Page 37 of Property of Tacoma
Chief made it clear she’s off limits, and getting involved with her could jeopardize our business with the Saints.
But since the minute I clapped eyes on her, something shifted in me.
Something I haven’t felt in a long, long time.
Something I’m not sure I’m ready to examine too closely.
I round the corner to find Foxy sitting at the table with Ma, Jagger, and Saylor. Panda is curled in her lap, munching on what looks like a cookie, while Saylor chatters excitedly, her hands moving animatedly. My Ma is watching with amusement, and even my boy seems charmed.
Foxy’s eyes find mine across the room, and for a moment, everything else fades away.
There’s a question in those emerald depths, a curiosity that matches my own.
Who are you? What is this between us?
I don’t have answers. Not yet. But as I cross the room to join them, one thing becomes crystal clear.
I’m going to find out, no matter what Chief or anyone else has to say about it.
“Hey,” I say, sliding into the chair next to her. “How you holding up?”
She smiles, that same smile that’s been messing with my head all day. “I’m good. Your family is... nice.”
I snort at that. “They’re something, alright.”
“How’s your brother?” she asks, her voice dropping slightly.
“He’ll live. Coupla’ broken ribs, needs some stitches.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for something deeper, and I find myself wanting to give her more. To tell her everything. But that’s not how this works. Club business stays with the club, no matter how much my gut tells me she can be trusted.
“Good,” she says finally. “That’s good.”
Saylor interrupts, climbing into my lap. “Daddy, can Foxy stay for dinner? Please? She says Panda can do tricks!”
I look at Foxy, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Just a few,” she admits with a shrug. “Sit, stay, roll over. The basics.”
“You taught a raccoon to do dog tricks?” I ask, genuinely impressed.
“I had a lot of time on my hands,” she says, something flashing behind her eyes that I can’t quite read.
“So can she?” Saylor presses, bouncing on my leg.
I meet Foxy’s gaze again, and there’s that pull, that invisible tether drawing me in. “That’s up to her, princess.”
Foxy hesitates, and I can see her weighing her options. Chief would probably want her to head back to Jacksonville right away, especially after the incident with the Sinners. But something tells me she’s not in any rush to report back.
“I’d love to stay for dinner,” she says finally, and Saylor squeals with delight.
My mother stands up, clapping her hands together. “Wonderful! I’ll whip something up in the kitchen.”
“I can help,” Foxy offers, starting to rise.
Mom waves her off. “Nonsense. You’re our guest. Besides, I’ve been itching to try out this new recipe I found online.”
Jagger rolls his eyes behind her back, and I stifle a laugh. My mother’s cooking experiments are legendary among the club—and not always in a good way.
