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“How’d you guess?” Ranger served my mate a piece of pie, and we all tucked into the dessert. “And he hates mess.”
“Does that include crumbs in the bed?” Tony side-eyed me.
“Yes,” everyone yelled.
Tony’s spoon clattered to the floor. I should have caught it, but I was too busy shoving in tender, spicy apples, pastry, and ice cream. Dad handed my mate another spoon, but his outstretched hand froze as he studied Tony.
Everyone stopped eating, and my head snapped toward my mate. His cheeks, normally pink and perky that I kissed every chance I got, were ashen.
My wolf who’d been sleeping demanded I take him to the doctor.
“Hey.” I put my head close to my mate. “Something wrong?”
“I need fresh air.” He pushed the chair back, and it scraped over the wooden floor. “Sorry.” He flung himself out the closest door, with me at his heels. He gulped huge mouthfuls of air and a little color returned to his cheeks. While he rested his head on my chest, I rubbed circles over his back.
“Let’s go home and I’ll put you straight to bed.”
“Home,” he mumbled, his mouth on my sweater. “Where is that?”
We’d been living in limbo the last weeks while he got back into the routine of classes, assignments, and study. He’d fall into bed late, and we’d make love long into the night, leaving him little time to sleep.
Being a shifter, I needed less sleep than a human. My driver would take him to his place or campus the next morning. We’d compromised on a bodyguard who stayed outside his classrooms and kept a short distance from him as he made his way around college.
But every day he’d fire questions at me about the business.
“Do you traffic drugs?”
“No. I would never. My grandfather and father refused to touch the stuff.”
“Human trafficking or arms trafficking?”
“No.”
We made humans’ lives easier by fixing their problems and making them go away, and we washed the money through our casinos and other businesses.
“Home is where you are.” I kissed the top of his head.
“That’s what you always say.” He looked up at me. “Maybe I should start saying that too.”
“Don’t.” I pulled away but draped my arms around his shoulders. “Not if you don’t mean it.”
“I do. But we have to iron out some rules.”
“Like what? You have to put dirty clothes in the hamper?” I pulled him close again, picturing him in the house, our home. But I understood the meaning behind his words.
“No, your business. I’m still fuzzy on it.”
From the corner of my eye, I noted four heads poking around the doorway. Dad was waving frantically and miming something about his belly, or perhaps it was a basketball. Hunter was sticking a finger down his throat, and Ranger was rocking back and forth. Was he holding a doll or a cat?
“My family’s trying to tell me something.”
“We should go inside. They’ll think I’m rude,” he sighed.
We wandered arm and arm toward the house.
“What are you all staring at? Never seen a mated couple making plans for the future?”
“Do those plans include a baby?” Uncle Arnie asked.
