Dray sighed happily and gave Rick a quick hug.
“Knock ’em dead!” Rick waved goodbye and traipsed off as Tripp peered from around a doorframe with wide eyes.
“How did he—”
“I texted him. I needed some nice clothes.” Dray let the towel fall, ran a hand through his hair, and went to change.
“Good thinking.” Tripp cleared his throat and got ready, himself.
Dray swapped out a few of his piercings to less noticeable ones, tossed on a dark dress shirt and a coat that, while baggy, complemented his frame and hid the swell of his belly. “At least until we get there, you know?”
Tripp nodded with a silly smile plastered to his face and they left.
***
Walking into the country club felt…alien. Blond hair, polos, cardigans, socks with patterns on them. It all seemed so very plastic. And the looks Dray expected? He caught a few sidelong glances, but nothing that lingered. Of all the country clubs in town, Gilded Scales was not the one he imagined, almost exclusively shifter. And of course, celebrities did often attend, and Dray slid under the radar with ease.
The front desk attendant gave them a smile and so did most of the employees, save for a few younger ones who, likely, didn’t recognize Tripp.
“Tripp Wells, it has been a minute!” An older beta came running around, her hair in a tight bun as she gave him a squeeze of a hug. “Who’s this? An investor in your company? Your father’s been bragging nonstop.”
Tripp puffed up a little at the remark. His father only so rarely gave him praise to his face and he sought it so often. “I’m sure he has, but no, this is my—” Tripp glanced over and pulled Dray into his side. “Mate.”
The woman lit up and dove in for an uninvited hug and likely felt what Dray’s coat hid, giving him a glance up and down before giving Tripp a lingering stare.
Tripp’s cheeks flushed. “Mom…doesn’t know yet. We’re going to tell her.”
“Hmmmmmm.” The judgmental tone in the woman’s throat made Tripp shrink.
Dray leaned into Tripp’s side and waved her off with a soft chuckle. “The fates are a little crazy at times, aren’t they?”
“Fates?” She glanced from Dray to Tripp again, still humming with judgment.
“Well, welcome to the family—” She hesitated.
“Dray, Nancy. Nancy, Dray.” Tripp introduced the two, his voice cracking with nerves.
She made anI’m watching you gestureat Tripp. “I’ll make sure the kitchen staff doesn’t offer him a drink and embarrass him.”
“Thanks, Nancy.” Tripp laughed nervously and earned a swat to his arm before he scurried off with Dray.
“That seemed awful cozy.” Dray huffed as Tripp apologized.
“She’s like an aunt to me. I used to run wild here when I was a kid.” Tripp’s whisper had Dray imagining a little rattlesnakeslithering around corners and sneaking into places he shouldn’t have been.Not much has changed. He slithered right on into me.
As they rounded a corner and strode through a large dining area, they went into a private, more exclusive dining room where a stout man with a fierce gaze sat stiffly in his seat with anticipation written all over a guilty face.
“Dad, Mom,” Tripp said by way of greeting as he brought Dray in with a nervous smile. “I’ve got someone I’d really like you to meet.”
He pushed Dray forward and his father, Ian, glanced Dray up and down in a slow, calculating sweep before giving an imperceptible nod. His mother, however, blinked at him with wide eyes and an uneasy gaze. “Who is this, dear?”
“It’s great to finally meet you two. I’m Dray Lackson.” Dray offered a hand for a light shake for Tripp’s mom, Joyce if he remembered correctly. She had Tripp’s hair, that “not brown or blonde or silver” shifting pretty mixture. Ian, his father, gave Dray a firm shake that he reciprocated, years of grip on a tattoo gun giving him a firm shake that boomers tended to like.
Tripp rested his hands on Dray’s shoulders and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Dray is my mate.”
Joyce’s eyes widened, her drink pausing in her hand mid-lift. “What?”
“Tripp and I met after his breakup a—about six months ago, little less… And we’ve been coming to terms with it.” Dray cleared his throat. “But it’s lovely to meet you, Joyce, Ian.”
