Annie grins in the rearview mirror at me. "Thank you. We've been blessed with a rich heritage and parents that made sure we knew how to run a good business."
We pull into a garage and park next to a large black pickup truck. It's muddy but appears to be a recent model. I guess it's Brady's, and it fits my image of what kind of men we're about to meet.
While neat, the space is full of stuff. Multiple pairs of snowshoes are hung on the wall, downhill skis are next to them, and mountain bikes hang from hooks in the ceiling. This is an active family. It occurs to me we don't know their last name.
We climb out of the Hummer, and our heels tap on the concrete as Carly and I follow Annie into the house. The front door closes behind us with a deep thump that blocks off all noise from outside. This place is solid as a rock, and it makes me wonder if there’s a sheet of metal hiding in the wood.
The aroma of thyme and sage roasting wafts toward us, and I assume we're having baked chicken. We’ve stepped onto tile, but it quickly turns to hardwood as we enter a great room that's more than two stories tall. Open beams frame their way up to a peak, and windows are set up high to let in light. A chandelier hangs down, and an oversized fireplace roars at the end of the room. I marvel at the huge logs that fit with the super-sized atmosphere.
Off to our left is the kitchen, separated by a deep green granite island. I turn toward the dark cherry cabinets that glow in soft light. Beyond them is a table set lit with candles. Heavy footsteps sound behind me, and we all turn toward the staircase off to the right of the great room.
Holy shit. The largest man I've ever seen is coming our way. He's close to seven feet with shoulders that must span the length of my arm. They taper down to a fit-looking waist and thighs the size of tree trunks. He's focused on Carly, and when her gaze manages to get to his face, he grins with bright white teeth.
"Ladies. So nice to have you here." He may have addressed all of us, but it's clear he's only seeing Carly. A flush rises to her cheeks when she puts her hand out and says, "Carly Cutler."
* * *
Part 2
Carly Le Roux. Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it? The moment Brady Le Roux touched me any doubt he was my destiny vanished. Even after discovering he’s more than just a man. And that wasn’t the only shock he had for me. But each new revelation exhilarates the warrior in me -- I’m here to stay. I think I may have been born for this…
My name is Brady, and as the alpha of the Le Roux Clan I need a strong mate. Carly Cutler may have had my heart the first time I saw her in my dreams, but now she’s captured my soul. Taking the challenges I present to her and surprising me with a few of her own, she’s worthy of being a clan leader. We’ve only begun the journey of what is meant to be…
14
Chapter 1
Carly
Hands that dwarf mine wrap around my fingers, and warmth spreads through me. Any doubt I had about leaving my successful tattoo-artist career in California to drive to Maine is wiped from my mind. The man I’ve been dreaming about for weeks is even more compelling in real life.
It was only a week ago I gave myself the paw-print tattoo based on visions in the dreams that brought me here. While the pull to come was strong, my belief I’m here for a reason is now solid. The man’s voice seems to travel through my body and caress me along the way as he says, "Brady Le Roux."
The desire to press into his chest and breathe him in is strong, but I refrain and ask, "French?"
He nods. "Yes, French Canadian, actually." Brady’s eyes are a deep mossy green, and firelight dances in them. The tattoo on my wrist is pulsing with desire as the memory of what Brady has done to me in my visions flows through my veins. He still hasn't let go of my hand and is only distracted when his sister, Annie, clears her throat.
He steps back and reluctantly drops my hand. Sierra steps forward with hers out. "Sierra Steele." My best friend’s name always makes me think of a movie star, and she usually captures the attention of any guy we meet. But not this time. Brady gives her a quick glance without shaking her hand and returns his attention to me.
His arm is the size of my thigh, and he takes my arm to walk us over to the island in the Le Roux kitchen. I’m not sure if the others follow. I'm so taken with Brady that all I can process is the flexing of the muscles beneath the flannel of his sleeve. He pulls a tall bar chair out for me and tucks me in when I sit. The counter is set higher than traditional ones, and I set my hands on the cold granite to pull myself back to reality. That's when I realize the whole kitchen is designed for taller people. Nice.
Poor Sierra has to fend for herself. She sits beside me and whispers in my ear, "Oh my God." I just grin because words fail me.
Annie walks toward a stainless steel refrigerator and asks, "Can I get anyone some wine? Or a soft drink?"