Page 16 of Hot for the Dragon (Saltwater Grove #3)
16
ARCHER
A rcher crouched behind a brick wall. The crisp October air carried the scent of pumpkin spice from the nearby café, mixing with Daphne's floral perfume as she pressed close beside him. He tried to ignore how her proximity made his pulse quicken.
"There he is," Archer whispered, nodding toward Marcus Chen, a town planning official they'd been tailing for three days. "Right on schedule."
"Just like clockwork," Daphne agreed, her breath warming his ear. "Same bench, same time."
Marcus sat down and pulled out his phone, fingers flying across the screen. Archer's enhanced dragon vision allowed him to catch glimpses of the text messages.
"Defense meeting scheduled for 7PM at City Hall. Council bringing in reinforcements from coastal towns," Archer read aloud. "That information wasn't supposed to leave the war room."
"Look at who he's sending it to," Daphne pointed out. The contact name read 'C.K.'
"Carmen Kane," Archer growled. "Got you, you little snake."
Marcus stood up and started walking away. As he walked past their hiding spot, Daphne stood up and stumbled slightly. Archer caught her by the waist, steadying her against his chest. The sweet scent of her hair made his head swim.
"Sorry," she whispered, cheeks flushing pink.
"I've got you." His voice came out rougher than intended. He cleared his throat. "We should head to the police station with this information."
"Wait." Daphne's eyes sparkled with mischief. "One more thing first."
She waved her hand, and suddenly Marcus yelped as vines sprouted through the sidewalk cracks, wrapping around his ankles. He dropped his phone in surprise, and Archer swooped in silently to grab it.
"Nice trick," he said, unable to hold back a grin.
"I have my moments." Daphne smiled back, and Archer felt something warm unfurl in his chest. Working with her this past week had been... surprisingly enjoyable. More than enjoyable, if he was honest with himself.
They headed toward the police station, the fallen leaves swirling around their feet. Marcus's phone felt heavy in Archer's pocket - solid evidence of Carmen's network of spies in town.
Archer turned down Main Street, his long strides forcing Daphne to practically jog beside him. The confiscated phone burned in his pocket, reminding him of simpler times when he could have handled traitors his way - with fire and fury.
The police station loomed ahead, its brick facade as uninviting as the prospect of working with law enforcement. Archer's dragon instincts bristled at the thought of handing over control to others.
"We could just handle this ourselves," he muttered. "One quick flight to the cliffs, a little chat with Marcus..."
"By 'chat' you mean dangling him over the ocean until he talks?"
"It would be effective."
Daphne's laugh echoed off the buildings. "And completely against protocol. Besides, you agreed to play nice with the police."
"I agreed to keep you safe," he corrected, holding the station door open for her. "The police are just an unfortunate side effect."
The desk sergeant's eyes widened as Archer approached, recognition and fear battling across his features. Good. Fear meant respect, and respect meant efficiency.
"We need Detective Morris," Archer announced, not bothering with pleasantries. "Now."
"I'll go get him," the sergeant squeaked, practically running from his desk.
Daphne elbowed him in the ribs. "You could try being less intimidating."
"I could. But where's the fun in that?"
Detective Morris appeared, looking harried. Archer tossed him the phone and explained the situation in clipped sentences.
"We'll handle it from here," Morris assured them, pocketing the evidence.
"You better," Archer growled.
"What he means is thank you," Daphne interjected smoothly, steering Archer toward the exit. "We appreciate your help."
Outside, the autumn sunlight painted Daphne's skin gold. She smelled like roses and possibility, and Archer found himself wondering when exactly he'd started noticing such things.
"Come on, I'll walk you home." The words came out suddenly. Daphne's bright smile made him glad he'd offered.
"Such a gentleman," she teased, falling into step beside him.
"Don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain." He matched her shorter stride, watching how the sunlight played across her dark hair.
"Oh yes, the big bad dragon who terrifies small children and makes police officers nervous." Daphne's green eyes sparkled with mischief. "Speaking of which, that poor desk sergeant looked ready to faint."
"Good. Fear is efficient."
"You're impossible." She laughed, the sound warming something in his chest he thought had gone cold years ago. "So, how's that ship model coming along?"
"The schooner? Nearly done with the hull detail." Pride crept into his voice despite himself. "The tricky part is getting the rigging exactly right."
"I'd love to see it sometime." Daphne's genuine interest made him pause mid-step.
"Want to see it now?" The words tumbled out before he could second-guess them.
