Chapter 11
Luke had been on Elderberry Lane by chance that Saturday, and he’d spotted Emmeline instantly.
Anytime he was in the Hills, a part of him always hoped to run into her, but that afternoon, she looked troubled, closing her eyes against the wind, and the scene had played out like one from a horror film: her feet carrying her onto the street, just as a car skidded on the ice.
He’d lunged to reach her, pulling her back.
When Emmeline’s eyes flew open, her gaze immediately went to Motu, worrying over him, and for some reason, the gesture had sent him over the edge. She took care of everyone else, but who took care of her?
Her negligence regarding herself had made him angry, and then she had had the audacity to ask him why he would care whether she got hurt or not.
A week later, as they worked together quietly in the Tales where she used to keep her nails painted the same blood-red as her lipstick, now they were bare; she always had at least two drinks nearby; and a hundred other tiny details.
“What?” Emmeline asked, voice sharp as a razor as she glanced over at him. They were both sharing the desk, sitting on the opposite end from the computer in chairs.
He blinked. “What?”
“Don’t act dumb,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “You keep looking over at me. I’ve been noticing all week.”
“And you think I have an inflated ego?” he snorted, trying to act cool even though she was absolutely right; he had been watching her all week.
She released a short breath from her nostrils. “I can’t believe you’re here at all,” she muttered, returning her attention to her laptop.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, intrigued.
“Your business.” The words were clipped. “I can’t believe you copied my idea.”
Shock poured through him, and he froze. Did she really not remember?
“You’re kidding,” he said, dumbfounded.
“No, I’m not,” she replied. “You should have come up with your own idea instead of taking mine.”
His disbelief was promptly replaced with anger. It wasn’t the accusation that upset him, but the fact that she genuinely didn’t remember how they had come up with the animal-roasted coffee idea at the same time.
It was the morning after they’d slept together.
She never thought about that time together, did she? Clearly not. She didn’t remember it at all, when he had memorized every moment, replayed it again and again like a broken record.
That night, the way it had felt to be around her all evening was unlike anything he’d experienced in his life. Kissing her for the first time had been like unlocking a new language that had always existed deep inside of him but he’d never understood before.
They continued to get up to no good until the bookshop slowly emptied out and Minh told them it was time for closing.
Luke had been disappointed at the thought of the night being over.
As they headed out into the cold, he had planned to ask her out for dinner the next day, when she’d surprised him by asking if he wanted to come back to her place, her family home, though no one was in.
Of course he’d said yes. They went back to hers, and he had been jittery like he was a teenager on a first date. She was acting so confident, but he could tell she was nervous, too. He caught the way her hands slightly trembled, just the slightest chink in her armor, and he’d held her hand.
The night they slept together was probably the best night of his life.
The next morning, he’d roused early to find the sun slanting into her room through the blinds, which hadn’t been fully closed. He glanced over at Emmeline and saw that her brows were scrunched. Sunlight was shining across her eyes.
Luke lifted a hand, shielding her face from the light, and her expression relaxed.
After a few minutes, his arm got sore, but she was sleeping so peacefully, he couldn’t bear to let his hand drop.
He finally shifted until he was on his side, his shoulders blocking the sun, and he’d watched her until he’d fallen asleep again.
In the morning, he woke up to her alarm going off. She released a growl, slapping the alarm off aggressively.
He looked over as she groaned, clearly unhappy to be risen. Her expression was like that of an angry kitten. She rubbed her eyes, smudging her makeup further.
Then, she seemed to remember he was there, and she turned her face to his. Her dark eyes widened.
She looked like she wanted to say something but was nervous. Before she could, he asked, “Coffee?”
Surprise lit her face, and she said, “Yes.”
Luke sat up, then realized he didn’t know where the kitchen was. She’d smiled, gaze dropping to his bare chest.
“Let’s get dressed,” she said, her lips pink with a faded lipstick stain. There was kajal smudged around her eyes, and her hair was messy.
Slipping on a silk robe, she showed him to the guest bathroom, where he showered and got dressed. By the time he was out, she was perfectly done up again, all signs of last night gone as they went to the kitchen.
There, he sat at the counter while they discussed the merits of various coffee-brewing techniques, pour-over versus drip versus cold brew. He didn’t know she was as enthusiastic about coffee as he was.
“You’re as bad as me,” he said, and she smiled from across the counter.
“I like all types of coffee, but I feel like pour-over gives the best flavor profile,” she said, pulling out a bag of coffee from the cabinet to put in the grinder. “I just wish the roast was darker.”
“I get this brand, too,” he said, recognizing the label. “That is, unfortunately, the darkest profile there is.”
As the coffee beans ground, someone entered the kitchen with a baby dragon in her arms; it must have been her family’s dragon caretaker. Emmeline left the coffee grinder to scoop the black-scaled baby dragon into her arms.
“Are you up from your nap?” Emmeline asked her baby dragon, carrying her over. She set the dragon down on the counter. “This is Torch,” Emmeline told Luke.
“Hello, angel,” Luke said, holding a hand out to Torch. She looked at Luke hesitantly, purple eyes assessing, but then slowly stepped closer. Luke touched his hand to Torch’s cheek, and the baby dragon hissed at the contact. Her scales were hot, and Luke withdrew his hand.
“My hands are cold,” Luke said.
“She hates that,” Emmeline affirmed. Torch opened her mouth wide, then sparked out a little flame in the direction of Luke’s hand. The heat immediately warmed his fingers, but he fanned the flame away before it caught on his shirt-sleeve.
Emmeline chided, “Torch, we don’t shoot fire at people. I’ve told you this already!”
“Hey—” Luke started, standing, just as Emmeline’s gaze fell to the flames on the half-empty bag of coffee. Grabbing a towel, Emmeline swatted at the bag until the flames subsided.
An idea flickered in Luke’s mind. At the same time, Emmeline turned to him with wide eyes.
“What if—” They both said at the same time.
Luke laughed. “You go.”
“Dragon fire is intense,” Emmeline said. “What if I roasted coffee with a dragon’s flame?”
They were so similar; pleasure bloomed in his chest. “I was just thinking that,” Luke said, “though more so in terms of a chimera. I’ve got a baby chimera at home—Sharptooth.”
“Dragon-roasted coffee,” Emmeline said. He could see the gears in her head turning.