Page 8 of Frank's Felon
Hell, he hadn’t thought about Mason smelling Delilah on him. Maybe he should have washed up first after all.
“Had fun out there, didn’t you?” Mason said, still grinning.
“None of your business,” Frank said, pushing his way past Mason.
“Hi, Frank!” Takara said, waving a slotted spoon from the kitchen.
He barely opened his mouth to say ‘hi’ when the couple’s five-year-old hellion ran up to him and latched onto his leg. Frank peered down to see a set of beautiful dark eyes staring up at him.
“What did I tell you about playing hard to get, Squirt?” he asked.
“I don’t know what that means,” she said, batting her big eyes at him.
“Of course, you don’t.” Mason was going to have a hell of a time keeping the males away from his daughter. She was going to be a knockout like her mother, and with that coy look of hers, hell. . . Maybe Frank should start teaching her how to defend herself.
With Frankie still holding onto his leg like he was some damn amusement park ride, Frank walked to the dining room table. She giggled the entire way. “I don’t want any excuses next time we’re at the playground. You’re gonna hold onto the ropes and swing like the other kids.”
“But I’m not strong enough,” she said, finally letting go and climbing into the chair next to him. Mason sat down opposite them.
“Who told you that? You just strangled the hel––”
“Frank!” Takara interrupted, holding her large belly with one hand and the spoon in the other.
“. . . heck out of my leg,” Frank finished. Then he looked back up at Takara to gage her reaction. “I wasn’t going to swear.”
“That’s right, Mama. Frank was only going to say hell. That’s not a bad word. Just a place where the white wolves go.”
Takara was glaring at Frank now. He looked to Mason, who conveniently rose from the table to bring the empty water pitcher into the kitchen for a refill. The enforcer knew better than to cross Takara, especially a very pregnant Takara.
“Coward,” Frank mumbled.
“Daddy’s not a coward,” Frankie said, her hands on her hips.
“Did I say he was?” Frank said.
“Yes.”
Hell, he really had to watch himself around her. She was getting too smart for, well, his good. “First off, I didn’t say all white wolves are bad. Just a few that I know. I mean, your mom and Kate are good white wolves, right?”
“And Uncle Hayden.”
“Yes. Him too. As for your dad, he’s not a coward and I shouldn’t have said that. I was only teasing. The type between friends.” He glanced sideways to Takara and Mason. Neither looked pleased with him. “Maybe I should get going.” He rose.
Frankie slipped her hand into his and tugged. “But we haven’t had any pie yet. Mama said it’s your favorite.
“Yes, Frank,” Takara said, still glaring. “Frankie and I made a peach pie, just for you. Stay.”
He swallowed hard. He had put his foot in it this time. Mason and Takara trusted him with Frankie, but he’d lose her, lose all of them if he didn’t figure out this parenting stuff. They were naturals at it. He had been home a little over a year, and he still didn’t have a clue of what to say or do half the time.
“Maybe you can save me a piece,” Frank said, pushing his chair out instead of sitting back down.
“Frank, it’s fine,” Mason said, his tone saying just that.
“Hel— I mean, heck. This is harder than training certain guards,” Frank said, hoping Mason would give him some direction. Frank felt lost, more lost than he had been in a long time. Was this why he had stopped coming to Sunday dinners two months back? Not knowing what to do, what to say, at least not around Francesca. She was so impressionable. He didn’t want to ruin everything for her, for Mason and Takara. They only invited him because they felt obligated. Five years in prison. It hadn’t been their fault. He told them that over and over again, but it never seemed to sink in.
“Frankie,” Takara said, as she headed into the kitchen. “Tell Uncle Frank that he better sit his ass back down until dinner is over.”
Frankie tugged on his shirt. “Mama said a bad word. She only does that when she’s mad.”
