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"I know we barely know each other," she said quickly. "I know this is crazy and dangerous and probably the worst possible timing. But I can't pretend I don't feel this connection between us. And I don't want to."

"Neither do I," he admitted. "But you should know, after this job is done, I don't exactly have a normal life to offer you. This is what I do—high-risk transportation, staying one step ahead of the law, never knowing where the next job will take me."

"Sounds perfect," Hazel said promptly. "Normal was never really an option for me anyway."

"Plus," Hopper added, "normal is overrated. Look where normal got her—almost married to a guy who collects teddy bears."

The CB radio crackled again. "Breaker one-nine, this is Snowman with an update for Bullseye."

"Go ahead, Snowman."

"I've got good news and bad news. Good news is, I found us a safe place to hunker down for the night. Bad news is, those witch covens aren't giving up. They've got teams searching every truck stop and fuel station between here and our delivery point."

"Where's this safe place?"

"About forty miles northeast of your current position. It's a supernatural bed-and-breakfast run by a retired dragon. Goes by the name 'Scales and Tails Inn.' Owner's name is Bertha, and she's got a strict no-questions-asked policy."

"A dragon-run bed-and-breakfast?" Hazel asked. "That's either the safest place in the desert or a trap."

"Bertha's good people," Snowman's voice assured them. "She's been retired from the corporate world for twenty years, and she's got no love for the current generation of dragon executives. Plus, her establishment has some serious magical protections. Nobody's getting in there who isn't invited."

"Sounds like our best option," Bullseye said. "Send us the coordinates. But Snowman—we can't stay long. With the detour adding eight hours and the rendezvous requirement, we're cutting it close on the deadline."

"Roger that. We'll grab a few hours of sleep, then push hard for LA. The clients aren't going to be happy if we're late."

"Fair warning though," Snowman continued, "Bertha's got some... opinions about young folks and their relationships. She tends to meddle."

"Meddle how?" Hazel asked suspiciously.

"Let's just say she's a hopeless romantic with the magical power to back up her matchmaking efforts. Try not to take anything she says too seriously."

"Oh, wonderful," Hopper sighed. "A meddling dragon. Because our love lives weren't complicated enough already."

The radio went silent, leaving them with directions to what sounded like either salvation or the most awkward night of their lives.

"A meddling dragon," Hazel said thoughtfully. "This should be interesting."

"Interesting is becoming the theme of our relationship," Bullseye observed.

"Our relationship?" Hazel's eyebrows rose. "Is that what this is?"

Bullseye felt heat rise in his cheeks. "I mean... that is, if you want it to be... I didn't mean to presume..."

"Bullseye." Hazel's voice was gentle. "Relax. I was teasing." She reached over and took his hand. "For the record, I like the sound of 'our relationship.'"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She squeezed his fingers. "Though we should probably work on the whole 'getting to know each other' part. You know, basic information like favorite foods, worst fears, whether you squeeze the toothpaste tube from the middle or the end."

"Middle," he said immediately. "And favorite food is whatever I can eat with one hand while driving. Worst fear..." He paused, considering. "Used to be getting caught by federal agents. Now it's something happening to you."

The admission hung in the air between them, raw and honest.

"My worst fear," Hazel said softly, "is going back to the life I had before this morning. Going back to being small and safe and ordinary."

"Trust me," Bullseye said, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, "ordinary is the last word anyone would use to describe you."

The GPS chimed, announcing they were approaching their destination. Ahead of them, a small oasis appeared in the desert—a cluster of buildings surrounded by impossibly green trees and what looked like a genuine spring-fed pond.

"That's either a mirage," Hazel said, "or the most beautiful thing I've seen all day."

"Second most beautiful," Bullseye corrected, and was rewarded by her brilliant smile.

"Third most beautiful," Hopper corrected. "Have you seen my new purple coloring? I'm practically iridescent."

As they pulled into the circular driveway, a woman emerged from the main building. She was tall, elegant, and had the kind of silver hair that suggested great age combined with great wisdom. When she smiled, her teeth gleamed with just a hint of the dragon fire that lived within her.

"Welcome to Scales and Tails Inn," she called out in a voice like warm honey. "I'm Bertha, and I've been expecting you."

She approached the Trans Am with obvious curiosity, her ancient eyes taking in the way Hazel and Bullseye were sitting close together despite having plenty of room in the car, their hands still intertwined.

"My, my," she said with a knowing smile that suggested she'd seen this particular brand of magic before. "Young love and old spells. What a delicious combination."