Page 52 of Horn in My Side

JASMINE

“Good job, Clawdia!” Jasmine tossed the hatchling a treat as she finished performing her newest trick—spinning around in a circle.

“You’re doing great.” Kneeling down, she rubbed the dragon’s chin affectionately.

Joy and devotion blanketed Jasmine like a warm coat and visions of more treats danced in her head.

Jasmine laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t have any more kibble, but let me see if I can scrounge up something for you, okay? Then we can work on the next trick.”

Clawdia trilled and nudged at her thigh, before an image of Mal popped into her head.

For a second, Jasmine didn’t know if it was Clawdia’s emotions that she sensed or her own. It took all her might not to burst into tears. She’d thought she’d run out of them by now, after two whole miserable weeks of crying.

Clawdia bumped her again, indicating she was waiting for an answer to her question:

Where’s Mal?

“I don’t know, Clawdia. I’m sorry.”

And that was the truth. She hadn’t seen him at all since that day they’d broken up over two weeks ago.

He didn’t show up at the shop, nor did she see him leave or enter his house.

Rent had been due the other day and when she’d tiptoed over to slip the check under his door, there was no sound coming from the other side.

Had it not been for the lights inside the house occasionally turning on and off, she would have thought he’d vanished into thin air. Nope, just avoiding her.

It was better this way, she told herself for the thousandth time. If she did see him, she might do something rash.

Like confess her love for him and ask him to stay.

“I made the right decision,” she said, as if hearing it from her own lips made it hurt any less.

The historical center job had been his dream for so long.

He’d lost his father so young. Mal had never got the chance to work alongside him or show him all his accomplishments.

Over the last few months, she’d seen more of his amazing work, and though he remained modest about it, Mal’s talent and capabilities seemingly had no limits.

Why he’d even doubted that he would get that job, she didn’t know.

And why she let herself fall for him when he was going to leave was an even bigger mystery.

A demanding warble and sudden flashes of food, ball, treats, and toys jolted her out of her thoughts. The images cycled over and over again in a frenzied pace. “What is it?” She narrowed her eyes at Clawdia. “Do you want all those things?”

The hatchling skittered away to her pen. Moments later, she came out, dragging her favorite blanket, then set it down by Jasmine before scooting off once more. When she returned, she was carrying her goblin stuffie, and dropped it on top of the blanket.

“Clawdia, are you bringing me all your favorite things because I’m sad?”

Clawdia responded by sitting down on her hind legs, eyes staring up at her adoringly.

“Oh baby . . .” Picking her up, she cuddled the dragon to her. “Thank you, Clawdia.” Warmth flowed into her chest, temporarily filling the empty spaces between the pieces of her broken heart. Still, moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes.

Oh Mother Goddess, would the tears never stop?

After another long drawn-out breath, she put Clawdia down. “Let me get you those treats.”

Jasmine rooted around in the fridge, trying to find the apples she swore she had stashed in there last week.

They weren’t on the main shelf, so she pulled the crisper open.

To her surprise, the usually empty drawer had something heavy in it.

Peering in, she saw a dark, olive-tinted bottle with a distinctive shield-shaped silver label.

What was this doing here?

Dislodging it from the drawer, she held it up and saw a card attached to the neck with a string. She opened it and read the note:

Congratulations, ashak’a. You deserve this.

Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Love,

Mal

Her heart nearly dislodged from her chest. Mal had bought this. He’d remembered his promise, that he would buy her champagne once the loan went through.

But I hadn’t even submitted the paperwork until yesterday.

When did he buy this?

Ding ding dong!

“We have customers,” she told Clawdia. Now that Jasmine had to run the shop by herself, she locked the door whenever she went to check on Clawdia. Her gaze landed back on the bottle and the note attached to it, her mind still reeling about the meaning of it.

Ding ding dong!

“Argh!” Shoving the bottle back in the drawer, Jasmine shut the fridge and turned to Clawdia. “All right, back in the pen for now.”

The obnoxious doorbell rang out twice more before Jasmine reached the door. “Good morning! Welcome to Fantastic Tails and Magical Scales,” she greeted. “How can I help you today?”

The man on the other side nodded a greeting at her. “Are you Jasmine Gonzalez? The manager?”

