Page 9 of Serving my Dragon (The Dragocracy Chronicles #2)

Chapter Six

I fed Polly, and my mind whirred. I should have been focused on catching up on correspondence that arrived while I was on vacation, but instead of going through my many voicemails, invoices, and other administrative tasks, I found myself on the internet seeking answers by using a variety of search terms.

What lizards can talk? Because I struggled with the whole dragon bit. Perhaps a parrot-like reptile existed that I didn’t know about.

How are dragons born?

Can dragons speak?

Do volcano lizards exist?

I entered all kinds of combinations of words and phrases.

Turned out, any use of the word dragon got me everything from Game of Thrones to a wiki of every fictional dragon in existence.

None of it came even close to what Pollita had described.

Just like no images—lizard or otherwise—resembled her.

As for the first search, could lizards talk?

The answer “yes” was with the caveat they did so with body language and mannerisms.

My research left me just as confused as before I began and at a loss for what to do.

I knew a creature so rare should be reported, but I balked, knowing that not only would they imprison Pollita, but that I’d lose her.

I’d become oddly attached in the short time since we’d met.

Still, I couldn’t exactly keep a dragon secret.

With more questions than answers, I ditched the whole dragon dilemma and instead tackled my emails, most of them junk. A new reply from Sally had me pursing my lips and debating showing Kayleigh.

Listen, you fuckwad, I know you’re not Kayleigh because she’s travelling with me. So find another person to scam.

Wait. Sally was with Kayleigh? It had me wondering, could it be the woman living with me was lying about her identity?

After all, I only had her word that anything she’d told me was the truth.

It did seem odd no one had reported her missing.

Even if she was travelling alone, a hotel should have noticed when a guest didn’t return from an excursion.

My phone rang and, recognizing the tune, I answered, “Hola, Mama.”

“You are needed to carry stuff.” No hello. No how are you doing.

Welcome to the life of being an only son. “I’ll be right there, Mama.”

Since Polly napped in a sunny spot, I quietly snuck out and strolled up the road to Mama’s house.

I entered to a familiar savory smell, only it wasn’t just Mama sweating in the kitchen.

A flushed Kayleigh beamed at me. “I made dinner, but there’s too much for me to tote. Thanks for lending your muscles.”

I dare any man not to be tempted to flex.

“The girl is a natural cook.” Mama offered some rare praise. “Excellent sense of taste.” An even bigger compliment. According to Mama, you didn’t make food by measuring each ingredient precisely. It was about texture and flavor, adding a pinch of this or that until the right combination was hit.

“I can’t wait to taste it. Will you be joining us?” I asked Mama.

“No.” She shook her head. “Not while you have that lizard.”

“Polly’s a sweetheart,” Kayleigh stated. “But I get it. I’m terrified of mice. Whenever we’d get one in the house, I’d be up on a chair, screaming. Dad would holler at Mom to put the gun away, but Mom never did holster it until Dad got a box to scoop up the mouse and put it outside.”

“I like using a broom,” Mama confided. “Smack it over the head and then sweep it through the door.”

“You will not be smashing Pollita,” I sternly warned, and then changed the subject because Kayleigh’s comment struck me as a little nuts. “Did you say your mom tried to shoot a mouse in the house?”

Kayleigh’s lips curved. “She wanted to, but Dad wouldn’t let her, seeing as how the last time she fired a shot it took him forever to fix the hole in the ceiling. The bullet hit a pipe in the upstairs bathroom and, well… let’s just say it made a mess.”

“What was she shooting at?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Bat. It found a hole in a screen and flew in.”

“Your mother had a fiery spirit.”

“She was pretty awesome,” Kayleigh admitted. “Dad used to say I looked just like her, but I’m not as brave, I’m afraid.”

“At least you inherited her birthing hips,” Mama commented, nodding with approval.

“Mama, you can’t say that. It’s rude.”

Kayleigh, however, snickered. “I don’t mind. It’s nicer than being told I’m too fat. Besides, it is kind of a compliment, seeing as how I want lots of babies.”

Mama patted her arm. “You will have many. Carmelita has seen it.”

Wait, when had my aunt done Kayleigh’s fortune? And just who was Kayleigh having babies with?

Not something I could ask, nor should I care. Kayleigh would only be here a short while until her affairs got sorted. A good thing, too, because my matchmaking mama appeared to be taking too keen of an interest.

