Chapter 3
Zaden
It was early afternoon when my phone alarm woke me, and my first thought was of Krystal. She’d been in my head since the moment I saw her last night. It was unsettling, but not at all unpleasant.
I stumbled downstairs, chasing the promise of coffee.
I’d only recently discovered that my decade-old espresso machine was dead, so I made do with the drip from the break room downstairs.
As soon as my mug was full I missed my damn lips and sloshed hot coffee over my bare chest. It didn't burn, but I was damn glad nobody was around to see what I'd done.
Perfect. I looked down at the mess and laughed. "Very impressive. Two hundred years of refinement and you can’t even operate a cup."
The caffeine did little to erase the memory of Krystal’s laugh. It buzzed in my ears, a stubborn afterimage.
My phone vibrated. I snatched it up, hoping for a text from her, but it was a calendar alert.
"8:00 am, Kenneth meeting." Right. The handoff. I’d been gone a decade, and the bar had survived. Kenneth deserved better than a perfunctory handoff, especially since he’d run the place better than anyone would have.
I went back upstairs, threw on jeans and the first shirt within reach, a faded Z’s Place tee with the sleeves ripped off, and headed back downstairs. Kenneth was already waiting in the office, hunched over a folder thick with papers and the haunted look of a man who’d read every single one.
"Hey, man," I said, letting the door bang shut behind me. "Did you sleep here?"
He didn’t look up. "Did you?"
"Go easy on me. I just woke up," I said, taking a sip of my coffee.
Kenneth slid the folder across the desk. "Quarterlies, projections, and the new wage structure. We’re above state minimum, so the city can’t say shit. Also, the liquor distributor called about a missing shipment from last fall. I already threatened to sue them."
"Beautiful," I said, flipping through the pages. "You should be running a hedge fund."
He snorted. "I like bars. Less bullshit."
I checked my phone again. Nothing from Krystal. I thumbed it off, trying to keep my face neutral.
Kenneth watched me over the rims of his glasses. "You hung over, or are you in love?"
"Neither," I lied. "Maybe the latter."
He shrugged. "You’re not the first Beck to get bit by the mate bug. You won’t be the last."
I ignored that and focused on the numbers. "You crushed it," I said. "I could die happy knowing Z’s Place is in your hands."
"I didn’t do it alone," Kenneth said, shrugging off the compliment. "Angel and Shay handled the bar floor."
I nodded. "Still, you kept it more than afloat. That’s not nothing."
He closed the folder, the air shifting from business to something heavier. "So. What’s the plan? You staying? Or is this a victory lap before you disappear again?" He knew how much I liked to travel.
He tried to keep his tone light, but there was an edge to it. Hibernation isn’t exactly a two-week vacation.
"I’m staying," I said, and meant it. "No more disappearing acts. Ashton found his mate, so the curse is lifted. I’m not going under again, maybe some light travel, but this will be home base."
Kenneth’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Good. The town needs you more than it admits."
The mate-bond flared in my chest, a dull ache. I wanted to text Krystal, to demand a response, but I had to do this right.
I reached under the desk and pulled out a thin, cream-colored envelope. "I’ve got something for you," I said, sliding it across the table.
Kenneth eyed it like a bomb. "What’s this?"
"Open it."
He did, brow creasing as he unfolded the check. "Zaden. This is… a lot."
"You earned it," I said, no hesitation. "That’s ten percent of the net profits for every year I was gone."
His jaw worked, but no sound came out. Wolves hate showing emotion in front of dragons, but after a minute, he couldn’t help it.
"Thank you," he said, finally. "No one’s ever…"
I cut him off, a bit uncomfortable. "If you want to keep running things, you can. I'd rather be sort of an extra presence who comes in and helps. If you want out, I’ll help you start your own place. You call the shots."
Kenneth folded the check carefully and tucked it in his shirt pocket. "I want to stay. If that’s all right."
"Of course," I said. "I’m not good with paperwork. Or with HR stuff, honestly. That’s your superpower."
He grinned, finally, and the temperature in the room rose a few degrees. Then he grew serious. "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"Is Ashton going to make trouble for me?"
The question hit me like a left hook. "Why would he?"
Kenneth shifted in his seat. "You know how the clans are. Wolves aren’t supposed to run dragon businesses. Or so the rumors go."
I rolled my eyes. "Ashton’s the alpha, but he’s not a tyrant. He trusts you and your pack, and he trusts me to make a good decision about who runs the business, or you’d be out on your ass already. Besides, he and Nathan have been friends for a long time."
