Page 22 of The Baby Dragon Bakery
“Sparky is such a good boy,” Lavinia said, petting him. “Aren’t you?” He cooed in response, pleased.
“What about you?” Saphira asked. “How’s school—and Biter! The picture you sent me yesterday was too cute!”
“She is adorable!” Lavinia replied. “I love having her around. And it’s good practical learning for school, as well. You know—I should be getting extra credit!”
After chatting for a few more minutes, Saphira and Sparky left, and Lavinia returned to her work. At the end of the day, when she checked her phone she saw that she had a new message from Calahan.
Excitement fizzed through her. She opened the message.
“What do you call a dog magician?” she read aloud to herself before responding with a few question marks. She watched her phone screen, waiting for a reply until a new message appeared:a labracadabrador.
Lavinia laughed out loud, then texted back:stop that was horrible!
His response was immediate:Noooo, i’ve been working on that all day, please tell me you at least giggled.
Only a little,she messaged back, smiling to herself.
The rest of the week passed with classes and interning and assignments and notes, and she found professor jokes to send Calahan, while he sent her veterinary jokes. She was setting the stage, planting the seeds, etc., though she did detest the mechanics of the modern dating scene.
Then, finally, it was Saturday, the day she would be at the Baby Dragon.
It was time to commence Operation Calahan.
Chapter 9
Lavinia got to the Baby Dragon, wearing the outfit that Theo had disapproved of, the one with the leather skirt. Because she had liked it, she had video-called Genevieve for a second opinion on Sunday night, and Genevieve had loved it, saying she looked like an absolute babe, so Lavinia had gone with it.
She didn’t understand why Theo had told her not to wear it.
It was almost as if he was trying to sabotage her chances—but why would he do that? She was being absurd.
She needed to stop being such a hopeless romantic. It was bad for her mental health. She needed to switch gears and be arealisticromantic. That would keep her heart protected. Yes, a realistic romantic sounded good. She would trademark that and make it a thing.
When Lavinia entered the cafe on Saturday morning, Calahan was nowhere to be seen; he must have been in the kitchen. She quickly took off her light jacket, setting it down with her purse under the counter, then started taking down the chairs from the tables. She was just finishing up a table when Calahan came out from the kitchen.
A little jitter shot through her. He was wearing a navy blue sweater with beige trousers, and when he saw her, his eyes widened behind his glasses. He stopped in his tracks, jaw slackening.
She gave him a wide smile. “Good morning.”
He blinked twice. “Morning,” he replied, voice awed.
That put a little pep in her step. She bounced around, taking down the rest of the chairs, and Calahan came over to help her. His gaze kept straying her way, which only made her excitement grow.
Calahan paid attention, and he was caring. The day at the cafe was busy, as usual, but throughout, Calahan kept making excuses to come over and ask if she needed help, or offer to take orders to the tables for her. Then he would chat with her for a bit at the counter.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she felt like dancing.
She always got like this in the beginning of a crush, when it was all exciting and hopeful. She mapped out the ways it could turn out perfectly. Sunday was Calahan’s day off, as well; maybe they could go to the farmers’ market together sometime! She could imagine it now, walking hand in hand through the stalls, sipping an autumnal drink and trying out various snacks.
They could go on study dates together at the library . . . or, oh, the ceramics store had just started a new date-night pottery class! That would be fun!
This would be the moment Theo would tell her to calm down and not get ahead of herself, but it was just so fun imagining things going well. It was the only thing that kept her going—hope.
Around midday, the rush gave way to a slow period, andLavinia yawned, feeling tired. She leaned against the counter, rolling her ankles to stretch them, the chunky platform loafers heavy on her feet. Calahan came out, his shoulder brushing against hers as he came to stand with her against the counter.
“Tired?” he asked. She nodded. “It always hits me around midday, too.”
“We need sugar,” Lavinia said, turning her gaze to the display case of bakery items they sourced from the Rolling Pin. She grabbed a butter pecan chocolate chip cookie, then split it in half.
