Page 8 of The Baby Dragon Bakery
But life wasn’t a romance movie. The sooner she accepted that, the better.
She was at the Baby Dragon Cafe today, where she had worked since it opened almost two years ago. Because of her vet studies, she only worked here once a week now, on Saturdays. It was a good day to come in because the cafe was so busy. Lots of people came in and out: teenage couples on first dates, young parents with their little kids, and old women who sat knitting together. Lavinia loved seeing and chatting to all the different customers, especially when they brought in their baby dragons—red, blue, white, or black.
The cafe had high ceilings, with big, open windows, from which Lavinia could watch people walking down Main Street. There was a large fireplace surrounded with bookshelves and lounge chairs. Vases of flowers and candles decorated each of the tables, which were surrounded by wooden farm chairs. There were also some Mughal touches in the artwork hanging on the walls, a nod to Saphira’s heritage, which Lavinia shared as well on her mother’s side.
Lavinia was at the counter now, tending to the drink orders, while other staff handled the kitchen and the garden out back. She finished up the order, then went to drop it off at a table by the stone wall, where a middle-aged woman was sitting reading a book. A blue-scaled azura dragon was nestled comfortably in a bed by its owner’s feet, its paws playing with the fringe at the end of the woman’s skirt.
“Here’s that flat white for you and some karela juice for your dragon,” Lavinia said, placing the coffee on the table and the steel bowl by the dragon on the floor. The azura sniffed the air and immediately lit up, leaving the fringe to happily lick up the green juice from the bowl. Warmth spread through Lavinia’s chest, and she petted the baby dragon’s scaled head.
“Thank you!” The woman smiled, and Lavinia returned the gesture, her smile remaining as she returned to the counter. The Baby Dragon Cafe was one of Lavinia’s favorite places in the world. She had seen this place come to life, and it was all thanks to Saphira’s hard work.
She thought of the little garneta baby dragon waiting for her at home. Her mother was watching the dragon for her best friend Famke, who had hatched her dragon egg in June, only to be involved in a severe car accident in July. Her leg had been broken in two places and would take five months to heal, so Beena had offered to take care of her baby dragon, Biter, while Famke recovered.
When Lavinia had a spare moment in the afternoon, she made herself a hot butter pecan latte in a to-go cup, which was easy to carry around. The cup was decorated with the cafe’s logo: a mug with dragon wings. She loved the cafe’s fall menu and all the fall flavors. With her coffee, she snagged a meethi tikki from the display shelves, the fried cookie sweet and crisp. Theo had made them, and while they weren’t a fusion recipe, they were perfect as is.
He brought in fusion recipes for the cafe twice a week, and they were always scrumptious. While Theo had baked the cookies, he had originally learned the recipe from Lavinia’s mother, Beena.
Theo and Lavinia had grown up eating these cookies, and the taste was comforting and homey. Which didn’t exactly help with the whole Theo Situation that Lavinia was currently grappling with. With a pout, she put her cookie aside, just as a customer came up to the counter.
“I need coffee stat,” Genevieve said, collapsing onto a barstool. She rested her head on her arms; her ink-black hair was tied up in a simple twist, revealing all the features on her makeup-free face as she yawned. “I just woke up.”
Lavinia laughed, happy to see her friend. “It’s two in the afternoon.”
“What about it? Grandad was the last one off the dance floor, and I was his dance partner.”
“Your grandad seriously has more energy than any old man I know,” Lavinia replied as she pulled an espresso shot for a latte. Genevieve wasn’t picky with her coffee order, and Lavinia knew what she liked.
“And way more than any old man rightly should,” Genevieve added, taking the latte as Lavinia slid it her way. She took a sip, humming to herself. “Yum. What is it?”
“A spiced turmeric latte with an extra shot,” she replied. “Should wake you up.”
“Mm, it is.”
She sat up straight, sliding her tote bag off her shoulder. It was black leather, which went with her outfit of black trousers and a maroon sweater. Her style was simple and the opposite of fussy, though clearly expensive. Lavinia was impressed with how put-together Genevieve was, despite their late night, but then again, Lavinia had never seen Genevieve frazzled, the way Lavinia herself often was.
Genevieve grabbed a notebook out of her tote bag, setting it on the table next to her latte. Her expression soured. “I have to study,” she lamented. She was in her final year of university studying Dragon History.
While she didn’t yet have a dragon of her own, she would receive a basalta egg to hatch when she turned twenty-one in December. Members of Drakkon families—those who owned and rode dragons—could hatch their dragon eggs at any age, but knowing Genevieve, she would hatch hers on her twenty-first birthday, the very earliest she was allowed to. She had been waiting to have a dragon of her own ever since she was a teenager.
Lavinia was happy her friend’s time would soon come. Lavinia loved dragons the way she loved all animals, which was what made veterinary school so fulfilling, though the coursework was no easy undertaking.
“Ugh,” Lavinia sighed. She did not want to think about the studying she needed to do, nor the homework that would be waiting for her when she returned home after work tonight.
“Ohmygod,” Genevieve asked, suddenly remembering something. She set her notebook aside. “Did you see Oliver’s girlfriend last night?”
Lavinia gasped. “Ollie has a girlfriend? Since when?” she asked, referencing Genevieve’s cousin, who was in his mid-twenties but looked like a teenager and was hilariously ridiculous.
Genevieve started telling Lavinia all about it, and they soon became busy discussing last night, how wonderful it had been. A little while later, Lavinia’s coworker Calahan Goode poppedover. He was tall and well-built, with dark skin and short hair in tight curls. He was good-looking—more than once, Lavinia had seen customers of the cafe checking him out, which didn’t surprise her in the least. In addition to being handsome, he was kind.
Case in point: he slid a plate in front of Lavinia. On it was a sandwich. “Sorry to interrupt, ladies,” he said, eyes warm. “I just noticed you hadn’t eaten anything, Lav, so wanted to give you this.”
“Gosh, I didn’t even realize,” she replied, holding a hand over her heart. “Thanks, Cal, you’re a lifesaver.”
He gave her an easy smile, then disappeared back into the kitchen. Once he was gone, Genevieve started giggling.
Lavinia gave her a stern look. “Come on.” Genevieve had this theory that Calahan had a crush on Lavinia, but Lavinia had never noticed anything of the sort. “He’s justnice!”
“Since when are men justnice?”