That friendship was what kept the peace between our clan and the pack. He wasn't wrong, though. Wolf packs and dragon clans did often clash over territory.
Kenneth nodded but didn’t look convinced. "Just want to make sure."
"Consider it made," I said. "And besides, Ashton’s busy. He’s not thinking about Stock Creek, or the bar. He’s focused on his mate right now."
Kenneth absorbed that, satisfied.
The rest of the meeting was technical. Staffing, supplier contracts, the looming threat of a craft brewery opening three miles away. I tried to focus, but my attention drifted back to Krystal every five seconds. I wanted to know if she was awake. I wanted to know if she’d thought about me.
When we wrapped up, Kenneth stood and held out his hand. "I’ll let you know when the next shipment comes in."
I clapped him on the shoulder. "Go buy yourself a boat, or a motorcycle. Or whatever wolves do for fun."
He laughed, the tension finally broken. "Will do, boss. And thanks again."
After he left, I moved to the chair behind the desk and tried to focus on getting familiar with the accounting system Kenneth had started using while I was asleep. But my head buzzed with thoughts of Krystal. My dragon wanted to see her again.
After another ten minutes, I gave up on trying to work and texted her.
Morning Beautiful. Go with me to the Harvest Festival tonight.
The three dots appeared instantly, then vanished. Then:
Not a date, right?
I grinned at the screen.
Right. Not a date.
Good. See you at seven.
I had hours to kill. I could have napped, or fixed the espresso machine, or rearranged the entire liquor wall by proof instead of brand. But instead I sat there, letting the mate-bond simmer and spark in my bones, waiting for the night to come.
By the time I pulled into the hay-strewn parking lot of the Stock Creek Harvest Festival, my nerves were so fried I almost left the keys in the ignition.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so rattled over a woman.
Or anything, really. My dragon was used to being the biggest, most unflappable thing in a two-mile radius other than my dragon clanmates.
Today, he was a jittery bird, wings beating against my ribs every time I pictured Krystal.
We'd been reduced to a hummingbird by the mate bond.
I found her standing by the entrance arch, which someone had fashioned from bundled corn stalks and marigolds.
She looked like the harvest queen in jeans, boots, and a sweater fitted enough to make me imagine what was underneath.
She was typing on her phone, and I wondered who she was texting.
I was a few feet away from her when she lifted her head, spotted me and smiled.
I took a moment before closing the distance. I wanted to remember this, the way she stood, the way the October sun caught the gold in her hair, the way my feet actually felt light for once.
"Hey," I said, and it came out too soft, too shy. I tried again, louder. "Hey! You made it."
Krystal smiled, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I said I would, didn’t I?"
She looked around. "This place is a madhouse. I haven’t been to the festival since I was a kid. Nathan usually brings Bryce with Elle, his daughter. I've always been working."
"We used to sneak in after hours and mess with the apple bobbing tubs," I told her. "One year, I swapped out all the apples for onions. Ashton didn’t forgive me for a month."
Her eyes brightened with laughter. "The Beck alpha?"
"Big guy. Runs the vet clinic now."
She laughed. "I always thought you dragons just hibernated and hoarded gold."
"I’m partial to natural beauty," I said, and she laughed again, this time with less effort.
We wandered through the festival. Stock Creek did these events up big a few times a year.
There were three separate chili cookoffs, a bluegrass band on a plywood stage, and a petting zoo full of animals that, frankly, looked like they’d seen some things.
Every third person waved at Krystal, and she responded to each with a different version of "hey, good to see you. "
"You’re famous," I teased.
"In a town this size, everyone’s famous. Or infamous."
I couldn’t argue. I nodded to a few people and had to say, "Yeah, I'm back in town!" a few times myself. I bought us caramel apples, then challenged her to a ring toss, which she won. The prize was a stuffed bat with fangs and googly eyes.
"You’re a terrible liar," she said, accepting the prize anyway. "I saw you miss on purpose."
I shrugged. "I like making you smile."
That caught her off guard, but she didn’t look away. "You’re good at this."
"At what?"
"Dating. Or pretending to date. Or whatever this is."
How did she not feel the mating pull? That thought sent a spike of fear through me and my dragon. I wanted to reach out and hold her hand but didn’t dare. Not yet. Not until I figured out what was going on with her. "I’m just glad you showed up."