Page 2 of The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas
Instead of taking the plate to one of the empty tables, the man just stood at the counter and stared down at the cookie. After a moment, he reached out with his slender fingers and picked up the cookie. He lifted it, angling it from side to side, perusing it. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Jack stifled a frown. Was there something wrong with the cookie?
He’d never seen anyone do something like this before. Usually, customers bought the food, took it to a table, ate it, and then left.
Was the cookie below this fellow’s high standards? Jack pulled himself up as a flash of pride filled him. They made top-tier cookies in the Magic Bakery.
The man continued to examine the pale crescent-shaped baked good. He then lifted it to his nose. Eyes fluttering shut, the man inhaled, nostrils flaring. A small, pleased rumble escaped him.
Then he opened his mouth and placed the tip of the cookie on the plump flesh of his lower lip. He slid it into his mouth and bit into the morsel. The man chewed, making a soft groaning sound.
Jack couldn’t look away. Heat flushed his skin.
Why is this so erotic? I’m a baker. I’m used to seeing people eating baked goods.
But the way this man savoured the cookie, taking his time, the small sounds of pleasure that escaped him—it all felt strangely intimate. And sensual. The stranger popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth and chewed slowly, mouth and jaw working.
Finally, he stopped. He licked his lower lip, now covered in white powdered sugar. He sighed. Opening his eyes, he smiled slowly at Jack.
The bakery felt warmer than usual.
“Thank you. That was—” He paused as if thinking. “—divine.”
Jack would usually laugh at a comment like that. But he didn’t. The stranger had spoken with complete and absolute sincerity.
“You’re welcome.”
CHAPTER 2
“It was an amazing cookie,” the man said.
A sense of satisfaction warmed Jack’s chest. To provide and care for others with baking was a privilege and a blessing. As hearth and kitchen witches, his family strove to provide for and nurture their customers with their food.
“I take it you like vanilla crescent cookies. Is it a favourite of yours?” That would explain why a highbrow servant like this might leave the hoity-toity areas in search of them.
If it had been a childhood Christmas treat, Jack could imagine the memories and feelings eating one could bring about. Perhaps a parent had baked them for this man as a child and eating it reminded him of them. Food and memory were bound so tightly together, especially when food was created with love.
The man shook his head, curls fluttering. “No. That was the first one I’ve ever eaten.”
“Really?” Jack’s brows furrowed. Then why had he been looking for them for days? It was perplexing.
But that wasn’t any of Jack’s business.
“It is just how I imagined it would be.” The man placed his slender fingers on the counter, pressing them against the dark wood.
“And how did you imagine it?” Jack couldn’t help but ask.
“Hmmm.” He smiled and considered. “Like warmth. Like being curled up on a rug before a fire, surrounded by my books.” His bright eyes gleamed.
“Oh. That’s…”…very specific.“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Is it a secret family recipe?” The man’s elegant brows rose.
Jack chuckled, surprised by the strange question. “It is a family recipe. Most of our recipes are. But it isn’t really a secret.”
“And is this actually a magic bakery?” the man whispered, referring to the name of the bakery, the Magic Bakery. “I heard it was run by witches?”
Jack regarded the man. Some looked down on witches, believing witches used a base and weak form of magic. Whilst Mages, warlocks, wizards, and sorcerers were seen to use more powerful and superior magic.