Page 31 of Never Been Gargoyled (Harmony Glen #4)

DAZY

Six months later, I stood at the front entrance of Winterbourne Botanical Gardens, watching the early morning light filter through the trees we'd carefully pruned to frame the view.

The brass plaque beside the gate gleamed in the sunshine: Winterbourne Botanical Gardens - In Memory of Helga Morrison, Who Taught Us That Beautiful Things Grow When Tended With Love.

“You're vibrating.” Feydin came up behind me with two steaming cups of coffee. “Literally. I can feel the excitement radiating off you from ten feet away.”

I accepted the coffee, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “I can't help it. Opening day! People are actually going to walk through our gardens and see what we've created.”

“What you've created. I just moved heavy things around and had stern talks with the occasional mouse.”

“You did way more than that.” I bumped his shoulder with mine, careful not to spill coffee on either of us. “The fountain design, the stone pathways, that gorgeous pergola you built. This place is as much yours as it is mine.”

His wings shifted in that pleased way they did when I complimented his work.

After six months together, I'd learned to read his wing language pretty well.

Flared meant protective or aroused, tight against his back meant nervous, and this gentle flutter meant he was happy but trying not to show it too much.

“The pergola was a group effort,” he said. “Dorvak helped with the heavy lifting.”

“Only because you bribed him with the promise that his pastries would be featured in our café.”

“It’s a smart business decision.”

I grinned. The little café had been Feydin's idea, built into what used to be the old carriage house.

Dorvak provided fresh baked goods daily, and we served tea made from herbs grown in our own garden—under the direction of Laney, our local tea expert.

It had been an instant hit during our soft opening last month.

“Speaking of which.” I checked my phone for the time. “Shouldn't Dorvak be here soon with the opening day treats?”

“Any minute. Along with about half the town, if the RSVP list is accurate.”

My stomach did a flip. We'd expected maybe thirty people for the grand opening. Instead, we had over a hundred confirmed guests, including several reporters from local newspapers and what appeared to be the entire population of Harmony Glen.

“What if they don't like it?” I asked, the question slipping out.

Feydin set down his coffee and turned to face me fully. “Dazy. Look around.”

The gardens spread out in carefully planned waves of color and texture.

The spring bulbs we'd planted were in full bloom, from daffodils and tulips creating bold splashes of yellow to red peonies.

The herb garden by the café filled the air with the scent of mint and lavender.

Cherry trees lined the main path, their branches heavy with pale pink blossoms that drifted down like snow when the breeze stirred them.

“It's gorgeous,” I said.

“It's more than gorgeous. It's magical. You've created something that feeds people's souls, not just their eyes.”

“ We've created something.”

“Fine. We've created something miraculous. And if people don't see that, they’re never going to appreciate beauty. Trust me. Everyone’s going to properly appreciate my mate's genius.”

Mate. He still used that word sometimes, and it made my heart do acrobatics.

Gargoyle mating customs were apparently very romantic, involving lots of providing and protecting and creating lovely things for their chosen person.

Not that I was complaining. Being the chosen person of someone like Feydin was amazing.

“Your faith in me is either really sweet or biased,” I said .

“Both. Definitely both.”

A van pulled up to the gate, followed by another car. Then another. My stomach fluttered again.

“They're early,” I said.

“Good. That means they're excited.”

I watched Dorvak climb out of his vehicle and start unloading boxes of pastries. Behind him, a yeti emerged from a truck carrying enormous bundles of flowers.

“Who’s that…?” I squinted at the gargoyle—gargoyle! —getting out of the second vehicle.

“My brother.” Feydin's voice held a touch of surprise. “He said he might make it, but I wasn't sure if he’d come.”

This male was obviously related to Feydin, but where my gargoyle was all solid strength and protective intensity, this one moved like a panther.

Taller than Feydin by a few inches, he had the same gray skin but darker hair and wings that seemed to shimmer with an almost metallic sheen.

His features were sharper, more angular, and when he smiled, it was the kind of smile that probably made people forget their own names.

“Wow,” I breathed. “Your brother is…”

“Annoying?” Feydin suggested.

“I was going to say gorgeous, but sure. We’ll go with annoying.”

Feydin growled. “He doesn't need his ego stroked, but I might.”

“Relax. I'm already spoken for.” I squeezed his hand. “Besides, he doesn't have your charm.”

“I have charm? ”

“Tons of it. In a grumpy, I'll-build-you-a-secret-garden-room sort of way.”

