstrokes.

She turns her head to the side and examines it before pointing to the painting. “Each movement was deliberate. I was feeling the pressures from my parents and conforming to what they wanted. It wasn’t until Mr. Mathers told me to humanize my work that I began to have motion in my feelings and use colors to evoke emotions.” She runs her fingertips along each stroke, staring at the painting like she’s been sucked into a memory she can’t escape.

Sloane’s phone rings, pulling her from her thoughts. She checks the screen and shows me Mike’s name on it. I nod for her to answer it as she takes a seat in one of the neighboring chairs in front of my desk while I get behind it. She puts the phone on speaker so we both can hear it.

“Hey, guys, can you hear me okay?” Mike asks.

“Loud and clear, my friend. How did things go?” I ask.

He groans on the other line. That doesn’t sound comforting whatsoever.

“Unfortunately, no one came to the house to drop a letter off, but the resources you provided for us, Cade, have been a big help.” He pauses for a moment as I listen to him tap on a keyboard on the other end. “Sloane, you let us have access to your workemails, which allowed us to track the IP address of where the email was sent.”

Sloane shakes her head, confused. “It was encrypted, though. I thought there would be no way to track it,” she says.

Normally, she’d be correct; however, with the contact I gave RVPD, I’m certain they were able to break through it.

“We were able to break through the encryption and find that it was sent from the Rose Valley Public Library,” Mike says.

I let out a chuckle. “Go figure,” I mumble. It’s an outdated approach, but an effective one. We don’t have logins to use the library computer, so the librarian could never track who was last on the computer. That will be my next endeavor: better security for the library.

“So, we know the person is local,” I say. “What else did you find?”

I take Sloane’s hand in mine, and I feel her tense up as she listens to each piece of information Mike informs us. All I can do is be there for her through this insane ride, and be her beacon of hope. I may not have all the answers, but I know I can provide her with as much emotional and physical support as she wants and needs.

“Well, we were able to find something from the library,” Mike says. I sit up straighter as Sloane does the same, waiting for more. “The librarian was able to check all the latest search history results on the computers, and one of them was for a website called ‘Stop to Grin.’”

I look back at Sloane’s painting right above my desk and quickly wake my computer up. I enter the website, and up pops a complete blog dedicated to Sloane, her work, and news on her.

Sloane gets up from her chair and looks over my shoulder. Her eyes widen in shock as she points to the screen. “They were in the house,” she whispers, horrified, and I look back at her.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

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