Reputation (Mason Family 2)

Bellamy walks around the corner of the house with her arms wrapped across her middle.

My instincts light up as I take in her every move—the easy smile on her face, the softness of her shoulders. The way she ruffles the little girl’s hair as she talks to the woman. She seems to be happy and relaxed unlike earlier.

Before I can process that, the little girl whips around and points at me.

“There he is!” she shouts, her voice weaving amongst the tree branches.

I tuck my chin and start to turn back toward the house, but I’m not fast enough.

“Hey! Mister! How do you feel?” she shouts.

I can’t avoid the question because it’s obvious I heard her. People a block over probably heard her too.

I hold up a hand. “I’m good. Thanks. Have a good day.”

The little girl is having no part of that. She races across the driveway and crosses the Davenport’s lawn. The woman follows as quickly as she can in heels. Bellamy trails them with a look of fire in her eyes.

I head back to the roses and await the ambush.

“Did my daughter hit you today?” the woman asks. She stops in front of me with Bree at her side. “Yikes. She did, didn’t she?”

“It’s okay. Honestly.” I avoid Bellamy’s glare. “It’s not a big deal at all.”

“Mom, he’s fine,” Bree says. “I already apologized, and we’re friends now. Right?”

“Yup. We’re friends now.”

Bree looks up at her mom. “Did you know he played baseball and piano? He’s my hero.”

The woman narrows her eyes as she studies me. “You’re Coy Mason, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m Lauren Stahl. It’s nice to meet you.”

Bellamy pins me in place with a look that could kill. I’m sure it’s a warning, but all it does is turn me on.

My initial hesitation about this impromptu meet-and-greet is replaced with satisfaction. I don’t love that Bellamy is telling me to eat-shit-and-die, but it’ll give me material for later.

“Lauren, Coy is fine,” Bellamy says. “See? Bree was just overly concerned.”

“I think it’s sweet of Bree,” I say back. “Considerate kids are a hallmark of good parenting.”

“Like you know anything about parenting,” Bellamy huffs.

“I know Bree is a sweet girl,” I lobby back, just to see what she’ll say.

Bellamy’s not entertained. “Bree is a sweet girl. Thank you for noticing.”

I grin. “I notice everything, Bells.”

Her hands go to her hips as if she needs to display her disapproval physically.

“Mom, he was going to teach me to throw a curveball today, but Bellamy said we should ask you,” Bree says, tugging on her mom’s hand. “Could he teach me? Would you mind?”

“Oh, honey,” Lauren says, her eyes glued to me with that hazy look that women get sometimes. “Coy doesn’t have time to play with you.”

“He’s really busy,” Bellamy adds from behind them. “We probably shouldn’t even be talking to him right now.”

I read the warning she’s flashing me this time loud and clear. Unfortunately for her, there’s no fun in that.

“You know,” I say, twisting my lips. “I’m not busy. I have a little time on my hands these days.”

“See? I told you!” Bree says, jumping up and down.

Bellamy shakes her head, and steam practically comes from her ears. It’s adorable.

“Are you sure?” Lauren asks, obviously loving the idea of her child being tutored by me.

“Oh, yeah,” I say, grinning at Bells. “If Bellamy wants to bring her over, I’d be happy to teach her how to throw a ball. Or to play the piano. You said you liked that, too, right, Bree?”

“Yes!” Bree squeals. “Mom, please. Please say he can help me. No offense, but you and Bellamy don’t know anything about this kind of stuff, and I need a mentor.”

Well played, kid.

“Everyone good has a mentor,” Bree continues. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

I fold my arms across my chest and level my gaze at Bellamy.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. The last thing I need in my life is to have a little kid running around and asking me a million questions. But having Bells come around while I’m in town? Worse things could happen.

For me, anyway.

Irritating her is fun. It’s our natural balance. It’s what we do.

We bicker and get under each other’s skin … and then a handful of times, we got under each other. And then we go on about our lives.

She presses her full lips together, and it triggers a ripple of goose bumps down my skin.

Damn.

“Coy, I’d pay you,” Lauren says. “As you can see, my daughter is very driven and mature for her age. She would eat up this opportunity, and your generosity floors me.”

Me, too.

“I couldn’t accept payment,” I say, my face burning from the force of Bellamy’s stare. “But I’d be more than happy to help. Maybe Bellamy could bring her by tomorrow morning. Around eleven?”

We all turn to look at Bellamy. Exasperation is etched all over her pretty face.