Page 7 of Courted By the Grumpy Dragon (Monsters of Saltford Bay #2)

Chapter Five

Nina

They say curiosity killed the cat. I wonder if this applies to librarians as well.

Because right now, curiosity is eating me from the inside-out as I watch a certain golden-scaled dragon across the field of Maple Hollow farm where the yearly Halloween attractions are set, including hayrides, pumpkin carvings, apple bobbing, and of course, our beloved corn maze.

A corn maze I’m currently manning, selling tickets to fundraise for the library.

I'm not a gambling woman, but if I were, I'd bet my entire meager savings that Kraxon Ashbane would rather face a firing squad than wear a glow stick necklace at a small-town harvest festival.

Yet here I stand, twirling one between my fingers while watching him from across the crowded fairground, looking like he'd prefer to walk on hot coals than haggle with Bernice Bateman over a lavender essential oil vial.

Well, of course he would walk over hot coals. He's a dragon. They are immune to fire. At least that's the rumor. Dragons don't mix with a lot of Others or humans, so I don't know much about them.

"Two tickets for five dollars, or five tickets for ten," I tell a young gnome couple approaching my booth at the entrance to the corn maze. "All proceeds go to the Saltford Bay Library children's programs."

They hand over a ten-dollar bill, and I pass them their tickets with my brightest smile. The young gnome woman gives me a wide grin, her pretty face scrunching her pointy nose in an adorable way as she thanks me.

"Good luck! Remember, the blue tokens are worth double points at the raffle!"

As they disappear into the maze entrance, I return to my surveillance.

And yes. I know how creepy that sounds. Sue me.

Kraxon stands rigidly beside Bernice Bateman's herbal remedy booth, hands clasped behind his back, wings folded tightly against his broad shoulders.

He looks absolutely miserable in his perfectly tailored wool coat and pressed slacks, a formal island in a sea of flannel shirts, denim jackets and warm smiles.

His long hair falls perfectly on his shoulder, shiny and sleek, while the horns on his head gleam in the low light.

Even miserable looking, he looks good enough to eat.

The string lights crisscrossing overhead catch on his golden scales, making him impossible to miss despite his obvious desire to blend into the shadows.

Why is he even here? He doesn't seem to be enjoying the festivities at all.

I shouldn't find his discomfort so fascinating. Or so attractive.

But I do.

Ever since that moment in the archive room, when his thumb brushed away my tear and that intoxicating cinnamon scent filled the space between us, I've been unable to stop thinking about him.

About the heat of his skin against mine.

About the way his golden eyes had darkened as they flickered to my lips.

About what might have happened if he hadn't pulled away.

"You're staring," Theo says, appearing beside me with a cardboard tray of apple cider donuts. He follows my gaze to the impossible-to-miss dragon, then smirks at me. "Oh, you’re not just staring, you’re stalking. How season-appropriate of you. Very creepy, very demure."

I accept a donut with as much dignity as I can muster. It's not much.

"I'm observing. It's different."

"Uh-huh." He follows my gaze to where Kraxon now stands at the booth set up by Maizie Kent, our resident woodland faerie, examining a display of honey jars with excessive concentration.

"You know, when I said you should get back out there after Ben, I was thinking more along the lines of that nice human guy who runs the bookstore in Oakridge, not the scary dragon lawyer who might shut down our library. "

"He's not going to shut down the library," I insist, though the knot in my stomach tightens at the reminder of what's at stake. "And he's not scary."

Theo raises an eyebrow.

"Tell that to Bram. Kid still talks about how the dragon made the thunder come alive during story hour."

I take a bite of donut to avoid responding, the cinnamon sugar sweet on my tongue. It's nothing like the spicy warmth of Kraxon's scent, but it triggers the memory all the same. My belly squeezes with a now familiar pang of longing.

This is getting ridiculous.

"I'm going to go talk to him," I decide, brushing sugar from my hands.

"Why?" Theo asks, genuinely puzzled.

Good question. Because I can't stop thinking about him? Because I want to understand the man Harold trusted? Because my body responds to his presence in ways that both terrify and exhilarate me?

"Library fundraiser," I say instead. "Every ticket helps."

"Your funeral." Theo shrugs. "Just remember, he's the one who has to verify that new will. Don't get too friendly with the enemy."

"He's not the enemy." The words come out more defensive than I intend. "He's doing his job."

