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Pippa
“Wait here.” Mason’s deep voice sent a shiver through Pippa. The cab of his truck smelled like him, intoxicating her with a clean, masculine scent. He walked around the front of the truck towards her side.
Aspen sighed in the back seat.
Lady’s brown eyes settled on her as the dog laid her head on Pippa’s knees. Unease swirled in her belly. Not here. Not today.
Pippa reached out and offered Lady her hand. “Check me.”
Her door opened. Mason held out a hand to help her down as Lady sniffed her and then licked her, signaling there was no threat of an oncoming seizure.
“Good girl.” Pippa scratched behind her ear and slipped her other palm into Mason’s. Energy crackled, zipping up her arm. Is this an aura? Am I going to have a seizure after all?
She stepped out of the truck, careful to watch her step. Mason kept her steady as she made it to the ground. Lady exited and sat beside her while Mason opened the back door for his daughter.
Aspen shot out of the car, a little blue purse crisscrossing her body. She rolled her eyes. “Do you have to do that every time, Dad? We are perfectly capable of opening our own doors. I am a woman now, you know.”
Pippa bit back a smile and flicked her gaze to Mason as he slung his arm over Aspen’s shoulders.
“I know that, sweet pea, and that’s why I do it—so you know how you should be treated by a future partner.”
Damn. If Pippa hadn’t been taken with the big warrior before, there was no chance for her now.
They walked towards the mall entrance as Aspen asked, “What if I’m the one who wants to open the doors?”
Pippa giggled. Mason’s gaze shot to hers, a flash of humor reflecting back as if to say, I might be in over my head with this, but I’m doing my best here.
“When the time comes, you can do that. For now, I got it. Let me enjoy the few years I have left of spoiling you.” Mason reached his hand to Aspen’s head, bringing her closer so he could kiss her temple. She playfully pushed him away before he opened the main doors for them to walk through. Who said chivalry was dead?
Aspen ran inside and opened the second set of doors, smirking at her father. He just shook his head and walked in after Pippa. It was something to behold, witnessing a giant man’s man like Mason being wrapped around such a small girl’s finger.
“You two are hilarious,” Pippa mused as they headed towards a department store.
Mason’s hand brushed against her arm as they entered the outlet, and a shiver cascaded through her. Pippa’s brows pulled together as she drew in a sharp breath. Mason’s gaze cut to hers before he looked away.
“So, what are we looking for? A specific style or color?” Pippa asked, walking over to a rack of clothes by Aspen.
“Something magical.” Aspen beamed.
“And something modest,” Mason added.
Aspen rolled her eyes. “Modesty is a patriarchal concept created to keep women subservient to men.”
Pippa stopped walking, studying the father-daughter duo as Mason shrugged like this was just any other day and conversation for them.
“True, but it’s my job to protect you, and I know that certain clothing will attract unwanted attention.” Mason grabbed a long-sleeved, floor-length dress and held it out to Aspen.
Aspen’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms and shook her head. “That’s victim blaming. Women can wear what we want, and no one has the right to touch us without consent.” She grabbed a much shorter spaghetti-strapped dress from another rack.
Pippa’s eyes volleyed back and forth between the two.
Mason sighed. “Fair enough. You’re right. Unfortunately, the world hasn’t caught up with those basic concepts of autonomy and consent, so put your dad out of his misery and wear something that doesn’t give me a heart attack, or I’ll be chaperoning that dance.”
Aspen let out a huff of frustration. Pippa remembered being that age when she craved more independence. She could see where Mason was coming from too. They both had valid points, so how could they compromise?
“Well, that’s what I’m here for, right? Let’s see what we can find that fits all of your criteria,” Pippa suggested, taking Lady’s leash in one hand and Aspen’s hand in the other. She weaved through the store, searching for the elusive perfect dress.
“Is there a theme?”
