“And could you please behave?” The wheedling tone in Dray’s voice made Tripp’s alpha instincts to dote on him well up. So, he continued his checking of the pantry and grumbled in frustration before spying a bottle shoved behind some of the broths that Dray had gone through a phase with. Thank the gods. He shoved it in the fridge and added a note to his phone to buy more.
“Fuck, no. I’ll behave at the wedding, but here? Nah. Alpha needs to know what he’s getting his ass into.” Lowe huffed, and Tripp poured a glass of apple juice and added some ice cubes to cool it down. When he returned, Dray stared at him as if he hung the moon.
“Mmfuck, you’re the best,” Dray said, reaching out for the glass for a long chug—the family resemblance was uncanny.
Lowe watched them with a sidelong gaze, no more snark in his voice as he spoke. “So, how did you two meet, really?”
Tripp’s face burned.
“He got a tattoo from me,” Dray said, his voice shaking the tiniest bit.
“Liar.” Lowe put his feet flat on the floor and sat up, fingers folded. “If I know you, it was a one-night stand gone bad. That’s the only reason you’d keep it from me so long. You know I’d tease the shit out of you.”
Tripp said exactly nothing. His mouth was zipped. Lungs gripped. Mind tripped. He was gone, brain checked out.
“Yeah, the alpha over there says it all. Poor schmuck.” Lowe kicked his legs as he laughed. “Ahh, an innocent. Okay, you have Papa’s approval.”
“So, you did get a hotel room, right?” Dray grinned hopefully.
“Of course, the fuck, not.” Lowe dug in his pocket and handed over a clip of money to Dray. “I’m going to stay a few days with my baby while I can.”
Dray counted it. “It’s all here. I paid for your plane ticket.”
“Yeah? I can pay for a ticket to my baby’s wedding. Besides, I drove up. I packed all my shit—”
“You’re not moving in with me!” Dray sat up straight.
“And listen to you two have all the sex I’m not having?” Lowe scoffed. “No, I got a job at one of the escort clubs in town.”
“You’re sleeping with rich old men for money?” Dray stared him down.
“No!” Lowe huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s an escort service for old rich women.”
“Dad!” Dray’s voice reached a pitch that made Tripp flinch.
“Oh, relax. I just go keep them company a bit, maybe take them out, let them pinch me a little, and that’s it. Sometimes I’ll have to clean. Sex isn’t even on the menu. I just go to the country club or nice restaurant or some shit and let them pretend they’re fucking me.” Lowe messed with his phone for a moment and snorted. “After a lifetime of being disappointed by straight men, I’m a breath of fresh air. Emotional prostitution.”
Tripp nodded sagely. “An honorable profession.”
“I think so, at least. He gets it.” Lowe gestured at Tripp. “I like him.”
“You would.” Dray crossed his arms.
“Welp! I’m going to go take an unnecessarily long shower, get ready, and you’re going to take me out somewhere expensive. I’m thinking Olive Garden.” Lowe crossed his legs. “By the by, Tripp Wells, right?”
Tripp nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Your parents own Gilded Scales?” Lowe raised an eyebrow.
“His dad isn’t single.” Dray stuck his tongue out.
“Ew. He’s a beta. No. Fucking eight minutes of sweaty missionary and a thank-you after?” Lowe stared at his phone as his thumbs rolled. “Also, don’t shit where you eat. Don’t fuck your coworkers, your friends’ exes, coworkers’ exes, or relatives of your friends. Or friends of your relatives. Also, never anyone involved with someone.”
Tripp desperately wished he didn’t hear that.
“No, I just want to talk to Ian Wells.” Lowe’s thumbs flew on his screen.
“Why?” Dray paled a little.
