Page 7 of Property of Prowler
Taylor gave him the stink eye as he leered at Cass walking away from him with their dinner. The way he pursed his lips while leaning sideways and watching her ass was gross. “She’s a kid, you jackass.” She slammed the door in his face.
“That perv will not be delivering here again,” Taylor declared with finality.
“Write your bad review, or whatever people your age do, but just don’t tell Dad, okay? He’ll do something alloverprotective dad-like.”
Cass opened the box and served them both a slice, handing Taylor her plate, then proceeding to the couch.
Taylor followed. She mirrored Cass as she sat. One leg tucked under her backside, the other toeing the carpet, half facing each other and half facing the TV at the same time.
“First off, drop thepeople my agecrap. I’m not ancient.” She knew Cass was teasing; she always did. “Second, your dad is levelheaded.”
Cass just stared in disbelief, and it was all Taylor could do not to laugh.
It wasn’t an out-and-out lie.
Taylor had never witnessed him in a hot-headed moment, but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind he had it in him lurking just under the surface, waiting to pounce if need be.
She took a bite of pizza, and that heavenly flavor exploded on her tongue … kinda. Vegan pizza didn’t exactly hit the same way. However, Cass had convinced her she could in fact live without cheese, but baby calves couldn’t live without their mothers.
That and all the other gross things Cass had showed her about the dairy industry had her saying no thank you. That didn’t mean she didn’t miss the high that came from the first bite of ooey-gooey cheese, but she agreed it wasn’t worth it. Pizza was still the perfect movie-watching entrée, vegan or not.
“Overprotective dad is what he’s supposed to be. Chin up, kiddo. That’s a good thing. Mine didn’t protect me from squat.” Least of all himself, she didn’t add.
Cass brought her slice to her mouth, almost like she was hiding behind it. “Yeah, but his overprotective dad is leveled up.”
Taylor just watched Cass take a bite and thoughtfully chew. Yeah, Prowler was in an MC, so there was no doubt they hurt people, but not just for fun.
That thought plagued her, though. Did Cass think he’d hurt someone willy-nilly?
If Taylor ignored Cass’s concern, she would be no better that her own mom, who looked the other way when her husband had boundary issues with her only daughter or fast fists with his sons. If only someone had taken their off-handed comments seriously and asked the tough questions.
While she didn’t get that vibe from Prowler, she wouldn’t blow off Cass’s concerns.
“Surely you don’t mean …” She didn’t finish her question as Cass met her gaze. Taylor’s heart cracked a little at the look in her blue eyes, identical to her father’s blue eyes, except laced with uncertainty.
Surely, she didn’t … “Your dad would never hurtyou, Cass. I may not have had stellar examples of a good parent, but I don’t think—” She caught herself defending him instead of listening to Cass. Again, that was her mother speaking from her mouth.
“Oh, god, no. I didn’t mean that.” Cass interrupted, horrified.
Thank God.
“I’m not saying my dad would hurt someone who cut him off in traffic or forgot the fire sauce with his tacos. I mean, guys like that.” She nodded at the front door, where the pervy pizza man had ogled her. “He wouldn’t hesitate if someone crosses anyone he considers family.”
Taylor released the breath she’d been holding, bracing herself for … she wasn’t sure what.
She had to agree with Cass. Prowler would rip the guy apart if he knew how he’d looked at his daughter with the intentions that were clear in his gaze. Hell, any of his brothers would—it was just the way of life for them.
“It’s one thing if he hurts real bad guys; it’s another if he goes after a pizza guy who is just an idiot and looks barely out of high school. I don’t want him to go to jail like Uncle Hunter and Uncle Sleeper. I may never see them again.”
Cass’s heartbreak was clear in her voice. Taylor knew about her incarcerated uncles. It was when she got to spend the most time with Cass. Prowler would get back late from his visits and sleep in the next day.
That had always made her curious. His prison visits shouldn’t have been the most exhausting day of the man’s week, but they always were.
While Prowler told her he visited them, he was vague about why it took so long. She had a sense that there was a lot more to it than taking too much time. She wasn’t sure what, but the man had his secrets.
He carried a sawed-off wooden bat in his saddlebag, for fuck’s sake. Plus, there was one just like it beside the front door, and a full-sized one under his bed. Either he was a closet baseball player for an underground midnight league for people who used short bats, or he was always expecting trouble.
In her experience, men who expected trouble that much usually did something to attract it.
