Brady speaks in my head. “Let's go get ice cream. Let me know when you're here, and I'll run out.”
I grin, thinking about our night. No wonder I'm exhausted; my husband is insatiable. Water splashes up from a puddle when I pull into the lot in front of Brady's office, and I tell him I'm here.
The rain becomes heavy, and I scoot over to the passenger side as I watch him jog to the car. He has a thing about being the driver, and I let him have his alpha way. Brady gets in quickly, and the door slams. A drop of water runs down his face, and his blue button-down shirt is dark with moisture on his shoulders. I may be tired, but my body sings with desire as it recognizes his scent, and I long to lick the water off his face and continue my way down.
He pulls me against his damp chest, and his lips scorch as he kisses me. I guess he wouldn't mind a little skin on skin, either. I break away. “Wow, I should come take you away from work more often.”
The seat motor whines as he moves the seat back to fit him for driving. “You probably should.” He winks at me. “I don't think I've taken you to the Milk Shed yet, have I?”
“No, you haven't.” I notice that we bounce less along the rutted dirt road than I used to in my old Subaru.
“You're in for a treat. Their small is like everyone else's large.” He throws me a sideways glance, and I can't help but grin. I'm married to a man that enjoys food as much as I do and thinks my extra weight is sexy. I'm a lucky girl.
When we get there, I insist he take my umbrella to get ice cream from the take-out window. He runs to a small, natural wood–shingled building. The trim is bright pink, and the signs that list the ice cream flavors are hand painted in a variety of colors. Even though the rain is heavy, we aren't the only ones getting a frozen treat. New Englanders take their ice cream seriously.
Brady returns with peppermint stick for me and mint chocolate chip for himself. I lick my towering pink ice cream cone, and the homemade goodness coats my tongue. Brady asks, “So what was it you needed to tell me?”
He's meticulously licking around the section where the ice cream meets the cone to prevent it from dripping. I say, “I know why I have alpha abilities. Marion Robichaux is my mother.”
Brady's tongue stops, and his eyes widen. “What?”
“She spoke in my head at the wedding, but with everything that happened, I forgot to deal with it. I contacted her to find out why, and we had lunch today.”
“You should have told me before you met with her.” He growls as he shakes his head.
I growl back. “Let’s not go there, teddy.”
He glares at the nickname but remains calm. I’m amazed at how well he’s doing with my alpha status and quickly move on. “Apparently my mother and father fell in love in high school. She got pregnant and left to marry my dad and have me. When her father died, she had to return to her clan. She’s an alpha.”
He asks, “Why weren’t you raised a Robichaux?” Green liquid is dripping down the edge of Brady's cone, and when it hits his hand, he looks at it for a moment before he grabs a napkin to wipe it away.
“She thought we would be in danger if anyone knew about us.”
He nods. “You would have been. Halves and humans aren’t welcome in clans.” He growls and adds, “Especially the Robichaux.”
I wonder what Brady has against them, and he asks, “So you're the alpha of the Robichaux clan and will take over when Marion dies?”
I nod. “She assures me she isn't dying soon, so I don't have any conflict with also being the Le Roux prima…yet.”
Brady's face scrunches in concentration. “You know, we've been trying to become allies with the Robichaux for a while now. But they think of us as the working class. That clan is old money, and we're not good enough for them.”
I swallow peppermint flavor. “Marion seemed pretty open to having a relationship with me and being a grandmother. Do you think I might be the link that can bring the clans together?”
“I don't know, but it's something to think about.” He returns to licking his ice cream around the edge of the cone.
“I wonder who Sierra, Lily, and Taylor are related to. I don't know anything about Lily and Taylor's parents, but I do know that Sierra didn't grow up without a dad.”
Brady shrugs. “Someone in any of the three black bear clans.” He says, “We'll have to tell Donna. She's going to like this news.”
“I've already planned it. She's coming to dinner tonight so I can prepare her before our lunch with Marion and Patricia the day after tomorrow.” I'm down to my cone, and it crunches when I bite the edge.
Brady's mouth gets tight, and a growl rumbles. I watch his chest puff out as he takes a deep breath and, in a controlled voice, says, “Why is it I'm the last to know about a meeting of the prima?”
“Because I don't answer to you. Donna and I are trying to figure out what to do about Victor's attempt to mate rape Sierra.”