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Mason
Mason’s gaze darted to the gorgeous woman on the other side of Aspen as they walked towards the canvas Seafood Fest sign in the center of Green Park.
Pippa’s eyes locked with his and she smiled. Something clamored loose in his chest, darting around and knocking his rib cage like a drunken moth.
Pippa licked her lips as they passed the first couple tables, her hand on Lady’s leash. Vendors lined either side of the gravel walking path. Local farmers offered their produce and products. Artists had tables to sell their wares. But the big draw was the seafood. Fishermen were everywhere, and offered fresh, sustainable, wild-caught fish and seafood. Beyond them were a few food trucks off to the side by the shade of the trees. Music bled from a bluegrass band on the pop-up stage to their left.
“What kind of seafood do you like?” Mason asked.
“I love it all, except raw oysters.” Pippa stuck her tongue out and grimaced.
He chuckled. She was adorable. “Really? No oysters?”
Pippa’s nose scrunched up, and she shook her head. “They’re like a ball of snot. No, thanks.”
“Please tell me you aren’t getting a lobster, Dad,” Aspen piped up.
“Of course I’m getting a couple.”
“Daaaad. They’re so freaky-looking,” Aspen whined.
Pippa’s gaze darted to the first artist’s table, Poseidon’s Treasure. Her eyes roamed over the fine gems and natural stones wrapped in silver or gold, lingering on the pearl jewelry.
“Do you want to stop and look?”
Pippa turned towards him and shook her head, tucking her arms under her breasts, inadvertently pushing them up. “No. That’s okay.”
His eyes dropped to her lush cleavage before he cleared his throat and searched the vendors for the one man he was looking for. Mason nodded. “There’s Nash’s table.”
“Nash?” Pippa asked.
“Yeah. Nash Emerson. Do you . . .” Of course. Pippa might not know the fisherman, but she knew his brother, Ricky. A fresh bout of jealousy burned in his gut. I made it clear she was the only woman I was . . . “friends” with. But is she still seeing other men?
“Oh, he’s the oldest Emerson brother, right?” Pippa’s eyes lit up with recognition.
“Yep,” Mason grumbled.
“Can we get some scallops?” Aspen asked.
“Sure, sweet pea.”
“Is that crawfish?” Pippa pointed to a table off to the right and clapped her hands together excitedly. “This is so cool. I’ve always wanted to have a big seafood bake-slash-crawfish boil.”
“Why don’t you do it?” he asked.
She shrugged, some of her earlier joy dimming from her eyes. “I don’t really have the space. And I don’t know who I’d invite.”
“What about Charli?”
“Charli is great. And so is Tammy, who used to work at the bookstore, but she just had a baby.”
“You should do it at our house! Dad has a lot of friends,” Aspen commented, wrapping her arm around Pippa’s.
Pippa smiled down at her. “That’s sweet, but I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” Mason asked.
Pippa’s mouth opened and closed as her eyes widened. “Because, well, I don’t want to impose.”
