Page 45 of Property of Tacoma

“About damn time. You on your way back?”

I take a deep breath. “Actually, no. I’m going to stay in Odin for a couple more days.”

There’s a long pause, and I can practically hear the gears turning in my brother’s head. “Why?”

“The job was more... complicated than expected. I want to make sure everything’s taken care of.” It’s not a complete lie.

There was a dead mayor, after all.

Another pause. “Does this have anything to do with Tacoma?”

My eyes flick to the man in question, who’s leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching me. “No,” I lie.

Mason sighs heavily. “Cali?—”

“I’ll be fine,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear any lectures tonight. “I’m a big girl, remember?”

“That’s what worries me,” he mutters. “Call me tomorrow.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be careful.”

The line goes dead, and I hand the phone back to Tacoma. “He’s not happy, but he’s not sending a search party either.”

Tacoma sets the phone down and moves toward me, his movements deliberate, predatory. “Good.”

My heart hammers in my chest as he reaches me, his hands settling on my hips. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

The hunger in his eyes makes me shiver with anticipation. “Is that right?”

“That’s right,” he murmurs, his mouth hovering just above mine. “Not by a long shot.”

As his lips descend on mine again, I know I’ve made my choice.

For better or worse, I’m doing this.

CHAPTER TEN

The moment we step out the back doors of the clubhouse, Foxy reaches for my hand, threading her slender fingers through mine.

My head jerks down to our joined hands, the simple gesture catching me off guard.

When was the last time I held a woman’s hand?

Had to be with Jennifer, and that feels like a goddamn lifetime ago.

“This place isn’t what I expected,” Foxy says, her voice soft in the night air.

“Yeah? What’d you expect?” I ask, genuinely curious about what she thought she’d find here.

She points over her shoulder at the clubhouse. “Not that. Not the family dinner. Not your mom fussing over everyone or your dad telling old stories.”

I nod, thinking about the family-style dinner my mother put together tonight.

My lips twitch as I mentally roll my eyes.

Ma had her reasons for going all out—she’s always trying to play matchmaker.