Page 9 of Hot for the Dragon (Saltwater Grove #3)

9

DAPHNE

T he Salty Dog Café buzzed with the lunch crowd's chatter as Daphne picked at her sandwich, her attention split between the jewelry store across the street and her companion. Archer sat with his back to the wall, commanding the small corner table they'd chosen with his broad shoulders and watchful presence.

"Ned's got white-blond hair, stands about six-four." Archer's voice dropped so that only she could hear. "Usually wears expensive suits, trying to look important."

"Sounds memorable enough." Daphne stirred her iced tea, sneaking another look at Archer's profile. The sunlight streaming through the window caught the auburn highlights in his hair, and the way his jaw clenched spoke of carefully contained power.

"You're staring again." He didn't even turn his head.

Heat crept up her neck. "I was just wondering what made you so... you."

"Careful." His dark eyes finally met hers, a hint of amusement lurking in their depths. "Curiosity killed the cat."

"Good thing I'm a witch then." She grinned, and for a moment, his stern expression cracked into something almost resembling a smile.

The whispers from nearby tables weren't exactly subtle. Daphne caught fragments about "that dragon" and "dangerous" and "stay away." Yet watching him methodically dissect his burger while maintaining perfect surveillance of their target, she saw someone disciplined rather than dangerous. Well, maybe both.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" She twirled a french fry in ketchup.

"Trying to analyze me." He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement stretched his henley across muscles that definitely hadn't come from woodworking alone.

"Maybe I just think you're interesting." The words slipped out before she knew it.

His eyebrow rose. "Interesting is code for trouble."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." She surprised herself by winking at him.

Archer's lips twitched, but he quickly returned to scanning the street. Even that brief interaction left her pulse racing slightly. Two days ago, she'd thought he was just another arrogant dragon. Now she found herself drawn to the quiet intensity beneath his gruff exterior, wondering what experiences had shaped him into the man he is now.

Archer's sudden shift in attention caught Daphne off guard. His dark eyes locked onto her eyes, and her heart started beating erratically in her chest.

"Why are you mixed up in all this? It just doesn’t make sense to me." His deep voice carried genuine curiosity beneath its usual gruffness.

Daphne's fingers traced the condensation on her glass. "I told you, I watched my shop burn." The words stuck in her throat. "Everything I worked for, gone in seconds. The roses I'd been growing for Mrs. Henderson's anniversary party. The orchids I'd finally gotten to bloom. The little succulents I'd arranged for the window display."

Her vision blurred as tears welled up. "But that wasn't even the worst part. People were hurt, scared, and all I could do was stand there. My magic only works with plants - I couldn't stop the fires or heal anyone." She wiped at her eyes with her napkin. "I felt so useless."

"And now?" Archer's question was almost gentle.

"Now I'm trying to do something. Anything." She met his gaze. "Even if it means working with a grumpy dragon who probably thinks I'm just getting in his way."

To her surprise, his eyes softened slightly. "You're not entirely in the way."

"High praise coming from you." She managed a small smile.

His expression shifted, something almost tender crossing his features before he caught himself and looked away. But Daphne had seen it - a crack in that carefully maintained wall of indifference.

"Your shop," he said after a moment, still not meeting her eyes. "What was it called?"

"Petal & Vine." She conjured a small violet in her palm, letting it twist and grow between her fingers. "Nothing fancy, but it was mine."

Archer watched the flower dance across her hand, that unexpected softness returning to his face. For someone who'd spent years in isolation, who supposedly cared about nothing and no one, he looked remarkably affected by her story.

Archer cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Do you like it? Being a florist?"

His questions caught Daphne by surprise, especially coming from someone who seemed to care so little about others' interests. But his dark eyes held a spark of curiosity, and she felt her enthusiasm bubble up.

"I love it." She straightened, unable to contain her smile. "There's something magical about helping people choose the perfect flowers for their special moments. Wedding bouquets, anniversary arrangements, even simple 'I'm sorry' roses." Her hands moved animatedly as she spoke. "And the greenhouse work is incredible - watching seeds transform into these beautiful blooms..."

Archer's lips quirked up at her excitement, which only encouraged her further.

"Actually, I've been saving up to buy this amazing space on Belladonna Boulevard." Daphne's eyes sparkled as she described her dream. "It used to be a café, but it has these gorgeous windows and so much natural light. I could have a proper greenhouse in the back, maybe even host gardening classes-" She caught herself rambling and felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Sorry, I get carried away sometimes."

