“Uh-uh, no eye-rolling.” He waggled a finger at her. “Now, I need to do your hair.”
“Only Wolfie does my hair.”
Caleb sighed. “He’ll have to get over it. I need to have a chat with him about that rule. I think there’s an easel around here you can use to paint. We’ll need a cover-up for your clothes and a stool for you to sit on.”
She shifted around on her chair. “I wanna stand.”
“Nope. Not with your ankle still healing.”
“But my bottom is still healing.”
“Like I told you, that’s part of the punishment.”
Well. That just sucked.
* * *
“It’s a bird.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Oh, I know. A unicorn. Silly me.”
“It’s not a unicorn, Daddy,” she told him. “It’s so obvious what it is, why can’t you tell? Are you saying I’m not good at painting, Daddy?”
It was very hard to keep a straight face, considering her painting was basically a giant blob of pink and white in the middle surrounded by swirls of blue and green with a bit of black for good measure.
Kind of hard to guess what it was when it wasn’t anything.
But hey, he deserved payback for stealing her nose, right?
“Of course not,” he said, starting to look somewhat panicked. “It’s a beautiful picture.”
She sniffled. “No, it isn’t. It’s terrible. You have no idea what it is.”
He turned his gaze to her, his eyes narrowing. “Are you having—”
The door opened, interrupting him. Which was just as well since she was pretty certain he’d caught on to her ruse.
Whoops.
Wolfe walked in then stopped short, staring at them both. She was sitting on a stool that Caleb had retrieved from the kitchen, in front of the easel, she had a plastic jacket on over her clothes to protect them. Her paints sat alongside her on another stool.
After finishing her hair, Caleb had been doing something on his phone while she worked on her masterpiece. She wasn’t sure if he was working or not. Hopefully, he wasn’t buying her more clothes since it would take her a lifetime to wear out the ones in the wardrobe.
He’d made her stop for some lunch, but then she’d gotten straight back to work on her masterpiece.
“Hi Wolfie. I’m painting a picture. Want to guess what it is?” she said cheerfully.
She ignored the way Caleb shook his head warningly at Wolfe.
He studied her with narrowed eyes. “Who the fuck did your hair?”
“Wolfe, no swearing in the playroom,” Caleb warned.
“Daddy did. Why?” Did it look bad?
Wolfe turned to Caleb. “Her hair is mine.”