Page 117 of Eight Count Heat
"You know exactly what I mean. Family background. Education. Designation."
There it is. The checklist that's ruled my entire life. Family money: check. Elite education: check. Alpha or suitable Beta: well, that's where things get complicated.
"She's a student at Sable Ridge," I say carefully. "Exceptional academic record. Strong family background."
All true, technically.
"What's her name?"
"Reese." I don't offer her last name. Let him work for it if he's that interested.
Another pause. "Bring her tonight. Seven sharp. And Gray? Make sure she understands what kind of family she's meeting."
The line goes dead. I stare at my phone, wondering what the hell I just committed myself to. And what kind of situation I'm about to drag Reese into without her having any idea what she's agreeing to.
"Sounded fun," Eli observes dryly. He's been listening shamelessly, because privacy is apparently a foreign concept on this team.
"About as fun as a root canal." I stand, grabbing my bag from the overhead compartment. "I need to find Reese."
"This should be interesting." Eli follows me off the bus. "You planning to give her any context before you drag her into the lion's den?"
"Some."
"How much is some?"
I consider this as we walk toward the athletic complex. How do I explain three generations of Lockwood expectations? The weight of legacy money and social positioning? The fact that my father sees marriage as a business merger rather than a personal choice?
"Enough," I say finally.
Eli snorts. "You're fucked."
"Probably."
I find Reese in the equipment room, methodically coiling steering cables. She's changed out of her travel clothes into athletic shorts and a tank top, preparing to help with boat maintenance despite the fact that she just spent three hours managing a bus full of Alphas while fighting her own biology.
The sight of her, competent and focused even while dealing with her heat, makes my chest tight.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" I ask.
She glances up, those blue-green eyes sharp with alertness. "Shouldn't you be wherever team captains go to brood about race performance?"
"Funny." I close the door behind me to keep any nosy teammates out of the conversation. "I need to ask you something."
Her hands still on the cables. "That sounds ominous."
"Are you free tonight?"
"That depends. Free for what?"
I lean against the doorframe, trying to figure out how to frame this without sounding completely insane. "Family dinner. My parents' house. Very formal, very traditional, very..." I search for the right word. "Tedious."
"Why would you want me there for that?"
Fair question. Because I can't stand the thought of another evening watching Katherine Kincaid perform her perfect Alpha daughter act. Because the idea of you meeting my parents terrifies and excites me in equal measure. Because I'm pretty sure you're the only person who could handle them without either being intimidated or kissing their asses.
"Mutually beneficial arrangement," I say instead. "You need a distraction from your heat. I need a buffer against family matchmaking attempts."
She raises an eyebrow. "Matchmaking?"
