Her little face scrunches. “I’m not a duck, I’m a penguin. See?” She emphasizes her walk, rocking side to side as she continues to waddle back and forth across the bathroom floor.
“Okay. Okay. Come on. We need to hurry.” I snatch the brush from her hands, to which she gives me a disapproving whine. “Sorry, baby. We just need to finish up. Mrs. Pennington is waiting for us. It’s rude to make people wait.”
Kaylie swishes from side to side as I try to pull her hair into two even ponytails on the sides of her head. Asking her to hold still when she’s this excited is pointless, and I’ve learned to pick my battles. She’s just turned six. Lopsided pigtails for a day aren’t going to be the end of the world.
“There. All done. Let’s go.” I give her a little pat on the butt. She spins and glares at me, her little brows furrowed, but then she breaks into a smile and runs down the hall. “No running in the house!” I shout, following after her.
Mrs. Pennington is sitting on the couch where we left her, with her purse and a file in her lap. “Oh, well, aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” Kaylie’s cheeks turn red, but her smile doesn’t falter. “Can you go play with your toys while I talk to your sister for a few minutes? It’s going to be a very boring grown-up conversation.”
“I want to color at the table, Sissy.” Kaylie looks to me, ignoring the woman’s request. She’s familiar with Mrs. Pennington. She remembers her taking her to someone else’s home, to people she didn’t know, while she waited for me to come and get her. It’s hard for someone so small to comprehend everything that’s happened. She fears being taken from me and likes to keep me close when she feels uncertain.
“Of course, baby.” I lean down and whisper, “Why don’t you go get Winston and your coloring book? I’ll put a cup of juiceand a snack on the table for you. Deal?” Mrs. Pennington doesn’t look too happy with my decision to allow Kaylie to stay close, but I don’t give a crap. The truth is, after the uneasiness of last night, and now with Mrs. Pennington springing a surprise visit on us, I want Kaylie within my sight.
Once Kaylie is settled with her food and colors, Mrs. Pennington starts right in. “I’m here because a police report came across my boss’s desk claiming that not only was your shop vandalized, but that you and Kaylie have been seen hanging around with a gang of bikers, which may be the reason your store was attacked. The report spoke of concerns for Kaylie’s safety. I’m here to find out what’s really going on. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“I’m not hanging out with agangof bikers, Mrs. Pennington. The Kings of Fury are a motorcycle club, and they happen to own the security company that oversees my salon’s system.” I answer, feeling angry at her for blaming them for any of this.
Hypocrite.
I may have told Mason I thought they were to blame, but I’m not even sure I believe that anymore. I certainly won’t allow anyone else to blame them or believe that they would harm me or Kaylie.
“And is that why the two of you spent several days with them over the holidays? Because they watch over your business’s security system?” Mrs. Pennington asks with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“We were there for a wedding,” I reply, scrutinizing the woman in front of me who seems hell-bent on making assumptions. “I was hired to do the bride and her wedding party’s hair for the occasion. The Kings were gracious enough to give us a room when the snowstorm hit, giving us shelter for a few days until it was safe enough for us to drive back home.”
The lock on the front door turns, and the handle jiggles. Mrs. Pennington turns from where she sits on the couch. I hop up, moving toward the door. The only person who has a key to the front door is Mason, and although I thought it would’ve been him coming in this morning with breakfast, now is not the time for him to be here.
I catch the handle and push the door against Mason’s booted foot. His brow furrows. “What the hell, babe? Let me in.”
Shit.
“Mason,honey. I didn’t expect you so early,” I say, giving him a pointed look, hoping he plays along. I swing the door open just as Kaylie comes running up to us.
“Mason!” she squeals. “Did you bring me pancakes?”
Mason squats down to her level, handing her the bag in his hands. “Nope. But I did bring you a banana muffin and some chocolate milk. Will that do?”
Kaylie taps her chin as if deep in thought. “Yes!” She snags the bag and runs for the table.
“No running!” We both shout at the same time.
“Who’s your friend, Miss Greene?” Mrs. Pennington asks, standing up, with her arms crossed and her brow raised. The look on her face is disapproving, as if she caught me in a lie. But it’s the judgement I see glaring back at Mason that causes something in me to snap.
“This is Mason, myfiancé.” Miss Pennington’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Though she doesn’t look half as shocked or confused as Mason. “I was about to tell you about him, but, well, now here he is in the flesh.”
“Your fiancé? I didn’t know you were engaged to abiker,” she replies. Her disparaging tone grates on my every nerve.
“Makes two of us,” Mason mumbles quietly beside me where only I can hear. I cut him a glare, begging him toshut upand gowith it.His wicked smirk tells me he’s with me, but I’m going to pay for this later. I have no doubt.
Mrs. Pennington assesses Mason, taking in his leather cut and patches with a condemning frown. “And is he part of the gang the report spoke of? The ones who destroyed your shop and put you and Kaylie in danger?” Her voice is full of condemnation, and I find myself overcome with the need to protect Mason. “Is this some kind of fraud scheme for the insurance?”
“I told you,” I grind out, fighting desperately not to lose my shit. “The Kings are not agang,and to presume the damage to my shop is intentional or is in any way connected to the Kings without physical evidence is both rude and presumptuous.” I cross my arms over my chest. “All the cops found was a man with a tattoo. Now, I don’t know what your experience is, but I know several people who have tattoos and, believe it or not, they’re not all bikers. Just regular everyday Joes with ink on their skin.”
Mason wraps his arm around my waist, pulling my back to his chest and whispers loud enough for her to hear, “It’s okay, baby. She doesn’t know me. I would be concerned if she didn’t question the type of man I am, especially since we’re getting married and I’ll be responsible for you girls.”
He kisses my temple softly, and damn if I don’t shudder. Mason notices, and the asshole chuckles.
“How long have you two been dating?” Mrs. Pennington asks, still sounding unconvinced.
