Jewel
It’s him again.
The emerald-green dragon with the golden eyes, an easy smile, and the ridiculous taste in gifts that makes my inner romantic swoon. He’s been in every day for a week straight.
He strolls up to my counter, a box tucked under his arm, all his attention focused on me. The line buzzes as he cuts in front, but he seems utterly unbothered, like he doesn’t have a goal in life except getting his gift wrapped.
I straighten, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Back so soon?”
He grins, leaning a little closer to the counter. “Can’t stay away. You’re too good at your job.”
Flattery. Dangerous. Especially from someone who looks like he could’ve stepped out of aVoguefashion editorial. They’re really into horns lately. I even saw a gold-plated headband with horns in the holiday issue.
I should make him go to the back of the line. But I don’t.
Instead, I gesture to the box. “What’ve you got for me today?”
He sets it down, and my breath catches. It’s my favorite thing in the store, the piece I’ve been eyeing for weeks—an emerald pendant set in delicate yellow gold. My birthstone and just my style. The kind of thing I’d never buy for myself, not with my budget and a family Christmas list as long as my arm.
“This is beautiful,” I say, running a finger along the edge of the box. “You have great taste.”
He brightens like I’ve handed him a star. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. Who’s the lucky recipient?” I try to sound casual. Maybe it’s for his mom. Or a sister. Or—my stomach twists—a girlfriend.
“My future wife,” he says.
Oh.Of course. Of course.
“Well, your fiancée is a lucky girl,” I manage, focusing on cutting the paper so my hands won’t shake. He’s just a customer. Treat him like one.
He chuckles, the sound warm and rich, like melted chocolate. I’d like to take a bath in it. “I don’t have a fiancée.”
I blink up at him, confused. “You don’t? But you just said—”
“Nope.” He tilts his head, his horns catching the light in a way that makes them look like polished wood. “I just like picking things out for her. You know, for when we finally meet.”
I freeze, scissors halfway through the ribbon. “Wait, you mean—”
“My future wife,” he says again, his tone completely casual compared to how wild that sounds.
I stare at him, utterly baffled. “You’re buying gifts for someone you don’t even know?”
“Why not?” He shrugs, his tail flicking behind him. He narrows his golden gaze. “Why? Is it too much? Do you think she won’t like it?”
“She’ll love it. And if she doesn’t, she’s an idiot.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I’m mortified. Customers don’t care what I think. That’s the kind of comment that could cost me my job. “Plus, Hoardstrom’s has a great return policy if she wants a different stone,” I rush to add, trying to sound more professional.
But the dragon just smiles, flashing a row of sharp, shiny teeth that look like expensive icicles. “I don’t think I’ll be returning it.”
My stomach does a weird little flip. Some might think what he’s doing is strange, but I think it’s sweet. And romantic. And kind of ridiculous.
“I hope you find her soon,” I say, finishing the ribbon with a flourish.
“I hope so, too.”
The intensity in the way he says it makes my cheeks warm. When I glance up, he’s watching me, his golden eyes impossibly bright, almost glowing. My chest tightens. For a second, the noise of the store fades, leaving just the two of us, caught in this strange, sparkling moment.
“Excuse me!” the customer behind him says impatiently, and the spell breaks.
