Page 7 of The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas
“Thank you, Mother,” he whispered as he stared at the tray of cookies.
Jack glanced up at Carrie, his elderly iguana familiar. They had shelves built in every room she liked to be in. She always watched over the family.
The fact that Jack had taken his mother’s familiar as his was unusual but not unheard of. He was concerned that Carrie was too old to be his familiar. But it had felt right to Jack.
And when he told Grady, Grady had just nodded and said, “Mother would have liked that.”
“Do you think she’d approve?” Jack asked Carrie. “It’s mother’s recipe, after all.”
Carrie opened her beady eyes. Her green neck stretched forward and she peered down at him.
Jack felt a surge of approval through the witch-familiar bond.
Jack smiled. “Thank you.”
Carrie shuffled back, closed her eyes, and returned to sleep. Jack placed the tray in the oven.
“Jack, can you help serve?” Lacy asked in a strange sing-song voice.
Frowning, Jack wiped his hands on his apron as he came out front. Lacy knelt behind the counter, jiggling a drawer handle. She seemed to be having trouble opening it. “Sorry, Jack. I’ve just got to fix this thing.” Lacy did not meet his gaze.
“All right.” Slightly confused, Jack turned to the one customer in the bakery. He paused.
Avery stood before him. Jack had thought he might have imagined how gloriously beautiful Avery was.
He hadn’t.
“Thanks, Jack,” Lacy said.
“No problem.” Jack flashed her a tight smile. He should have known his protests wouldn’t put her off. She was a scheming little witch. “Nice to see you again, Avery. How can I help you?”
“I’d like a vanilla crescent cookie, please,” Avery said in his proper, clipped accent.
The bell jingled, and another customer came into the bakery. Lacy jumped up to serve. Apparently, she’d managed to fix the drawer. Jack glanced at her. She smiled brightly back at him and turned to the customer.
“Of course,” Jack said to Avery. “How many would you like?”
“Just the one.” Avery smiled shyly.
Avery really was lovely to look at. “Did you want to eat it here?”
Avery gave a small nod. “Yes, please.”
“Anything to drink?”
Avery shook his head, his curls bouncing. What would Avery’s hair feel like to touch? Would the curls feel as soft as they looked? Would they slide through Jack’s fingers like silk?
“All right.” Jack pulled out a plate and placed the cookie on it. He slid it towards the man.
As Avery reached out, his finger brushed Jack’s. A shot of sensation burst along his skin. Jack startled. He stared at their fingers, still touching.
Avery’s slender hand with long, elegant fingers contrasted with Jack’s big bulky hands, thick clumsy fingers, and stubby nails. Burn scars marked Jack’s hands and forearms from all the times he’d been rushed or careless with the oven.
Jack snatched his hand back. His skin prickled with embarrassment.
Once again, Avery didn’t take the cookie to a table. He lifted it to his mouth and took a bite. He moaned, thick coppery eyelashes fluttering shut against pale cheeks.
Avery groaned as he chewed. The sound went straight to Jack’s gut. Jack swallowed as his gaze slid along the man’s neck. Jack looked away and cleared his throat, trying to ignore the arousal that stirred inside him.
