Page 191 of Dream Girl
“Pretty much. You’re not from here?” she asked, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it from the chair.
“Came here to be pre-med at Rock Tech. Ended up being a cop.” I grinned. Spencer had attended there, too.
“Your parents were okay with that?” Hurt flashed in her eyes.
“Yeah, my parents were supportive–both of my career choice and me staying here.” Okay, one of my moms was a little sour about it at first, but she got over it.
“How many parents? Two? Four? Nine?”
“Nine?” I laughed. “Three dads, two moms. I also have six brothers–no sisters.”
“Wow, and I thought three was a lot.” She grinned.
“Oh, it is–most of them are alphas.” I rolled my eyes. “I have a shit-ton of aunties and cousins. My omega grandma is the matriarch. We all lived close. There were always people everywhere. One reason I don’t mind having Ri around is that I miss a houseful of chaotic teenagers.”
She laughed. “I hope you see them a lot. That sounds great.”
“It is, and I go back as much as I can. My momsloveEvan. Stuff him full of dumplings,” I laughed.
“Mmmm, that sounds delicious. Can we check out the market sometime?” Her gaze went beyond the restaurant’s little plant fence.
“Absolutely.” I’d bring her back when Brennan was with us.
Grace wascuteif tiny blonde girls were your thing. Usually, big dudes were my thing. Caroline didn’t do it for me, which was one of the many conflicts we’d had when she’d lived with us. But after seeing Grace’s tight little ass shake in class…
Yeah, I could be convinced.
An older server came over. She was one of the owner’s mates.
“What are you drinking?” she asked in Mandarin, giving Grace a once-over.
“Beer, please,” Grace replied in Mandarin.
I stared at her. So did the server.
“Sorry, my accent is bad,” she continued in Mandarin, head ducking.
“I understand you fine, what kind?” she replied.
“Whatever you have is fine,” Grace told her.
I ordered beer for the both of us. “Did you grow up on the West Coast, too? Because the guys all learned French and Spanish in school out here.”
She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure my doctoral cohort was mostly from China. I probably speak a weird dialect. Um, I think I learned Spanish in school, but I’m bad at it. Do you learn Chinese at school there?”
“Yeah, Mandarin or Russian, and Spanish, but we speak Mandarin at home. Some schools around where I grew up also taught indigenous languages.” I eyed her. “You’re remembering more? That’s great.”
Where exactly did she grow up again? Maybe she was homeschooled?
Grace shrugged. “I remember a lot more. But not anything important, like how I ended up on the park bench or a lot about my work. My love of tipsy karaoke isn’t vital.”
I leaned in as the server brought our beers. “I love karaoke. Do you need to reach out to your brothers, let them know you’re okay?”
“We haven’t talked in years. I don't think they care.” Grace squinted at the menu, and we ordered.
How sad. Had they seen her on the news? Her hitting the shooter with a chair had gone viral. Four siblings, six cousins, all of my parents, and nine aunties, had realized that was my pack and texted me, worried. Not that you got a really clear view of her face. But still…
“You did really well in class. Are you a dancer?” I asked.
