Daddy’s Orders (Silver Fox Daddies)

“Come on! You both have to see this!”

The following night the pizza was in the oven, Netflix was loaded up in the movie theater, and everything was set for a fun night with Marianne. The day had been perfect too, most of it spent either on the beach or in the library. I was still getting my head wrapped around my new freedom, but I was settling into it nicely.

“Easy, sis.” Logan spoke in a tone of dry amusement, as Marianne pulled him down one of the halls of her house. “You’re going to take my arm out of the socket if you’re not careful.”

I was still majorly on the fence with Logan, and not even close to forgiving him for how he’d treated me on the day we’d met. All the same, I knew for certain how I felt about his relationship with Marianne. He loved her and would do anything for her. However busy he might’ve been, whatever was on his mind, he always made time for her, always made sure she had his full attention.

It was enough to make me view Logan in a different light. He might’ve appeared cold, but the love he had for his sister caused me to wonder what other parts of his personality he was hiding away behind that hard, prickly exterior.

“Come on!”

Marianne’s house was adorable. The rest of Logan’s property was done in the same sort of sleek, modern style with the occasional flourish, but Marianne’s house was pure coziness, with farmhouse colors and furniture, pictures of inviting landscapes on the walls.

“Here!” Marianne stopped in front of a set of doors, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. “Geez, Logan! I think you’re getting fatter!”

“Pardon?” Logan raised an eyebrow in mild confusion.

“You’re like trying to drag a boulder!”

I couldn’t help but laugh, bringing my hand to my mouth. Logan shot me a glance of wry amusement.

“Anyway,” Marianne said. “I was originally going to just bring you here to the gallery, Emily. But I decided that it was time for me to show Logan what I’ve been working on, too.”

Logan crinkled his brow in mild confusion. “And what is it that you’re working on, exactly?”

Marianne reached over and gave him a playful shove. “I can’t tell you, that would ruin the surprise! But if you get your big butt in here, I can show you!”

With that, she opened the door and stepped inside.

“You too, Em! I mean, your butt’s not as big as Logan’s, but you get what I’m saying.”

Logan and I shared a look of amusement at his sister’s words.

Things between Logan and I had been strange. I’d made the decision to give him the cold shoulder after the way he’d treated me when we’d slept together. As time went on, however, I was finding it harder and harder to do.

Of course, how goddamn hot he was didn’t help matters. Logan was dressed casually, in khaki-colored linen pants, black loafers and a navy-blue button up shirt. He was the perfect blend of island cool and New York professional, and it was nearly impossible to take my eyes off him.

“Come on,” he said to me. “Let’s see what my sister has to show us.”

Without waiting for my reply, he headed into the room. I followed.

The studio was beautiful, the back wall one big window that looked out over the ocean, the sun setting in the distance with gorgeous colors over the water, the palms spread out before us, the water sparkling as though it were magical. The other walls were covered in paintings, all of them hidden behind cloth. A table in the middle of the room was packed with painting supplies. An easel was in the center of the space, the painting it held also covered.

“This place is amazing,” I said. “But… can I look at any of these?”

Marianne shook her head. “I can show you all my projects later. I like to keep them covered when I’m working—it makes it easier to focus on what’s in front of me. And with what I’m working on now, I want it to have all of my attention.”

Logan stepped over to the easel, taking the fabric cover and lifting it a bit.

“How long are you going to keep us in suspense for, Mar?”

Marianne’s hand shot out, giving her brother a quick rap on the knuckles.

“Not so fast!” she exclaimed. “I need to introduce it.”

Logan dropped the cloth, another amused smile on his face. “Fine, fine.”

Marianne took her position in front of the easel, clasping her hands behind her back and squaring her shoulders. When she was ready, she cleared her throat and began.

“I don’t paint people very often,” she said. “People can be complicated, and hard to draw. Not to mention that not everyone wants to sit still for a painting. So, for this piece, I decided to paint the only person I know so well that I didn’t have to have him sit down—I know his face by memory.”

She turned to Logan and smiled.

“It’s you!” she said, beaming. “I think it’s my best painting ever. Well, so far, at least.” Marianne glanced away for a moment, as if giving the matter some serious thought. The smile returned to her face, and she gave a crisp nod, seemingly deciding that yes, this was her best painting ever.