That earned me one of his full smiles, the kind that made his whole face light up and reminded me why I'd fallen so hard for him from the start.

The gorgeous brother approached us with fluid grace, and I could see the family resemblance more clearly as he got closer.

“Gavrel,” Feydin said, and there was warmth in his voice despite his earlier grumbling.

“Mon frère.” Gavrel's accent was thick, deep, and almost musical. “You look content.”

The two brothers embraced. I stepped back to give them space, watching the way their wings curved toward each other in what looked like an instinctive gesture of affection.

“This must be the famous Dazy,” Gavrel said, turning that devastating smile on me. “The woman who tamed my brother's wild heart.”

“Dazy?” Feydin said. “This is my brother, Gavrel. Gavrel? This is my mate, Dazy.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “But I don't think anyone can tame Feydin. At best, I convinced him I was worth keeping around.”

“Clever. And modest.” His gaze swept appreciatively over the gardens. “What you have created here is magnifique.”

“Thank you. Feydin helped with everything.”

“I am sure he did. My brother has always been good with things like this. ”

More cars were arriving now, and I could see people beginning to gather at the entrance. The official opening wasn't for another hour, but folks seemed eager to tour.

“We should probably…” I gestured toward the growing crowd.

“Of course,” Gavrel said. “We’ll speak more later, oui?” He directed this to Feydin.

Feydin nodded. “I'd like that.”

“Bon. Now go, show off your beautiful gardens.”

The next hour passed in a whirlwind of introductions, tour groups, and more compliments than I knew how to handle.

People genuinely loved what we'd created.

They hung out by the fountain, chattering about the exotic plants in the greenhouse, and took dozens of photos of the flowering trees lit up with twinkle lights.

The local newspaper reporters asked insightful questions about our conservation efforts and educational programs. A food blogger spent twenty minutes raving about Dorvak's lavender shortbread. Three different people asked about booking wedding ceremonies in the rose garden.

By the time we gathered everyone for the official ribbon-cutting ceremony, I was giddy with relief and joy.

“I can't believe this is real,” I whispered to Feydin as we stood in front of the crowd.

“Dazy?”

Why was his voice shaking?

Turning to face him, I frowned.

He dropped to one knee.

In front of a few hundred people, with cameras clicking and at least two phones recording, my gargoyle pulled out a small velvet box.

“Dazy Osborne,” he said, his voice carrying clearly across the garden. “You brought me back to life. You saw beauty where others saw wilted plants, potential where others saw problems. You fought for this place, for us, for the future we could build together.”

My hands flew to my mouth. I made a sound that was part laugh, part sob.

“I love your determination, your kindness, your interesting jokes about compost. I love the way you hum when you're happy and the way you talk to plants like they're old friends. I love everything about you, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

He opened the box, revealing a ring that took my breath away. The center stone was a deep green emerald surrounded by small diamonds. White gold wrapped around the band.

He cleared his throat. “Will you marry me?”

The crowd held its breath. I was vaguely aware of Gavrel grinning in the front row, of Dorvak nodding, of Ogram wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

But mostly I was aware of Feydin, my sweet, awkward, wonderful gargoyle, looking at me with his heart in his eyes.

“Yes,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Yes, absolutely, completely yes.”

He slipped the ring on my finger, then stood and swept me into his arms, spinning me around while the crowd cheered and clapped. When he set me down, he kissed me, his wings spreading wide behind us in a gesture of pure joy.

“I love you,” I said against his mouth.

“I love you too, future Mrs. Budiere.”

“Mrs. Budiere.” I tested the name, liking how it sounded. “I think I can get used to that.”

“Good. Because you're stuck with me now.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Forever and always.”

As everyone rushed over to give congratulations and photographers snapped pictures of us, I looked around at the gardens we'd created together. The botanical garden that had started as a desperate dream was now thriving, full of visitors who appreciated what we'd coaxed from abandoned ground.

We'd built something amazing. A business, a home, a life that was everything I'd never dared to hope for.

And now we had the rest of our lives to keep it growing.

The ring on my finger caught the sunlight, throwing tiny rainbows across the deep green lawn.

Feydin's hand found mine.

“Ready for the rest of our lives?” he asked.

I squeezed his hand, my heart so full, I worried it might burst. “With you, I'm ready for anything.”

I hope you enjoyed Feydin & Dazy’s botanical romance.