“We should get this pot home while it’s hot,” I exclaimed before Mama could embarrass either of us any further. A good thing I did have a bit of muscle since they’d cooked up a large batch of food.

Dinner was delicious. Or was it the company I enjoyed? Polly declared it the best meal yet, but within the hour, she crawled into my lap, a hot and shivering ball of misery.

“What’s wrong?” I asked with concern. “Did the meal disagree with you?

“The molting is upon me.”

“And how long will that last?”

“As long as it takes,” murmured Polly, before closing her eyes.

I glanced at Kayleigh who shrugged. “Reptiles shed at different rates and I would imagine how they handle it differs as well. I wouldn’t panic. After all, Pollita doesn’t seem concerned.”

“But she’s burning up.” The heat of her radiated.

“You told me she’d mentioned she’d be feverish. Just keep her close by.”

“To do what?” I was no expert.

“To let her know you’re there. Polly trusts you.”

And I’d gotten oddly attached in such a short time, and not just to the lizard who claimed to be a dragon. I glanced at Kayleigh. “So, Sally sent another email.”

“Did she look at the picture?”

“Nope. She claims we’re obviously scamming her since you’re with her.”

Kayleigh blinked. “She said what?”

“Are you sure you’re actually Kayleigh Carmichael? Could it be your amnesia has you using someone else’s name?”

Her lips pursed. “I want to say no, but I don’t know how to be sure. If I’m not Kayleigh then who am I?”

She seemed so dejected. There had to be a way to confirm whether or not she was Kayleigh or someone else. An idea hit me. “You have social media accounts, right?”

“Yes, but without my phone I can’t log into any of them.”

“No, but we can look them up and check out the profile pics. Which app do you use the most?” I asked, sliding my laptop close enough I could tap the keys on it without disturbing Polly.

“Instagram, mostly. I follow a bunch of restaurants and cooks.” Her cheek dimpled. “I like to challenge myself by recreating some of their dishes.”

“Given how much you like cooking, I’m surprised you went into teaching,” I said as I went through the steps of setting up an account because apparently, I couldn’t just search for someone without being registered.

“I thought about becoming a chef but Mom pointed out the food industry is one of the toughest. And she had a point. Glad I listened. So many places shut down during the pandemic. Teaching is a tad more insulated in that respect. Not to mention, I’m not sure I should make a hobby I enjoy a full-time job. ”

“Mama thought about opening a restaurant, but when Papa died, she worried for the same reason you did. Stability. Sewing brings in a steady revenue and, as she told me, allowed her to be home with me instead of working late hours elsewhere.”

“Your mom is awesome.” Kayleigh declared. “So patient, teaching me how to make those tamales. And you should have seen her memorizing my pie recipe.”

The comment startled. “Mama asked you to show her how to make pie?”

“Yes. She said my crust was flaky perfection, and the combination of fruits with little sugar added impressive. If I could have framed the praise I would have because I know she’s not one to exaggerate.”

No, Mama wasn’t. I’d not actually tasted the pie out of fear Mama would freak. I’d stuck to her dessert of picarones, a donut-like treat.

“Okay, I’m on Instagram. How do I find you?” I asked.

“You could try using my name or typing my handle in directly. It’s Kayleighcooksyummies.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Cute.”

“Blame my mother. She was the one who set it up for me. I didn’t even know about the account until Sally asked why I didn’t save some of my Black Forest cake for her. Apparently, Mom was posting pics of the stuff I made.”

“Found your page.” And one thing became clear, the Kayleigh Carmichael in the profile picture was the person sitting in my living room. Same blonde hair and bright smile.

Kayleigh moved from the chair to the couch right beside me and leaned close. “Well, at least I remembered my name correctly. What’s the most recent post?”

“Looks like one from today.” I clicked on the thumbnail and there was Kayleigh, standing outside Páprika, a restaurant I knew of but had never eaten at. She stood beside a petite redhead. “Who’s that?”

“Sally, my best friend,” Kayleigh murmured.

The next image was again of the pair, this time posing in the canyon. Then another of them in a hotel room, grinning as they sipped a colorful cocktail. A different image posted for each of the last five days. Impossible, since we’d been together for the last two.

“Someone’s hacked my account and is posting fake pics of me!” she exclaimed.

“Might not be fake.”

“Well, how do you explain the most recent ones?”

“I don’t think they’re recent,” I murmured, zooming in. “If you look, you’re wearing the same outfit in three of these pics.”