"If you say so." Theo gestures to the growing line at our booth. "I'll cover this. Go recruit Dragon Suit-Daddy for the cause. "

I hand him the roll of tickets and straighten my sweater, a chunky knit in harvest orange over jeans and boots.

My hair is loose tonight, partly because it's too windy for any style to hold, and partly because.

..well, no reason, really. Definitely not because I'm hoping to look nice for anyone in particular.

Liar , a little voice at the back of my mind whispers.

I make my way through the festival crowd, weaving between families admiring pumpkin displays and teenagers clustered around the ring toss.

The scent of apple cider and kettle corn fills the air, mingling with hay and the earthy smell of October.

Above it all, the massive corn maze looms, its eight-foot stalks creating a shadowy labyrinth in the growing twilight.

Kraxon doesn't notice my approach. He's too busy studying a jar of lavender honey like someone trying to decipher ancient runes. He's that intense.

"Fancy seeing Saltford Bay's most reclusive dragon lawyer at a corn maze festival," I say, stepping into his line of sight. "Lost your briefcase in there?"

He startles, golden eyes widening as they lock onto mine. For a split second, that cinnamon scent spikes in the air between us before vanishing just as quickly.

"Ms. Farrington." His voice is controlled, formal. "Good evening."

"Nina," I remind him, ignoring the little thrill that runs through me when his gaze sweeps briefly over my body. "We established that."

He sets the honey jar down with careful precision. "Nina, then."

"So what brings you to our humble harvest festival? Somehow, I can't picture you bobbing for apples or riding the hay wagon. "

His wings twitch slightly, a movement I'm beginning to recognize as discomfort. "My brother and his wife insisted I join them for what they termed a 'normal social outing.' They own Windfall Manor."

This is new information. Windfall Manor is the largest and most impressive estate in the entire county. It shouldn’t surprise me that it’s owned by dragons. They are well-known to hoard treasure, after all.

"You're staying with family?"

"In the carriage house, yes. Temporarily." He glances around the crowded fairground. "I lost them approximately forty minutes ago when I declined to participate in the pie-tasting contest."

The image of Kraxon Ashbane, with his perfect posture and immaculate clothing, judging pumpkin pies makes me smile. "Not a fan of competitive eating?"

"Not a fan of public spectacle," he corrects, but there's the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes.

I step closer without meaning to.

"Well, since you're at loose ends, I have the perfect activity for you."

Wariness immediately replaces the momentary lightness in his expression.

"What activity?"

"The library's fundraiser." I gesture toward the corn maze entrance. "Participants navigate the corn maze collecting colored tokens. Different colors correspond to different prize tiers. All proceeds benefit the children’s programs."

"I see." He reaches into his inner coat pocket. "I'd be happy to make a donation directly."

I shake my head as he produces a sleek leather wallet.

"That's not how it works. You have to at least try the maze properly. "

"I fail to see why walking through corn stalks in the dark is a prerequisite for supporting literacy."

"It's called fun, Kraxon. People have it sometimes. Even dragons."

He slides his wallet back into his pocket.

"I appreciate the offer, but I should locate my brother and his wife."

"The big dragon's going in the maze with Miss Nina!"

We both turn to find a small troll child pointing at us, his excited voice carrying to several nearby festival-goers, who smile approvingly in our direction. Kraxon freezes, his wings pressing even tighter against his back.

"Looks like public opinion has spoken," I say, trying not to grin too widely at his trapped expression. I reach into my pocket and produce a bright green glow necklace. "For visibility. Safety first!"

The look of pure horror on his face as he stares at the neon accessory makes me laugh out loud. He takes it gingerly between two fingers, as if it might bite him.

"It won't clash with your scales," I promise. "Green and gold is a classic combination."

His nostrils flare slightly. "I'm not concerned about the aesthetics."

"Just put it on. I promise your reputation as a serious lawyer will survive one night of fun."

After a moment's hesitation, he slips the glow necklace over his head, where it settles against the crisp collar of his expensive looking wool coat. The effect is so incongruous that I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling again.

"Satisfied?" he asks dryly.

"Ecstatic." I lead him toward the maze entrance, acutely aware of his presence just behind me. "Five dollars for two tickets. "

He hands over a bill without comment, and I tear off two tickets from the roll Theo hands me. Our fingers brush during the exchange, and even that fleeting contact sends a jolt of heat through my body.