There’s Something About Dragons (How I Met My Monster)

Chapter 9

Cari

Z ed’s late. I reached down to pet Radar, who’s antsy to leave the clinic and head home. He doesn’t know we are going out, but he’s going to be so excited once we get there. It’ll be worth these extra fifteen minutes on the hard waiting-room chairs.

Cynthia gives me a sympathetic look from her desk. “His loss, honey,” she says.

“He’ll be here.” I hope.

I realized after he left last night that I hadn’t given him my clinic address. But it can’t be that hard to find me now that he knows I’m a vet and live in San Drogo. I might have changed my last name, but there are only a handful of vet clinics in town and only one with a vet named Cari.

I still can’t believe we ran into each other like that. How lucky!

“Ope, I think you have a visitor,” Cynthia says in her adorable Midwestern accent. Bells jingle on the door, and when Zed strolls in, her eyebrows shoot up. Maybe I forgot to mention that he’s a dragon.

He’s even more handsome in the daylight. His long hair is swept back into a loose man-bun between his polished horns, giving him an air of a swashbuckling fantasy hero. Broad shoulders test the limits of his pullover, its navy-blue hue setting off his gorgeous red scales. Neat khakis that show off his muscular thighs complete the look.

He looks confident. He looks like an adult. He looks like he tried . He definitely dressed for the date.

I’m so, so glad that I changed out of my work clothes into my favorite red dress. I bought it a few years ago because the color reminded me of Zed, actually, and it’s the one item of clothing I put on when I want to feel sexy and confident. I put on a quick swipe of lipstick and a strappy pair of sandals, but I wish I’d had time to do my hair.

I stand to greet him, and his eyes rake me up and down before landing on my face. “Cari,” he breathes. “You look stunning.”

Cynthia sighs dreamily behind her desk, and I feel myself flush. “Thank you, so do you.”

He grins crookedly at the compliment. “I made reservations at a place that isn’t far. You don’t mind walking in those heels?”

I shake my head. “Radar would love to stretch his legs after a long day at work, anyway. What is that, hair gel?” I squint at a shiny droplet on the lobe of his elegantly pointed ear. It must be styling product left from his pre-date routine.

I swipe it off his ear with two fingers and comb it through my curtain bangs to keep them out of my face. It’s scented like cinnamon and cardamom, spicy and sweet. Men’s grooming supplies always have such yummy fragrance. “Mmm, this smells great!”

Zed looks like he swallowed a fly as he watches me style my hair. He leans forward, bending so he can draw a deep breath. He hovers inches away, running his snout along my shoulder and neck to my hairline. His proximity raises goosebumps on my skin.

He must be affected by the closeness, too because his voice is thick as he says, “It smells great on you .”

Cynthia sighs again, and then pipes up, “You better run along, you two, if you’re trying to make your reservation on time. Don’t want to spend your date in a waiting room, do you?”

“I think I’ve spent enough time waiting for this date,” Zed agrees, winking at me. I loop my arm through his, and we head out. As we walk, I’m hyper-conscious of how close he is to me, his body heat radiating through his clothes. At this point, I don’t even care about having dinner. I just want to take him home and make up for lost time.

But we have things to talk about. A lot of things. And I’m not sure I can take it if we connect and then he bails on me when he finds his mate.

When we reach the sidewalk, Radar tugs the end of the leash in the direction of the park, but Zed leads us east toward San Drogo’s cute little downtown district. When Radar realizes we’re taking a different route than usual, he hugs close to my ankle, using my movements as a guide.

“I’m glad you showed up,” I say, squeezing Zed’s forearm. It flexes under my fingers like a dog begging for more pets. “When you were late, I realized I didn’t tell you where I worked. I hope it wasn’t too hard to find me.”

“Sorry about that. I lost track of time in the shower.” He sounds embarrassed.

There’s an awkward pause as the thought of him with water cascading over his naked body momentarily distracts me. I fumble for words. “Um. Yeah. Uh. Don’t worry about it. Glad you’re…um…clean. Glad for you, I mean. I don’t mind if you’re dirty. You can be dirty all you want. Oh no, that sounded different coming out of my mouth than it did in my head.”

I want to lift up the sidewalk and crawl underneath it, but Zed just laughs, tugging me into his side. “I’ll be as dirty as you want me to be,” he growls playfully, making my heart and my pussy flutter in unison.

This is really happening. Zed’s here and he’s single and he’s flirting with me . Who cares how it ends if I can enjoy it while it lasts, right?

He nods to a restaurant up ahead. Light and music spill from the windows onto the patio in front, where tables are set up under glowing string lights. “That’s our spot. I thought Radar would like to be outside. Their website said they’ll even bring a special meal out for dogs. Have you eaten there before?”

I nod, warmed that he thought so much about Radar’s comfort. “Cynthia’s granddaughter had her sixth birthday there. It was really cute. They have great burgers.”

“Blue cheese and bacon, pickles on the side, right?” He grins at my open-mouthed expression. “You thought I’d forget your usual order?”

“It’s been fifteen years!”

“And no time at all,” he says solemnly, turning to face me. “Listen, Cari. I wrote you a letter, but I might as well say it out loud. I’ve been kicking myself—”

Before I can find out why, we’re interrupted by the cheery host. “Table for two for Glisson? Aw, and we have a little buddy. Hi, little buddy,” he says to Radar. “I’ll bring him out a bowl once we get you three settled, how does that sound?”

