Under His Protection (Protect and Defend 1)

“I wanted to talk to you about coming home. We’d like you to fly back next Monday morning. How does that sound?”

Just the thought of leaving Whitney Island filled her with dread. She didn’t want to go.

She didn’t have a choice.

“That sounds fine. Do you have something planned Monday night?”

“We do. The events are non-stop now, leading up to the election. It’s a pre-celebration gathering that evening. You’ll come, of course.” It wasn’t a question.

She answered it anyway. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“I’ll discuss arrangements with Russell, get everything taken care of and I’ll see you next week.” Her father paused and she waited, her hand clutching the phone so tight her fingers cramped. “I’m proud of you, Blake. For keeping out of the magazines. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

She absorbed his words, wishing she didn’t always have this need for his approval. It would be so much different if he gave it easily. “When I get home, I have something important I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“I’m interested in some volunteer work, something to do with kids and art.” She waited breathlessly for her father’s reaction.

“That sounds perfectly fine, Blake. We’ll discuss it more when you get home. I look forward to hearing your ideas.”

“Goodbye.” She breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“Bye, Blake. Take care.”

She held the phone up to her ear long after her father disconnected the call. Slowly, she set her cell on the desk and shook her head in disbelief.

Her father had been surprisingly accepting. Would wonders never cease?

Blake rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. She felt better after talking to him, though now the nerves came back even stronger. Not only did she need to go face Mason after almost crumbling in front of him earlier like a crazed, emotional wreck, now she needed to tell him about the phone call.

He was going to flip. And she didn’t look forward to it. He’d go into full agent mode when really she wanted everything to remain quiet and intimate between them. No matter how hard she tried, something always got in their way.

Gathering every last bit of resolve within, she went to the studio door and slowly turned the knob. She glanced around the edge of the door, then emerged from the studio and started down the hall toward the kitchen.

A soft light glowed from the living room and she realized it was awfully dark for the time of day. Clouds must have rolled in. It was getting closer to nightfall and darkness came earlier with every day that passed.

Soon it would be winter and gloomy and depressing. Christmas would come and she’d be sad and lonely and wishing she had someone, anyone to get her through the holidays.

Someone like Mason.

Pushing pointless thoughts and wishes from her mind, she moved down the hall, keeping her steps light, practically holding her breath. Where was he? Was he still in the cabin or had he come back into the house?

Blake ventured into the living room, saw the single lamp that sat on the end table lit and a fire roaring in the river rock fireplace. The room was warm and cozy. Inviting. She wanted to grab the thick blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and wrap it around her. Stare at the fire with a hot mug of coffee in her hands and just enjoy the quiet.

But she couldn’t. She needed to find the man who created this serene quiet first.

A sound came from the kitchen and she followed it, nerves slowing her pace, doubt making her wonder if she should turn around and go hide. Make him come to her.

No. She stood straighte

r and took a deep breath. She would go to him. She was being foolish.

When she entered the kitchen, his back was to her. He stood by the sink, the water was on and she saw he was washing his hands. The sleeves of his dark green thermal Henley were pushed up, revealing his strong forearms and thick wrists. His arms were beautiful, his entire body was beautiful, and a needful ache started deep in her chest, blooming outward through her limbs.

Mason shut off the water and reached for a paper towel, tearing it off with a zipping rip. He dried his hands, turned to toss the damp towel in the trash when his gaze lit upon her.

“Blake.” His voice sounded strangled, a little hoarse and she knew she’d surprised him.