“Yes.” She eyed him curiously. A little over six feet tall, the burly older man had a thick head of silver hair, a bushy mustache and matching eyebrows.

The skin on his arms was a criss-cross of healed burn scars and his dark green eyes reminded Jasmine of a hawk that never blinked. “And who are you?”

“Harry Housen,” he said. “I’m the owner of Housen Hatchery.”

Her heart pounded a rhythm that rushed to her ears.

This man had come here to take Clawdia away.

Well, he would have to pry her from my cold, dead hands.

“My—our l-lawyer says I d-don’t have to talk to you.” She reached for the door with shaking hands. “Whatever you need to say, you can do it in writing. Now please leave.”

Housen jammed his hand against the door. “Please don’t, Ms. Gonzalez. I’ve been trying to call you for days. Can you give me five minutes?”

“I know what you want to say. No, you can’t have Claw—the egg back.” She tried to be vague, in case there was a misunderstanding.

“What? You think I’m trying to take the dragon hatchling?”

Okay, so he definitely knew that she had received a dragon egg.

“Isn’t that why you’ve been calling me?” She crossed her arms. “Because you want to take Clawdia? Or sue me for the cost of the eggs?”

“Yes. I mean no.” Bushy eyebrows twitched and drew together. “Not quite. It depends.” His shoulders relaxed. “Ms. Gonzalez, please give me a moment to explain. There’s no need to involve lawyers.”

The smart thing to do would be to shut the door in his face. If he insisted on staying, she could always call the police. But then again, she really was curious what he meant when he said “it depends.” “All right. Tell me why you’re here.”

“Yes, it’s about the dragon egg we sent to you. My shipping manager discovered the discrepancy when we did our inventory. We looked everywhere, thinking the egg might have been misplaced or had hatched and run off. Perils of the business, I’m afraid,” he said with a little chuckle.

“How did I end up with the egg?”

“After checking the warehouse cameras, we realized what had happened—a simple mix-up. One of the new employees put the dragon egg in your package by mistake. Also, your regular customer-service rep, James, went on vacation after he sold you that discounted carcinos egg, so he never followed up. Never even occurred to him that you might have gotten the wrong product, since you never called to complain.”

“So, it was your company’s fault.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

She placed a hand on her hip. “Which means I can keep her.”

“As per consumer laws, yes. We wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if we tried to sue you back for the hatchling or the cost of the egg.

And it would cost so much more time and money in legal fees if we tried.

” He raised an eyebrow. “We have this saying in the industry: the only thing more expensive than a dragon egg is a lawyer. In fact, you could sue us for sending you a dangerous animal.”

“Like you said, it wouldn’t be worth it.” But this meant Clawdia was hers—free and clear. That knot of worry she’d been carrying around in her chest this whole time disappeared. “Then what are you doing here? And why have you been calling me?”

Serious green eyes fixed on her. “Dragons are heavily regulated and for good reason, Ms. Gonzalez. We don’t sell them at a premium because they’re rare.

It’s because they need a lot of care and training.

We can’t just let any Joe off the street take a fire-breathing creature home.

It’s too dangerous. Every potential dragon owner goes through a rigorous background check and must attend mandatory pre-hatching training with us before we even consider selling to them. ”

“That’s actually smart.” Vrig would have approved.

Housen continued. “They know what they’re getting and we don’t sugarcoat it for them.

And we conduct regular checks on owners up to two years after hatching.

And if we find that they’ve been mishandling or mistreating the dragon or if the dragon poses a danger to others, then we’d have to get the Department of Magical Enforcement and the Bureau of Animal and Plant Health involved. ”

She winced. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“It’s not, believe me. You don’t want the feds coming after you.”

“So, what do we do now?”

Housen pursed his lips, his silvery mustache twitching. “Like I said, your shop legally owns—Clawdia, is it?—but if you want to keep her and for everyone’s safety, you’ll have to get the necessary licenses and insurance policies.”

“Of course,” she said. “The shop is fully insured.”

He glanced around at the rows of cages and pens. “And if you want to sell her, that’s a whole different ballgame, I’m afraid. I hope you like paperwork. There’s a reason it’s easier to sell them as eggs.”

“Actually, Mr. Housen, my boss gave her to me.”

“Gave her to you?” he echoed. “Just like that? He does know how much a dragon egg costs, right?”