Chapter 3 #2
We drifted to the food court, where the smells of fried dough and kettle corn drifted through the air. Krystal pointed out a funnel cake stand. "I haven’t had one of these in forever."
"We should fix that," I said, and immediately got in line to buy us one. A few minutes later, we sat on the low bleachers by the music stage, sharing bites. The powdered sugar got everywhere, and she licked it off her thumb with a look that made my heart stutter. I tried to focus on the band, but I couldn’t stop watching her.
She caught me staring. "What?"
"Nothing," I said. "You’re just…"
She waited, eyes on mine, daring me to finish the sentence.
"Easy to be around," I said.
Her smile softened. "I’m not, though. Not really."
I thought of the hundred ways I could reassure her but settled on the truth. "You are with me."
She let that hang between us for a minute, then nodded at the band. "That’s a banjo, right? Or a ukulele?"
"It’s a banjo," I said. "But I can see how you’d mix them up."
She nudged me with her elbow. "Shut up. I grew up listening to pop music, not bluegrass."
I grinned. "I’ll forgive you. Barely."
We watched the band for a while, the sun dropping lower behind the trees. The crowd thickened, people clustering together for warmth as the temperature dipped with early autumn chill.
Krystal pulled her sweater tighter. "I should have brought a jacket."
I shrugged off my flannel and handed it to her. "Take mine."
She hesitated, then slid it on. It fit her like a blanket, the sleeves hanging past her hands.
"Are you always this prepared?" she asked.
"I’m cold-blooded," I deadpanned. "Literally."
She laughed, and finally began to relax. I liked that, making her comfortable, making her laugh.
We wandered the vendor stalls, Krystal pausing at a table of handmade soaps. She sniffed every one, wrinkling her nose at a pine-scented bar.
"I tried making soap once," she said. "It turned out like a brick of lard. My mother gave it to the neighbors anyway."
"Does your mother live in town?"
Krystal made a face like she sucked a lemon. "No. She still lives in Knoxville. We haven’t talked much since my son was born. She wasn’t thrilled when I ended up pregnant and dropped out of college."
I wanted to ask more about that, but I sensed her discomfort about the subject, so I dropped it. Instead, I asked about her son. "Tell me about your son?"
She studied me for a few moments, and I thought she wouldn’t answer. "He’s everything to me."
I nodded, letting her set the pace. "I love kids. They see the world so clearly."
She blinked, not expecting that. "You do?"
"Sure," I said. "They don’t care about the rules. Or the past. They just want you to be there, you know?"
She looked at me a long time, then said, "Most guys bolt when they hear ‘single mom.’"
I smiled. "I’m not most guys."
She snorted. "You’re definitely not."
We bought hot cider and wandered the pumpkin patch, the air getting colder and the sky darkening to a deep indigo.
I wanted to ask if she’d let me meet Bryce sometime, but I knew better than to rush things.
Instead, I listened as she talked about his latest obsession with dinosaurs, and the way he categorized them by carnivore or herbivore, never by color or size.
"Do you want kids?" she asked suddenly.
I thought about it. "Honestly? I never thought I’d have any because of the curse.
But since Ashton has found and bonded with his mate, the rest of the clan will find theirs as well.
Completing the mating bond breaks the curse.
So, yeah, with the right person, I’d love a house full of kids.
It's kind of a new sensation for me, the thought of being able to be a family man. I really like the idea."
She blushed, and I wanted to grab her and kiss her, right there in the middle of the pumpkin patch. But I waited.
We made our way back to the stage area. The bluegrass band switched to slower songs, couples drifting onto the makeshift dance floor.
I turned to her, my heart hammering. "Would you like to dance?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."
I led her to the edge of the crowd. The song was slow, something about mountains and lost love. At first, she kept a careful distance with her hands on my shoulders. But as the song wore on, she relaxed into me, her body fitting against mine in a way that felt inevitable.
I tried to keep my breathing steady, but my heart hammered against my ribs. My dragon thrashed, hungry and giddy, desperate to claim her but held back by the thin leash of my human restraint. Every time she brushed against me, it set off a cascade of sparks under my skin.
"You’re a good dancer," she said, looking up at me with a crooked smile.
"Comes with age," I said, grinning back.
"Don’t you mean practice?"
"Both," I admitted.
She laughed, her breath fanning my neck. I wanted to pull her closer, but I waited. She needed to feel safe, not cornered.
The song ended, but neither of us let go. Another slow tune started up, and I took the chance to draw her in a little. She didn’t pull away.
As the song ended, she pulled back enough to look up at me. The gold flecks in her eyes caught the light. I couldn’t help myself, I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering at her jaw.
"Can I kiss you?" I whispered.
She nodded, her lips already parted.
I leaned in and kissed her, gently at first, then with more hunger than I meant to show. She met me halfway, her hands curling into my shirt. The world spun out, and for a second, there was nothing but the heat of her mouth and the sharp, sweet taste of her breath.
My dragon went quiet, content for the first time in years. Decades.
When we broke apart, she looked dazed. "Wow," she said.
"Yeah," I agreed, just as stunned.
We stood there, caught in the aftermath. I didn’t want the night to end, but I didn’t want to push her either.
She smiled. "I should go. Bryce will be calling me before bedtime. Nathan took him camping with the other kids in the pack."
"Can I walk you to your car?"
She nodded, and we wandered back through the thinning crowd. Neither of us spoke, but it was a comfortable silence.
At her car, I opened the door for her. She got in, then rolled down the window. "I’ll see you Sunday?"
"I’ll be there," I promised. "You’re working the day shift, right?"
She nodded. "I get off at five."
"I’ll see you then," I said.
She smiled, a real one this time, and started the engine. I watched her taillights fade, then stood there in the chilly air.
For the first time in my long, weird life, I felt something akin to hope. I wanted to see where this would go, even if it scared the shit out of me.
Sunday couldn’t come soon enough.