Knead for Speed (Tales from the Dragon Diner #2)

Chapter 1

“Thanks to the increased patronage since you won the Golden Whisk, and the lack of recent fires, graffiti, or other vandalism, the Dragon Diner is now profiting almost fifty gold a week,” former mercenary archer and current bookkeeper, Rylana Avandar, said.

She sat on a stool in the back of the kitchen while the dragon chef Jildarin-grozanarav of Clan Killcrusher—her new business partner—stirred sautéed onions and pieces of bacon into a scintillating soup.

It wafted delectable aromas of thyme, elfmoss, and his secret dragon spices into the air, and her mouth watered, making it a challenge to focus on work.

“According to my projections,” Rylana added, holding up her column-filled ledger, “and accounting for seasonable variability in visitation, the Dragon Diner could profit more than fifteen hundred gold by the end of the year.”

“You will now inform me that the staff should receive raises?” Jildarin turned his emerald eyes toward her, his expression knowing. For someone who’d spent most of his life in his native form of a silver-scaled dragon, he was catching on to human ways and nuances quickly.

“We’ve already discussed that your employees should receive wages.

Since they don’t currently get those, you can’t call it a raise.

It would be the establishment of something that doesn’t exist.” Rylana didn’t point out that she didn’t receive wages either.

Since Jildarin had made her a partner in the diner, she would be entitled to part of the profits at the end of the month, so she was less concerned about weekly pay these days.

Of course, it would be nice to be able to rent lodgings somewhere so she wouldn’t have to continue to sleep on the floor in a corner of the storeroom…

“Due to the increased patronage, as you called it, many more meals are being served, and the employees are receiving greater tips than they did previously. I am told from others in the diner business that it is typical for servants to work fully for gratuities, thus to ensure their earnings are commensurate with their efforts.”

“Servers, not servants.”

Jildarin looked blankly at her. He was learning much about being a human, but there were some things that dragons had trouble grasping. One was that lesser species—as his brother called humans, dwarves, trolls, and essentially every two-legs except elves—didn’t exist simply to serve their kind.

“Never mind.” Rylana waved her hand and didn’t point out that their goblin worker, Rolf, got higher tips than anyone else and that it was because he wheedled and connived, not because he put in more effort to ensure a quality dining experience.

“This isn’t what I wanted to bring up. I thought you might consider putting some of the profits back into the diner.

We could expand the amount of seating available so that we could accommodate more people.

Some of the increased patronage is due to your contest win—”

“People can see the glowing golden whisk in the window and are drawn because they know they will experience a superior meal here.” Jildarin drew a knife from the block and stabbed it into the air like a fencing foil before turning it to mince tiny green needles fresh from the forest. Apparently, he’d found another recipe that called for spruce tips.

“I have no doubt. Because of that, there’s been a line out the door for most meal services.

I’ve implemented a ticketing system so that people can visit other businesses on the street—such as the popular coffee shop across the way—while they wait.

” Rylana didn’t point out that the system had some drawbacks, such as that Rolf sneaked out to sell tickets that allowed customers to jump the line—for a price.

“If we had more seating available and hired a few more servers and maybe someone to help you in the kitchen, we could make more people happy each day.”

“Happy people.” Jildarin’s tone suggested that wasn’t something dragons cared about in the least.

“We could allow more two-legs to experience the delight of your cuisine and learn that dragons aren’t merely terrifying predators that raze settlements with fire and snap enemies in half with their powerful jaws; they have, as you’ve informed me, a culture and history and are intelligent beings.

” Thus far, Rylana hadn’t experienced a lot of dragon culture, but she did believe that their kind were far more sophisticated than most people thought.

“You seek to flatter me?” Jildarin eyed her sidelong.

“I’m just repeating what you’ve told me are your goals. If I wanted to flatter you, I would drop to my knees, overwhelmed by your magnificence, and spend all day everyday telling you how wonderful your food is and what a brilliant knack you have for cooking.”

