Page 16 of Property of Tacoma
Melanie narrows her eyes at my daughter before turning on her heel and storming back to her car, much like my ex just did. In a cloud of dust, throwing up gravel, the BMW peels out of the compound.
“Sorry about that, princess,” I murmur to Saylor, setting her down gently.
“Who’s the chick?” Jagger asks, nodding at Foxy, who’s been watching the whole scene with barely concealed amusement.
“This is Foxy,” I say. “She’s... a business associate.”
“I’m helping your dad with a project,” Foxy adds smoothly, extending her hand to my son. “Nice to meet you.”
Jagger takes her hand and shakes it, which surprises me. He’s usually kind of an asshole around strangers, especially women I bring around.
“Jagger,” he says.
“And this is my girl, Saylor.”
Saylor peeks out from behind my back, suddenly shy. “Hi,” she whispers.
A loud bang draws all our attention to Foxy’s RV. Standing in one of the windows, surrounded by shredded mini-blinds, is what appears to be...
“Is that a raccoon?” I ask, not sure if I’m seeing things.
“For the time being,” Foxy sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m seriously thinking about turning him into a damn hat if he doesn’t stop tearing shit up.” She immediately grimaces and looks down at Saylor. “Shit.” She grimaces when she cusses again. “Sorry.”
Saylor giggles, and my lips turn up.
“Can we see it?” Jagger asks, surprising the fuck out of me.
“Please, can we?” Saylor adds, tugging on my hand.
I glance at my son, caught off guard by his interest in anything other than his phone.
“Sure,” Foxy says casually. “If it’s okay with your dad.” She looks at me and bites her lip, a gesture that sends another jolt of heat through me.
I consider it for a moment. “Yeah, but we gotta make it quick.” I give her a look, and her head tips subtly in understanding. We have a job to do. Soon rather than later.
Saylor squeals with delight as we follow Foxy up the steps into her RV. Inside, I’m immediately impressed. This isn’t just any recreational vehicle—it’s a top-of-the-line, luxury house on wheels. High-end finishes everywhere, from the polished wood cabinets to the granite countertops. There’s a full kitchen, a living area with a large flat-screen TV, and what looks like a bedroom in the back. The whole place is decorated in shades of black, white, and pink, with crystal accents that catch the light.
“Whoa,” Jagger breathes, eyes blown wide. “This is sick.”
“Thanks,” Foxy says, clearly pleased by his reaction. “I spend a lot of time on the road when I’m—” Her gaze shifts to me before going back to Jag. “Working. So I wanted it to feel like home.”
“This place must have cost a whack,” Jag says distractedly, eyeing the raccoon.
Saylor squeals again when Foxy reaches into what’s left of the window blinds and extracts the raccoon, holding it on her hip like a baby. The animal is surprisingly docile, looking around with curious dark eyes.
“Actually, it was a gift from a client,” she says, answering Jag’s question before introducing the rodent in her arms. “This is Panda.”
Saylor’s eyes are big as she watches Foxy with the animal. “Why did you name him Panda?”
“Because this little turd is a trash panda,” Foxy explains, scratching under the raccoon’s chin. “He loves getting into everything. Including garbage. He’s a scavenger.”
“What’s a scavenger?” Saylor asks, tipping her head up at me for an answer.
“It’s an animal that eats whatever it can find,” Jagger explains with the world-weary authority of a sixteen-year-old. “Like leftover food and stuff.”
Saylor screws up her nose. “Yuck.”
“You want to hold him?”
