James opens his mouth and then closes it. “Never mind.”
We pass several cave-like stalls until we are in the nice and clean cavity Dad chose for Hort. I lead him in toward the silver banister he’s been chomping on. Though when I start to close the half door James stops me. “Wait.”
He abandons his trunk and steps into Hort’s enclosure, eyeing the space like an inspector would a crime scene.
“What are you looking for?”
James ignores me. Typical. “Hort. Stretch.”
With a whoosh, Hort spreads his wings to their maximum length and arches his head into full height—the stance of aggression. James circles. “It’s spacious.”
I don’t like how surprised he sounds. “You really thought we’d stick himin a small enclosure?” I grab a trout from a nearby pail and join James in front of Hort. “Free,” I call before throwing the fish into his mouth. Hort relaxes, happy with his treat.
“I had to make sure.”
Still. The disrespect, the implication we would let a dragon stay in an unhealthy environment—it’s enough to make my jaw ache.
When I usher him out and close the half door, James has another observation. “There’s no bars.”
Okay, so maybe I was wrong, and our barn is nothing like the Murphy facilities. “You mean… like cages?” I don’t mean to be appalled, but appalled I am. “Why do you need cages?”
“Because they are dragons,” James says slowly.
“Well, we don’t do that.” I don’t want to hear why James thinks cages are a necessity, so I change the subject. “The loft is at the far end of the barn.”
I head toward iron-slabbed stairs, James’s footsteps and the squeaky hinge of his trunk the only indication he’s following me. I’m being kind of mean not helping James with his luggage. Even if I hate him, the guy has a broken arm. I twist around to begrudgingly offer my assistance and… trip. I’m staggering forward, trying to catch myself when an arm slides around my middle and stops me from face-planting.
I breathe, trying to figure out what’s happened. Murphy has saved me. Or, well, let me not fall. I wasn’t about to die or anything. But more importantly, he’s pressed against me. I can feel his cast across my stomach, his voice right at my ear when he asks, “You okay?”
I glance from his shoulder to his eyes. And for some reason, this up close he isn’t angry or annoyed. This time thatyou okaylooks and sounds genuine.
When he lets go a second later, I stumble away and up the first few stairs. Distance needed. “Yeah, thanks. The glasses aren’t for show,” I give as an excuse.
“Right.” He clears his throat. “Glad it wasn’t intentional.”
“Why would anyone trip intentionally?”
“For an excuse to get close to me,” James explains.
Anger pounds at the accusation. “I thought you understood I hate you?” That’s the second time I’ve announced that truth and I’m not even ashamed of my answer. Anyone else and I’d feel awful, guilt-crawling-through-my-skin kind of bad. With Murphy, though, there is no need to be civil. I’m freely myself, blunt rudeness and all.
He shrugs. “Some people flirt weirdly.”
I hate how confident he is, how utterly arrogant down to the bone. With four words, he’s insinuating I’m harboring a crush and I’m doing it weirdly. Fake tripping or swooning into his arms weirdly. But the only weird thing is the fact that I’ve never had a crush, on anyone. I’d rather die than admit that to him though.
But then… is this flirting? Because in some bizarre way, it kind of feels like it.
No. Definitely not.
However, as my face grows red and I grow flustered at the thought, an idea forms. I could get Murphy out of my sanctuary in no time. If there is only one big rule he must follow, what if I made him break it? As we climb the stairs, I gather up my courage. “We could end this, you know?”
“End this?”
“You could train under any other vet in town. You don’t want to be way out here. And I don’t want you here.”
“Oh, so you already have a plan to get rid of me?” We’re right in the middle of the stairs, suspended halfway between floors as James leans on the railing. “That was quick.”
I take a step down, closer to him. “It would be easy.”
