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Stephan released him with a chuckle, then Dylan grabbed him around the middle in a hard hug. Stephan exhaled a surprised breath and squeezed him back. “Everything all right?”

“Uh-huh.” Dylan’s voice was muffled into Stephan’s chest. “My dragon likes it.”

“Mine does, too,” Stephan said softly. “But you don’t want to keep your mom waiting, huh? Gotta get those treats.”

“Okay, fine.” Dylan stepped away, then bounced over to the car, full of renewed energy. “Come on, Mom, I want ice cream.”

“He’s worse than Zoey,” I said with a fond smile. “I’ll see you later today?”

Stephan nodded. “Counting down the minutes.”

It took a little more effort than I was willing to admit to myself to step away from him and get into the car, my heart thudding hard with every step.

As we drove, Dylan looked out the window. “Why was Dad at the clubhouse this morning?”

Only then did I realize I hadn’t even asked. Being so close to Stephan had distracted me. “Clan stuff, I guess,” I said. “Being the alpha is a lot of work.”

“He has to have a jobanddo work for the clan? Ew!”

I laughed. “Well, you’re an alpha too. You might have to do that one day, too.”

“Maybe if it was for myclan,” Dylan grumbled. “But having to do thatanda job is a lot.”

“You’re telling me.” As I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, a dark, vintage car pulled up and parked nearby. That must’ve been Striker. But true to what Stephan had said, Striker remained in the car as we got out and went into the store.

Part of me thought it was ridiculous that Stephan had given us a security detail, but a larger part, and a part that was getting bigger and louder every day, was grateful that he was so meticulous about our safety.

Dylan grabbed a cart.

“All right, kiddo, we’re doing steaks tonight. Vegetable requests?”

“None!”

“Wrong answer.”

“Ugh! Mashed potatoes?”

“Something green too, please.”

Dylan blew a raspberry. “Those good roasted brussels sprouts?”

“The honey-glazed ones? Good idea.”

“Can I go pick out some treats for Zoey? And some ice cream for dessert?”

“Sure, but onlyoneof each.”

“Okay.” Dylan darted off into the aisles. Thankfully, the grocery store was fairly quiet. Mid-morning wasn’t the most popular time to shop, and tourists didn’t frequent this store. I picked out some crisp vegetables and good-looking steaksfor dinner. Maybe a bottle of wine would be a nice addition, too. Stephan had a few at the house, but his wine taste was admittedly not the best. If there was one thing I’d learned from my mother, it was how to pick out a good bottle of wine.

I wheeled the cart toward the wine section. Maybe a nice Malbec.

“Well, look who it is.”

Even after a decade, I recognized that nasally, catty voice. Blakely stood by the beer, six-pack in hand. She still wore her red hair in that short pixie, and she was still tall and lean, but there were new wrinkles on her forehead and the corners of her eyes, and her teeth weren’t looking so hot, either. I wasn’t surprised to find her in the booze section. She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.”

“At the grocery store?”

“After what you did to me? Yes. This ismytown. Ilivehere. I don’t just show up and cause trouble.”