Chapter 23
At the same time, Emmeline and Luke looked to where the noise had come from. Panic rose in her throat and she rushed out, Luke a step behind her, only to find Motu covered in paint.
He had jumped from paint tray to paint tray, knocking the last one over. Luckily, she had covered the table and floor with newspapers, but Motu was now multicolored, his black scales dotted with blue, pink, green, and yellow.
Her heart was still racing from the brush of Luke’s lips against hers, but she now had to deal with this disaster of a baby dragon. He truly had terrible timing.
“Motu, no!” Emmeline cried as he jumped up, his wings flapping. Paint splattered in the air; she rushed forward, trying to stop the paint from hitting the shelves. Rogue flicks of paint landed on her, and she scowled.
“Stop!” she scolded. Motu froze. “Sit,” she demanded, and he sat down in the tray of pink paint.
“Seriously, Motu?” Luke muttered, shaking his head at the baby dragon. Covered in pink paint, Motu looked up at both of them innocently, as if he hadn’t just ruined the moment between her and Luke.
Her lips tingling at the memory, she went over and picked Motu up in her arms, not trusting him to sit still.
“I’ll get paper towels,” Luke said, disappearing. Paint quickly covered her hands and arms, dripping down onto her clothing as she stood on top of the newspapers.
“There goes this outfit,” she muttered unhappily. Motu tried to give her an adorable expression, as if he had had great fun, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t act cute with me.”
By then, Luke had returned with paper towels, and she tried shifting Motu to one arm, but, god, he really was fat. She could hardly hold him. Luke bit back a smile.
“Why don’t you set him down?” he said. “I think he knows not to jump, now.” She nodded, and Luke moved the paint trays off the table, making space.
Emmeline looked at the baby dragon, eyes warning. “Don’t move,” she ordered, carefully putting him back down atop the newspapers covering the table.
Motu calmly sat down, and she sighed. Her hair fell forward, and she tried tossing it back, but anytime she moved, her bangs and the shorter layers came bouncing forward again. Her hands were covered in paint, so she couldn’t move her hair back properly.
“Let me,” Luke said, noticing her struggle. “Do you have a clip somewhere?”
“My purse,” she replied, feeling surprised. She could have washed her hands, then gotten the clip herself.
She was so used to doing things herself, but he had noticed and didn’t hesitate to help. It was such a little thing, but it made her heart soften toward him.
Luke returned with her clip, then went behind her.
She tilted her head back, and his fingers brushed against the back of her neck as he gathered her hair together.
He twisted, and the slight tug sent her pulse racing.
It reminded her of his hand in her hair when she was tangled in her dress, the warmth of his body seeping deep into her bare skin. She felt weak at the knees.
He secured her hair in place—albeit sloppily—but it was good enough.
“Thanks,” she said.
“’Course.” He touched her shoulder, and a shiver ran down her spine.
She wiped her hands on the paper towels as best she could, then set about getting Motu as cleaned as possible, though the dried paint wouldn’t come off either of them without soap and water. As she did that, Luke started to clean up the paint trays.
“I can do it,” she said.
“I know, but so can I,” he replied. “Let me.”
Had he always been this caring? This kind? How had she never noticed before? There was a tenderness to him that made her want to do all sorts of foolish things.
She wasn’t very often at a loss for words, but she felt like a ship adrift today. As she continued to wipe Motu’s paws, Luke put away the paint tins and supplies into the bag she had brought them in.
He gathered the dirty newspapers and tossed them as she cleaned up Motu’s wings. The baby dragon was still covered with dry paint splatters, but she would give him a deep bath when they went home.
As Luke finished up, she went to the bathroom to wash her hands. In the mirror, she saw there were rogue splatters of paint across her cheek and neck; after her hands were clean, she wiped at the other spots. Evidently, she and Motu both needed a bath.
Once she’d done all she could, she went back out, where the mess was cleaned up. Motu sat calmly on the table. She continued wiping at a stubborn spot of paint on the back of her hand with a wet paper towel until it came out.