Zed nods and doesn’t finish his thought. Our table is awesome, right by the outdoor fireplace. Even though it’s not a chilly night, it’s still extra cozy to have the flames licking nearby. Radar settles under the table by my feet, and the host brings us all water.

“Meatlovers’ Celebration Package, right?” he asks, winking. Zed nods, and the host adds, “I’ll get that started for you, then.”

The host vanishes again, and we share an awkward silence until I motion to the fire. “This is nice. Reminds me a little of the hive on feast nights. Do they still have those?”

“Yep. Same as always.” He leans forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Not much has changed in Apple Grove. I live in the same place. Still have the same friends. Doing the same old stuff, hanging out in the woods and messing around on computers.”

I grin, matching his posture. “I bet things have changed more than you realize.”

“Only thing different is you’re not there. I’ve missed you, Cari.”

My heart skips a beat. “I missed you, too. I’ve spent a lot of time wishing I could talk to you.”

His brow ridges raise. “Really? Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

I frown. I don’t remember getting anything from him. Not a single one. It broke my heart, even though I understood why he never contacted me. “What letters?”

“I wrote a bunch in the hospital, but they didn’t let me send them because of the lawsuit.”

I wince, remembering the hostile legal battle between my dad and the hive. A lot of angry words were traded and legal fees were paid before they reached a settlement. “No wonder I didn’t get them.”

Now it’s Zed’s turn to frown. “I sent them later in one big batch after the protection order expired. It was a whole box.” He draws a shoebox size in the air. “You didn’t get it?”

I shake my head. “We moved a few times, and then I went to college. Maybe they got lost. I wish I’d known. I would have written to you.”

A few beats pass. “Why didn’t you?”

I look down at the wooden tabletop, its warm, battered surface a welcome distraction. “I sent you a card at the hospital, but it was returned.” I remember the day I got the card back, the word “REFUSED” scrawled across the hospital’s address. How my heart sank. “When my dad saw it, he told me about the protection order. By the time it expired a year later, I was…distracted.”

“Dating,” Zed says, with gentle understanding.

I nod, trying to stop my memories from slipping back to the guy I was with at the time. A bright-orange dragon from Boston, he came to Oregon to play beastball. I was working overtime as a cleaner to save up for college, but I did everything to make our busy schedules align. Pulled double shifts so we’d have the same days off. Watched his practices. Traveled to games. But one day in May, at a beastball match in Seattle, he scented his mate in the crowd, and it was like I ceased to exist.

“Sort of. I was going through a bad breakup. I spent the summer crying and building up @SeeRadarRun enough that I could afford tuition. School and content creation kept me busy for the next few years. But I always thought of you.”

The host reappears tableside, with a platter in one hand and a ridiculous, pig-shaped hat in the other. “Ladiessss first!” he announces, plopping the pig on top of my head and sliding the platter onto the table in front of me. It’s completely filled by two gigantic sausages. He fishes a stopwatch from the pocket on his apron. “On your mark, get set—”

“Wait, wait,” I say, giggling and waving my hands for him to stop. “What are we doing here?”

“The Sausage Showdown!” he says cheerily. “You have thirty seconds to Eat! That! Meat! Ready, set, go!” He clicks the stopwatch, and I stare across the table at Zed, a little bewildered.

“Did you plan this?”

He shrugs, looking as confused as I feel. I shrug back. I guess we’re doing it. I push up the sleeves of my dress and grab one of the sausages, stretching my mouth around the end. It barely fits.

Before my first bite, I’m not sure I can handle it. But the sausage turns out to have a great snap, and inside it’s salty, chewy, and delicious. This won’t be bad at all. The second and third bites go down just as easily.

“Go, piggy piggy, go piggy piggy, go!” shouts the host enthusiastically, watching seconds tick by on the watch. “Fifteen, fourteen…”

Diners at the other tables turn toward me to watch the spectacle as I double my efforts, cramming as much of the sausage into my mouth as I can with each bite. The attention feels awesome and helps me power through the last ten seconds. By the time the stopwatch alarm sounds, I’ve eaten over fifty percent of the enormous thing. I finish with grease dripping down my chin and the end of the sausage clutched in both hands.

The people around us cheer. I raise my half-eaten meat in triumph, feeling like the queen of a barbarian horde…until I remember this is supposed to be a romantic date, and here I gobbled half my weight in sausage and have grease up to my elbows.

I glance across the table, cringing. Zed slow-claps, his grin wide and admiring. “Impressive,” he says, and it sounds like he means it.

“I just…really like meat,” I explain sheepishly.

“That’s what she said,” quips the host. He plucks the pig hat from my head and pauses momentarily before shrugging and hanging it on one of Zed’s horns. He looks pretty ridiculous with it dangling there. It makes me smile that he’s such a good sport.

“Your turn, big boy,” the host says, resetting the clock and passing the platter to Zed. “Let’s see who can gobble that hog down the fastest. Are you ready to Eat! That! Meat?”

“Listen, we don’t need to compete,” Zed says quickly. “Cari gets the crown for sure.”

“You booked the celebration package, sir,” the host reminds him. He clicks the button. “Go piggy piggy, go piggy piggy, go!”

“You call him ‘piggy piggy’, too?” I pretend-pout to the host. “I thought you and I had something special.”

Zed gasps dramatically. Then he grabs the sausage, tosses it into the air, tips his head back, and swallows it in one gulp. My jaw practically hits the floor.

He shrugs sheepishly at my expression. “Dragon advantage. I really like meat, too.”