"Don't apologize." His voice was surprisingly gentle. "It's... refreshing to see someone passionate about something."

The warmth in his tone made her stomach flutter, but then reality crashed back in. Her shoulders slumped slightly. "Though with the fire damage to my shop, those savings will probably have to go toward repairs instead." She twisted her napkin in her lap, trying to keep her voice light despite the disappointment weighing on her chest. "Back to square one, I guess."

"Insurance won't cover it?"

"Some, but..." She sighed. "Let's just say Carmen's attack wasn't exactly covered under 'acts of God.'"

Archer's jaw tightened, and something fierce flashed in his eyes. "We'll stop her," he said, his voice carrying the kind of authority that came from years of command.

After a few moments, Daphne gathered her courage, warmed by Archer's unexpected interest in her work. "So, what about you? Do you really enjoy the woodworking?"

His shoulders tensed, but he gave a short nod. "It keeps my hands busy."

"What kind of things do you make?" She leaned forward, genuinely curious.

Archer's dark eyes studied her face, searching for any hint of mockery. Finding none, his posture relaxed slightly. "Mostly small pieces. Dragon figures, ship models."

"That must take incredible patience." Her fingers traced the table's edge. "I can barely manage to keep my plants trimmed properly."

A hint of a smile touched his lips. "It's about control. Finding the shape hidden in the wood."

"Like how every flower has its own perfect form?" The comparison slipped out before she could stop it.

His eyebrows rose. "Actually, yes." He shifted in his seat, those broad shoulders loosening as he warmed to the subject. "Each piece of wood has its own grain, its own... personality, I suppose."

Daphne's heart fluttered at this glimpse behind his walls. "What's your favorite wood to work with?"

"Cherry." The word came quickly, followed by a self-conscious cough. "It's challenging but rewarding. Takes a fine touch to bring out the natural luster."

"Like coaxing a stubborn rose to bloom." She smiled, recognizing the pride of a craftsman in his work.

His eyes met hers, something unguarded in their depths. "Exactly."

The café's buzz faded into background noise as he described his latest project, his voice growing animated. Daphne found herself captivated not just by his words, but by the way his whole demeanor transformed when speaking about his passion. The feared dragon shifter disappeared, replaced by an artist discussing his craft.

Those whispers from nearby tables seemed even more ridiculous now. How could anyone see this man, with his careful hands and thoughtful descriptions of wood grain patterns, as nothing but dangerous? Sure, he radiated power and authority, but there was also gentleness in how he spoke of his work.

"You're doing it again," he said, but this time his tone held more amusement than warning.

"Maybe I just like watching you talk about something you love." Those words slipped out of her mouth unbidden.

A faint color touched his cheeks, and he looked away, though not before she caught the pleased quirk of his lips.

Daphne watched Archer's gaze suddenly sharpen, his entire demeanor shifting from relaxed conversation to predatory focus in an instant. Following his line of sight, she spotted a tall man with white-blond hair stepping into Adam's jewelry store. His expensive suit practically screamed "trying too hard."

"That's our guy," Archer's voice dropped to a low rumble. "Ned."

Her heart picked up speed as she watched through the café window. Sure enough, minutes later, Ned emerged with the package they'd seen earlier, tucking it into his suit jacket.

"Time to move." Archer stood in one fluid motion. He pulled out his wallet and dropped some bills on the table.

"I can pay for my half-" Daphne started to protest.

"We don't have time to argue about lunch money." His hand settled on the small of her back, guiding her toward the door. The casual touch sent tingles up her spine. "Besides, I'm old-fashioned that way."

She couldn't help but smile as they stepped outside.

Archer soon spotted Ned walking quickly up ahead. "Ned's heading east on Market Street. We need to keep our distance - he'll be watching for tails."

"Good thing you've got a witch who can make us look busy then." Daphne conjured a small bouquet of flowers, holding them between them like they were simply out shopping. "See? Just a couple on a romantic afternoon stroll."

Archer's eyebrows shot up, but she caught the ghost of a smile before he schooled his features back to serious. "Clever. But stay close - if this goes sideways, I need to be able to protect you."

The possessive note in his voice made her stomach flutter, even as she wanted to remind him she wasn't helpless. But now wasn't the time to argue.