Page 74 of Property of Tacoma
“You’ve tasted it four times already, Angel. It’s fine.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see my face. “It’s not fine. Something’s missing.”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice dropping to that deep, growly tone that makes my toes curl. “You naked in our bed is what’s missing.”
Our bed.
Heat floods my cheeks, and I glance over at the kitchen island where Saylor and Jagger are working on their homework.
Thankfully, they’re too focused on their assignments to hear their dad.
“Behave,” I hiss, elbowing him gently in the ribs.
He chuckles and presses a kiss to my neck before pulling away to grab a beer from the fridge. “Ain’t a man on this planet who’d disagree.”
Heat spreads across my cheeks as I try not to smile.
Lord, have mercy.
He’s full of it.
Turning my attention back to the stove, I stir the ground beef I’m browning on the stove for the famous Million Dollar Spaghetti I’m making for dinner.
It’s my first time cooking for all of them, and I’m nervous as hell.
I want it to be perfect.
“Cali?” Saylor’s voice pipes up from the island.
My heart does a little flip whenever she calls me by my real name. I turn to face her, spoon in hand. “Yeah, sweetie?”
“Are you coming with us to the fall fair?” Her blue eyes—so like her father’s—are wide with excitement. “It’s the first weekend in October every year, and it’s the best thing ever! They have a Ferris wheel and games and cotton candy, and last year I won a stuffed unicorn that was this big!” She stretches her arms out as wide as they’ll go.
“The whole town goes,” Jagger adds, looking up from his algebra homework. “It’s actually pretty cool.”
Coming from a sixteen-year-old boy, that’s high praise indeed.
“I’d love to come,” I tell them, and the smile that breaks across Saylor’s face is worth everything.
It hits me then, as I stand here in this kitchen with these people who’ve somehow become so important to me in such a short time—I’ve been in Odin for three weeks now.
Three whole weeks.
I can’t remember the last time I stayed in one place for so long.
For as long as I’ve been an adult, my life has been a whirlwind, never getting too comfortable, never staying in one place for very long.
And yet here I am, making dinner in Tacoma’s kitchen like I belong here.
The strangest part?
I do feel like I belong here.
Being with Tacoma and his children has been the best three weeks of my life. I’ve never felt so content, so at peace.
“There’s a petting zoo too,” Saylor continues, oblivious to my internal revelation. “And pony rides and?—”
“And the best funnel cake you’ve ever tasted,” Tacoma interjects, leaning against the counter with his beer. His eyes are soft as he watches me stir the meat, and something warm unfurls in my chest.
