Page 12 of Never Been Gargoyled (Harmony Glen #4)

Feydin

T he sky stretched endlessly above me, painted in the soft grays and pinks of early dawn. Wind rushed beneath my wings as I soared toward town, the estate growing smaller behind me. Flying had always been freedom, but this morning it felt different.

I was flying to see a friend.

The thought still surprised me. When had I started thinking of the orc baker as anything more than a gruff shopkeeper who made excellent bread?

I landed behind the bakery in the small alley where delivery trucks normally parked. The scent of yeast drifted from the open back door, telling me Dorvak was already at work. I folded my wings and walked around to the front, pushing open the door that chimed to announce my arrival.

“You're up early,” Dorvak said without looking up from a tray of bread he was arranging in the display case.

“Good morning to you too. ”

His mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile I'd seen from him. “What brings you here before the sun's properly up?”

“Breakfast for Dazy.”

“Ah, Dazy?”

“You met her.” It was all I could do not to growl at him to stay away. But that wouldn’t be right. She wasn’t mine. I wasn’t hers.

I ignored the bleakness that thought brought me and studied the loaves of bread on display, trying to decide if rolls or a rustic loaf might impress her. The woman had demolished what was left in her bakery box with sounds that made my wings twitch. “What would you recommend?”

“Depends.” He set down the tray and fixed me with a steady look. “Are you trying to impress her?”

Heat crept up my neck. “Maybe.”

“Hmm.” Dorvak crossed his arms on his chest and gave me a long look. “You know anything about winning a female’s heart?”

The question hit me like a stone to the head. “No.”

“Me neither.” He shrugged. “But I've been thinking about it lately.”

“You have someone in mind?”

“Maybe.” His green skin darkened. “There’s a female I have been…watching.”

“Have you talked with her?”

“Why would I do something like that?” he barked.

I shrugged. “That might make it easier to get to know her. ”

He frowned, cocking his head. “You think so?”

“It works better than glaring. So I’ve heard.”

“Does it?” He looked genuinely puzzled. “How can you tell?”

I stared at him. Here was an orc asking a gargoyle for romantic advice. We were both clearly doomed. “I have no idea.”

“Yes.” He nodded gravely. “That means we're both hopeless.”

“Completely.”

We stood there for a moment, two monsters contemplating the mystery of female hearts.

“What have you tried so far with your Dazy?” he asked.

“She's not my…” I stopped. Was she? “I helped her with yard work yesterday.”

“I heard somewhere that women like useful males.”

I paused, thinking about that. “Do they?”

“My mother always said so. I’m sure she was talking about hauling lumber and fixing roofs, but maybe it applies to other things too.”

“I could fix things around the estate for Dazy. Haul lumber if she has the need.”

“That could work.” He seemed pleased with this development. “What else?”

“I kissed her.”

His eyebrows rose. “You dared?”

My face overheated. “It sort of just happened.”

He nodded seriously. “How'd that go?”

“She kissed me back. ”

“You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t kiss her without her permission,” I barked. But had I asked? I couldn’t remember.

I wasn’t one of those grope-without-asking-first-gargoyles, was I? Unease churned through my guts.

“If you’ve progressed to kisses, you may not be as hopeless as you seem.”

“Maybe. I don't know what to do next.”

The orc stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I read somewhere that women like flowers.”

Dazy sure did love gardening. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “What kind do you think works best for courtship?”

“Whatever’s blooming, I guess. Dandelions when there’s nothing else.”

“Dandelions are weeds.” I’d used the wacky weeder on a lot of them yesterday.

“I think the point is to give her something.”

“I want to buy her bread. You don’t think that’s enough?”

He grunted. “You’re asking me? I told you I haven’t even spoken with the female I’ve got an eye on yet.” He scanned the offerings. “What would you like to get for Dazy?”

“She loves sweets.” I glared at all the not-sweet bread.

“A healthy appetite speaks well of her. I have just what you need.” He went out to the kitchen and returned with a white box.

“She was here before. Liked some of this stuff, which I don’t understand.

So I made more. In case she came back. No other reason.

” He handed me the box over the counter.

“I tried chocolate croissants and cinnamon rolls this time. Bring these to her and she’ll think you a hero. ”

“Will she?”

“As if I know?”

Tucking the box under my arm, I nodded slowly. “I’ve tried talking with her. Dazy, that is. But I worry I’ll say the wrong thing.”

“If you do that, you apologize and try again.”

“Thank you.” I pulled out my wallet. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Consider it an investment in our education.” His face darkened again, and he directed his gaze at the floor. “We could help each other out. Compare what works and what doesn’t.”

“You mean I should experiment and tell you what works and what doesn’t so you don’t make the same mistakes as me.”

He looked almost hopeful. “Unless you think that's a terrible idea.”

“No, I think it's a good one.”

He grunted.

“In between then, you should get up the nerve to speak with the woman you’re interested in.”

“I’ll try.”

With a nod, I stepped out into the morning air, box in hand, and realized I was smiling. It had been great talking to Dorvak. Easy and comfortable, like we were old friends instead of near strangers .

I guess I did have a friend. Two, if I counted Dazy.

The thought made my chest feel light as I took to the sky.

The flight back to the estate was shorter, wind carrying me swiftly over the trees. I landed on the front lawn and folded my wings. Closing my eyes, I sought the feel of the building as all house gargoyles do. No movement I could discern the second floor. Dazy was still sleeping.

Wonderful. I had a lot left to do.

I let myself in through the front door and carried the box to the kitchen. New treasures that would make my sweet-loving woman happy. I arranged them on one of Helga's good plates, the blue and white china she'd brought back from a trip to England.

Now for a note. I found paper and a pen in the drawer by the telephone.

Thank you for lunch yesterday. Returning the favor with breakfast. -F

I stared at the words. Were they too formal? Should I hint at romance? I’d heard it said that it was the thought that counted, but my thoughts might not be good enough.

Hopefully she’d know who F was.

I propped the note against the plate.

After admiring my gift, I went to the sink to wash the stickiness off my hands. The faucet turned easily, but only a thin trickle of water emerged. I tried the other handle. Same problem .

This wouldn't do. Dazy deserved proper water pressure.

I made a mental note of what the faucet looked like and headed back outside. Another flight, this time to the hardware store. The owner knew exactly what I needed.

“Old faucet like that, you'll want to replace the aerator and maybe the cartridge,” they said, pulling parts from various bins and handing them to me. “Got everything right here.”

Twenty minutes later, I was back in Dazy's kitchen with tools and replacement parts. The repair took longer than expected. The old cartridge had corroded in places and required careful coaxing to remove. But when I turned the water back on after I’d finished, it flowed strong and clear.

Much better.

I cleaned up my tools and washed my hands properly, then stepped back to survey the kitchen. Faucet working as it should. Pastries arranged beautifully. Note positioned where she couldn't miss it.

Upstairs, I could hear the faint sound of an alarm clock ringing. Footsteps crossed the floor above me.

She was awake.

I slipped outside and settled on the front porch, positioning myself where I could hear but not be immediately visible. My heart kept jolting against my ribs. Would she like the pastries or notice the faucet? She might think I was being presumptuous, rather than helpful.

The kitchen door creaked .

Silence.

Then, from inside the house, a squeal of pure delight made my wings flutter with happiness.

“Oh my gosh. Feydin?”

She knew that F meant me. My insides melted at the thought.

Her voice carried joy and surprise and what might even be called affection. Releasing my breath, I settled back against the chair with satisfaction.

Now I just had to figure out what to do for her next.