“This morning, you told me the new coffee-rubbed bacon was wonderful and brilliant.”

“Yeah, but after twenty seconds, I completed the praising process and took my bacon to the office to eat while I worked on the books.” And the plans she was trying to get around to discussing with him.

“This is true.” After a thoughtful moment, Jildarin added, “Perhaps a few more tables could be added to the dining room, but there would be little capacity for more, especially since room must remain available for the gnome’s dish-collection contraption to whir about.

Where would you propose that we add more seating? ”

“Well, now that we’ve sold some of the excess ovens in the storeroom, we could add some lanterns and put a few tables back there.”

“The storeroom.” Jildarin set his knife down with a thunk and faced her. “I sleep back there. It’s my lair. My sanctuary. Most importantly, it is the only legal place in this city—a city that is overly concerned about weapons and violence—where I am permitted to assume my dragon form and relax.”

“True, but you relax after the diner is closed, not while people are noshing on chimera rib roast and eel casserole.”

“It would be difficult to stretch out with tables all over the place. And I would not want strangers and their lingering body scents and breath in my abode of peace. You are fortunate that I allow you to sleep in there.”

“I’d like to think I keep my breath and body scents in a savory state.

If you won’t consider adding seating to the storeroom, what about seasonal outdoor dining on the rooftop?

” Rylana hadn’t expected him to give up even a corner of his storeroom-lair and had planned to propose an outdoor-dining space from the beginning.

But she’d anticipated he would balk at the cost. For a dragon, he was amazingly frugal, aside from a few ordering mishaps that had occurred before she’d arrived.

She assumed it was because his mother withheld access to the clan hoard from him.

“Most of the roof is flat, sturdy, and decently drained. I went up to look. With summer on the way, rooftop dining could be popular. There’s room between this building and the next to add a staircase.

And with the addition of tile pavers, a pergola, and maybe some flower planters, it could be a cherished spot for our customers. ”

“A… pergola? What is that?”

“An open-roofed structure for partial shade that adds aesthetic appeal and helps define seating areas.”

“Open-roofed.”

“Yes, so you can see when dragons are flying overhead. We could also consider a gazebo, which has a solid roof, so people could dine even if there’s a touch of rain.

” Striving for casualness, Rylana waved toward the office.

“I reached out to a contractor to get a bid and had some sketches made. Do you want to see them?”

Jildarin squinted at her, probably realizing she’d planned this out and hadn’t brought up the idea on a whim. As she’d noted before, even if he wasn’t overly interested in the day-to-day running of a business and preferred to focus on cooking, he did not lack intelligence.

“You will get at least three bids and show them to me,” he finally said.

Rylana nodded. “That’s wise.”

After a thoughtful moment, he added, “It is good that you seek to make the diner successful and profitable. That is why I have made you my partner.”

“I thought it was because I almost dislocated my shoulder hurling bags of dwarven rock candy—more like lead-weight candy—at your enemies during the cooking contest.”

“I do appreciate that you’ve gone into battle with me, both in the cooking arena and in the forest against overly aggressive would-be mates.”

Jildarin not only nodded at her but gave Rylana a gaze that made her body heat. Not for the first time, she noticed how handsome he was when he was in his human form, his short silver hair thick and lush, his clean-shaven jaw strong, and his emerald eyes striking.

Too bad he wasn’t interested in recreational mating, as he called it. He’d been completely perplexed when his brother had suggested that sex with two-legged females could be interesting when one was shifted into that form himself.

“Nobody likes an overly aggressive mate,” Rylana murmured. She reminded herself that she was still getting over the loss of Captain Maverick and didn’t need a new romance in her life. Certainly not a romance with a dragon.

“Or domineering family members who attempt to manipulate you into flying in a certain direction.” Jildarin chopped the spruce needles with more vigor than the task required.

“I’ll assume you’re not talking about my father, though that would also apply to him.”