Page 101 of Property of Tacoma
I glance up to find my brother approaching with two cups in his hands.
“Mason!” I grin, patting the spot Tacoma just left. “What are you doing here?”
He hands me one of the cups and drops down beside me with a grunt. “Was on a run to Gulf Shores, thought I’d stop in and check on you on my way back to Jacksonville.” He shrugs, taking a sip from his cup.
“What is this?” I wiggle the cup in my hand.
“Dr. Pepper.”
I take a sip. Mmm. My favorite.
“Where’s your shadow? I’m surprised he’s not up your ass.”
I snort, nearly choking on my drink. “See for yourself.”
I point toward the Pirate Ship line where Tacoma is standing directly between Saylor and the blonde kid, his arms crossed over his chest like some biker bodyguard.
Mason follows my finger and starts laughing. “What’d the kid do?”
“He was holding Saylor’s hand,” I explain, grinning. “Tacoma’s putting the kibosh on that love connection real quick.”
“Love connection?” Mason chuckles, shaking his head. “They’re what, ten?”
“Yeah.” I lean my head on his shoulder, feeling the familiar comfort of my big brother beside me. “But you know Tacoma.”
“Yeah, I do.” Mason’s quiet for a moment. “How you been?”
I shrug. “Good. Just got home last night from a job.”
He grunts. “You look tired.”
“Thanks,” I mutter sarcastically. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
“You know what I mean.” He bumps his shoulder against mine. “How are things here? With Tacoma? The Kings? They treating you right?”
Warmth blooms in my chest. For all his overbearing bullshit, Mason loves me. He just has a shitty way of showing it sometimes.
I lift my head from his shoulder and smile at him. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been, Mason. Really.”
His eyes search mine for a long moment, then he nods, seemingly satisfied. “Good. That’s good, sis.”
The sound of heavy boots on gravel announces Tacoma’s return. He’s got Saylor’s hand firmly in his, and she’s pouting up at him with those big blue eyes that are carbon copies of his own.
“But Daddy?—”
“No buts,” Tacoma says firmly. “You’re ten years old. That’s too young for boys.”
“You said I couldn’t date until I was thirty,” she protests, pulling her hand free and planting both on her hips. “We weren’t dating. We were just holding hands!”
“Same difference.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
Mason stands, extending his hand to Tacoma.
“Chief,” Tacoma greets, shaking it firmly.
“Tacoma,” Mason replies with a smirk. “Terrorizing little boys now?”