“You did a painting of me?” Hesitancy edged his words.

Concern appeared on Marianne’s face. “Are you mad? I mean, no one else has to see it. I just thought it’d be nice, you know?”

Logan offered an easy smile, placing his hand on his sister’s arm.

“Not mad at all. Just surprised.”

Marianne grinned. “That was the idea. I wanted it to be a fun surprise!”

My eyes went to the easel, curiosity building by the moment. I’d noticed in the main house that there weren’t any pictures of Logan, Marianne, or any other family members. Logan didn’t seem to be sentimental in that way at all. The idea of him having a painting of himself seemed odd. All the same, I couldn’t wait to see what Marianne had created.

“I can’t wait!” I said, clasping my hands together.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Logan was still hesitant. He stood with his brow furrowed, his hand on his chin.

“Alright! Without further ado…” She took the cloth by the top and lifted it, exposing the painting.

On the canvas, he was dressed in a sharp suit, standing before a half-finished background of New York, the setting his office. He seemed aloof. One hand was on his desk, the other tucked into his front pocket. Everything about him in the painting seemed intense and unapproachable.

At first, I found myself wondering if it was an uncharitable depiction. The more I looked at it, however, the more I realized that it was truly accurate. Logan was as cold and unapproachable as he appeared in the painting. His power, not to mention his good looks, had been captured excellently. But Marianne had caught something else, too. It was that intangible wall that Logan put out, the way he could instantly construct a barrier between himself and anyone else with just a look or a word.

I knew that wall all too well.

Silence hung in the air. It wasn’t long before worry appeared on Marianne’s face.

“Do you guys… not like it?”

“No!” I replied. “It’s not that at all. I mean, it’s incredible. But good art makes you think. And this is definitely good art.”

Marianne grinned with relief. “OK, great.” Her concerns partially relieved, she turned to Logan. “What about you?”

More silence followed. Logan kept his eyes locked on the painting. Whether or not he was doing it intentionally, his hand was in his pocket the same way that Marianne had painted.

Finally, he spoke. “Why do I look so angry?”

Marianne appeared confused. “Angry? Do you think you look angry in the picture?”

“A little bit.” I could sense that Logan was measuring his words carefully, not wanting to make his sister upset. “It’s that look on my face.”

Marianne smiled. “Oh, that?” She laughed a bit, as if she’d thought of a private joke. “I call that your stress face.”

“My what?”

“It’s how you always look,” she said. “Even when you’re here on the island supposed to be relaxing.”

Logan said nothing, his eyes staying on the painting.

“Your resting stress face,” I said with a smile.

Logan didn’t laugh. He didn’t even acknowledge that I’d said anything. Tension filled the air by the moment.

“Do you like it?” Marianne asked barely above a whisper.

A small, forced smile appeared on his face. “Sorry. Like Emily said, good art makes you think. It’s beautiful, Mar.” He stepped over to his sister and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You did well.” Without waiting for a response, he glanced over at me. “Good night to you both.”

Logan turned and left. I watched him go and listened as the sound of his shoes on the tile floor faded into the distance.

Once he was gone, Marianne sighed, shaking her head. “You know what I wish?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“I wish that Logan were happier.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Her words lingered in the air, my gaze staying on the painting.

“OK!” Marianne exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “It’s Bridesmaids time! Come on!”

She didn’t give me a chance to react before grabbing me by the hand and pulling me out of the room, only stopping to throw the curtain back over the painting. We hurried down the hall, outside to the garden, then back into the main house. Fifteen minutes later, we were seated in the big basement movie theater, pizza and soda in front of us and Bridesmaids playing on the huge screen.

I’d seen the film before, and while it was just as hilarious the second time around, I couldn’t help but think about Logan. The painting had evoked a sense of just how unhappy Logan seemed. It was strange—the man was successful and wealthy and powerful but lived a life that seemed oddly isolated. That is, aside from his sister.

He had all the ingredients for a happy life. Instead, he spent most of his time tense, a wall between him and everyone else. Not to mention how his livelihood involved dealing with scuzzy pricks like my dad.

The way he treated Marianne, along with the occasional glimpses of humor and warmth that would slip through his stony, stoic façade, made me certain that there was something more to him. I knew that he was capable of kindness.

I had a hell of a lot to think about.