Page 16 of Dream Weaver

Which was pretty much ourmodus operandianyway.

“I meant, how was your day at work?” Erin asked.

Oh, that. Not half as bad as I’d expected, frankly.

I twirled a forkful of spaghetti, considering why that might be.

It was only us four homebodies in the main house for dinner — Claire, Erin, her partner Nash, and me. Pippa and her partner, Ingo, were visiting her father in Colorado.

I briefed Erin and Nash on the fire ax contract and the assistant I’d been stuck with.

A very tall, fairly quiet assistant whose green-and-gray flannel shirt — a variation on the red one he’d worn the day I met him — brought out the color of his soft brown eyes.

A flannel shirt I could use as a blanket, it was that big.

Hewas that big. Not in sheer height, maybe, but layer upon layer of muscle — a detail I couldn’t help noticing, especially once he stripped down to a T-shirt — extra-large but still snug in the chest and biceps. The back, twice the breadth of mine, was decorated with two crossed axes and the words,Pine Ridge Hotshots, Wyoming.

“All day?” Erin stared. “He just watched? How annoying.”

Only for the first half hour, actually. After that, I stopped noticing. The annoying part, at least. It was hard not to notice the rest of him.

All in all, he wasn’t terrible company. No boasting about firefighting prowess, no unsolicited advice on how to do my job better. Even when I’d tried to get rid of him, he’d remained even-tempered. It was a little like having Roscoe by my feet when I got some downtime in the evenings. There yet unobtrusive. Undemanding. Comforting, almost.

“He was nice,” Claire said. “He’s a firefighter, and he has lots of cousins.”

Clearly, she found those two facts impressive. But I found his demeanor with Claire impressive. Obviously, the guy was a doting uncle…or was he an absentee father?

I went back to resenting him, just in case.

“Why don’t I have any cousins, Mommy?” Claire asked.

I pointed my fork at Erin, then Nash. “Ask them.”

Nash choked on his spaghetti. Erin patted his back. “Well, um… Maybe you’ll get some someday.”

“Soon?” Claire persisted.

Nash gave Erin a tiny, suggestive waggle of the eyebrows.

“We’ll see,” she said, touching his arm playfully.

A year ago, I would have rolled my eyes at those lovebirds. But Nash had grown on me, and I’d never seen Erin so happy. It was easy to picture them having a gang of adorable, noisy children who would grow up to be responsible dragon shifters like their parents. Erin would be an amazing mom and a fantastic role model. Nash would make a great dad, all patient, quiet, and indulging.

Patient. Quiet. Indulging. Now, that seemed familiar.

I caught my thoughts straying in a dangerous direction.

“Seconds, anyone?” I stood quickly.

* * *

After dinner, Erin volunteered to read Claire a story, freeing me for a short walk.

“I’ll be back soon,” I murmured, holding the door long enough for Roscoe to follow. Outside, Calvin, Hobbes, and our other outdoor dogs joined us.

Stars and a half-moon lit the path to the paddock, where I paused to check our newest horses. Domino, a sway-backed pinto, nickered in greeting.

“Are you settling in okay?” I whispered, petting him.

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