"Really?" Her whole face lit up. "I mean, yes, absolutely!"
"My car's just around the corner." He gestured toward where he'd parked his Corvette earlier. The sleek black vehicle sat like a predator among the more mundane town cars.
"Still can't believe you drive this beauty," Daphne said, running her hand along the hood. "A dragon with a sports car. Isn't that a bit redundant?"
"Flying's great, but sometimes you want to feel the road."
He opened the passenger door for her, catching another whiff of her rose perfume as she slipped past him. His dragon stirred, pleased by her proximity in his territory - even if that territory was just his car.
Archer gripped the wheel tighter as the Corvette purred down the winding coastal road toward his mansion. What had possessed him to invite her to his sanctuary? His workshop was private, sacred even. The one place where he could truly be himself without judgment or expectations.
Yet here he was, stealing glances at Daphne as she gazed out the window. The setting sun caught her profile, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the slight upturn of her lips.
"The sunset's gorgeous from up here," she said, breaking into his thoughts.
"Hmm." He forced his attention back to the road. Focus. They had a mission. Carmen to stop. A town to save. He didn't have time for... whatever this was, right?
"You know, for someone who invited me over, you're awfully quiet." Her teasing tone made his dragon stir with interest.
"Just thinking more about the ship model," he lied smoothly. "It's actually not quite ready for viewing."
"I'm sure it's perfect, Mr. Perfectionist."
"Nothing's perfect." But his traitorous eyes drifted to her again.
The road curved sharply, and Daphne slid slightly in her seat, her shoulder brushing his arm. The contact sent a jolt through. He downshifted perhaps more aggressively than necessary.
What was wrong with him? He was Archer Hawke, feared dragon shifter. He didn't get flustered over pretty witches with kind eyes and clever tongues.
"Everything okay?" Daphne asked. "You seem tense."
"Fine," he growled, then immediately regretted his harsh tone. "Just... not used to company."
"I noticed." She smiled, and damn if it didn't make his chest tight. "But you're doing great. Haven't growled at me once in the last ten minutes."
Despite himself, Archer felt his lips twitch. "Give it time."
The familiar path to his mansion stretched ahead, and with it came an unfamiliar sensation - anticipation. He actually wanted to show her his work, to see her reaction to the intricate details he'd carved into the schooner's hull.
He was definitely going soft. And somehow, watching Daphne's hair dance in the breeze from the open window, he couldn't bring himself to care.
Archer soon pushed open the French doors to his workshop. The last few rays of sunlight streamed in through the glass panes and danced across his collection of finished wood carvings. The familiar scent of cedar and oak shavings filled his nose, mixing with Daphne's floral perfume as she stepped inside.
"This is incredible," Daphne breathed, moving toward a shelf where an intricately carved wolf pack stood frozen mid-run. Her fingers hovered over the detailed fur texture. "You made all these?"
"Yes." Pride swelled in his chest at her genuine amazement. He'd never shown anyone his workshop before yet watching her explore it felt... right.
"The detail is extraordinary." She moved to examine a miniature dragon, its scales individually carved and polished. "Look at those wings!"
Her enthusiasm sparked something warm in him. "The wings are the hardest part. Getting the membrane texture just right takes patience."
"And this lighthouse!" Daphne circled a three-foot model of the town's historic beacon. "I can see every brick."
Archer found himself drawn closer to her, his dragon instincts purring at her presence in his private space. "Want to see what I'm working on now?"
At her eager nod, he led her to his workbench where the half-finished schooner sat. His tools lay precisely arranged nearby, each with its own purpose, each essential to creating the perfect detail.
"Oh my god, Archer." Daphne leaned in close, studying the intricate rope work along the deck. "This is museum quality. Have you ever thought about selling these?"
He shrugged, distracted by how the light caught the gold flecks in her green eyes. "Never had a reason to."
"You should consider it. People would pay good money for work like this." She turned to face him, her expression earnest. "You have a real gift."
The praise from her lips hit differently than any accolade he'd ever received. His dragon preened under her attention, and something shifted in him – a realization that made him freeze.
He really was falling for her.
The thought should have sent him running. Instead, watching her trace the carved railings of his ship with such care, all he wanted was to pull her closer.
Damn it all to hell. When had this happened? How had this cheerful witch with her endless optimism and genuine heart managed to slip past his defenses?
"You're staring," Daphne said, a smile playing at her lips.
"Just making sure you don't break anything." The lie came easily.