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“Thank you. I don’t know what to say.” I ran my hand along one of the cedar planks, wondering if Bran’s skin was as smooth as it looked. Yanking my thoughts away from what felt like dangerous territory, I added, “This was so much work—”
“Not really. Everything was ready to assemble, and I’m good with my hands.”
“I bet you are,” I murmured.
“What did you say?” He gave me a long look and I blushed and turned my head.
“Nothing…just that…” I backtracked. “Yes, you are good with your hands. This is lovely craftsmanship.” I paused, glancing back at the car. “I’m sorry, I need to get the groceries—”
“I’ll do it. You go in and talk to my mother.” He picked up his shirt and slid it over his head.
I looked away, confused. It had been so long since I had last noticed any man other than Rian in any way remotely sexual that the feelings took me by surprise. Flustered and not sure what to think, I thanked him again and headed inside.
May was waiting in the kitchen.
“Your son is a genius with wood. Did you see the garden beds he built for my herb garden?”
She nodded. “I did. He loves to help out when he can. I raised him to believe in the good of helping others, as long as they don’t take advantage of you.”
“Well, I’m more than willing to pay for his time,” I said. “I could never have constructed anything that nice.” I looked around. “Is it—he—still asleep?”
At that moment, in answer to my question, the dragonette flew out, as graceful as could be, and landed on my shoulder. I tried not to jump at his touch but a tingle of excitement raced through me. I found myself happy to see him, in fact—I was relieved to see him.
“Well, I guess that answers that,” I said.
“You’re back.” In perfect English, with a faint British accent, the dragonette went on to add, “I presume you have a name for me?”
I blinked. The formality of the question startled me, as well as the perfect English. “You want me to name younow?”
“I’d appreciate it if you did,” he said, sounding oddly like Giles French, an English butler—a character I remembered from a show I watched in re-runs when I was a little girl. He snorted and tiny puffs of steam—or was it smoke?—came out of his nostrils.
I glanced at May. “Well, then…” I tried to think but the sight of the smoke captivated me. I shook my head. “Don’t torch anything, please.”
“I’m not going to burn your house down!” The dragonette’s eyes swirled, and he fluttered his wings. “I may be freshly hatched but I’m capable of controlling the sparks.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. So this was the way things were going to be. Of course, I’d end up with a snarky one. “Was Melda like this?”
May laughed. “No, though she was spunky.”
“Not sowhat, might I ask?” The dragonette cleared his throat, sounding offended.
“Don’t get bent,” I said, laughing. “Well, Fancypants, you have a name now.”
The dragonette stared at me. “You’re naming meFancypants?”
“Yeah, I am. And trust me, it fits.” I stuck my tongue out at the dragonette.
He rolled his eyes, puffing smoke in my face. “I guess that will do.”
“Heaven help the both of you,” May said, snickering. She wiped her eyes. “The pair of you belong together. I can’t wait to see how this all plays out.”
“I’m hungry,” Fancypants said. “You’re my person.Feed me.”
“Geez, entitled much?” I stared at him. How the hell was this going to work out?
At that moment, Bran came in, carrying four of the grocery bags. “Two left, I’ll get them now.” He started at the dragonette. “Did you find a name yet?”
May snorted. “Yes, yes she did.”