“This is the most color I’ve seen you wear,” Luke said, and she glanced up to his lips twitching. She looked at the multicolored splatters all over her black outfit; she looked like a rebellious teenager intent on designing her own clothes.
“Hilarious,” she said drily, but her lips twitched as well, as she walked over to him and Motu. It was ridiculous, and while he looked amused, she saw something else in his expression, a tenderness on his face as he looked at her. He must have sensed the question in her eyes.
“I like you in pink,” he said, voice soft.
Her cheeks flushed, and she was sure they were the same shade of pink as the paint. She was hardly one to blush, but suddenly, she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know why.
She had never felt so shy around a man before. It was a new feeling, not entirely unwelcome. He kept surprising her and, in turn, her reaction to him kept surprising herself.
“You missed a spot,” he said, pointing to her jaw. She raised the wet paper towel to wipe at it, but before she could, he took a step toward her, easily taking it out of her hand.
A jolt shot down her spine as he brought his other hand up, holding her chin. She was entirely immobile, letting him turn her face to the side. Her heart pounded against her chest. Then, he wiped along her throat.
Her breathing stopped altogether then at the contact, his touch searing through her. She swallowed, her throat moving against his hand. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, hoping they could pick up where they had left off. As if thinking the same thing, his eyes darkened.
But then they heard a knock on the front door.
She furrowed her brows. That was weird. “The shop’s closed,” she said.
“I’ll go see,” Luke said. He stepped away from her, and once he was gone, she released a shaky breath. Her body was overcome with sensations.
She glanced over at Motu, who needed to get cleaned up. Gathering her things, she gave her baby dragon a disappointed look. He was unperturbed, and she shook her head. After she collected all her things, she headed for the door, where she heard voices.
She looked and saw Luke was talking to a group of people, all crowded in front of the door. He seemed to be barring them from entering any further, trying to usher them out as he spoke in a low tone. It was three girls and two boys—she spotted one familiar face: Farhan.
Before she could say hi, one of the girls spotted Emmeline. Her face lit up, and she pinched one of the other girls.
“Emmy, hey!” Farhan said, waving a hand above the other heads.
“Hey, Farhan,” she replied, going over.
Rubbing a hand over his face, Luke released a long-suffering sigh. Farhan pushed past his brother, entering the bookshop to give Emmeline a quick side-hug. “Love the look,” he said, glancing down at the paint splatters. “Very teenager chic.”
“Occupational hazard when it comes to baby dragons,” she replied with a smile.
“We were just in the area so we wanted to pop in and say hi,” Farhan said cheerily, and Luke muttered an oath under his breath.
“This is my best friend, Basim.” Farhan set about introducing the group, and she realized it was the Din siblings, the ones Luke had mentioned before. “That’s Liliana, Jiya, and Hira.”
He pointed to the girls, seemingly going in age order, with Liliana being the youngest. She was probably a year or two older than Ginny, with Jiya a year older than her, and Hira looked around Saphira’s age.
“Oh, hi! It’s nice to meet you all,” she said. Basim nodded; he looked a bit stern and serious, very much the eldest child, while the girls looked excited.
“They were just leaving,” Luke said, trying to shove them all out the door. Basim seemed ready to go, but the girls and Farhan all held their ground. Liliana, especially, was looking at Emmeline with wide eyes, like she was meeting a celebrity. Emmeline bit back a smile.
“You should join us!” Liliana said. “We were going to get hot chocolate. We were trying to convince Luke to come along, and I’m sure he’ll join us if you are.” She batted her lashes sweetly in a manner that told Emmeline she was used to getting what she wanted.
Before Emmeline could reply, Luke cut in. “No, I don’t think she wants to,” he said. Emmeline gave him a funny look as Liliana and Jiya exchanged a glance. Hira shook her head at Luke.
“Thanks for the offer,” Emmeline said, “but I should get home and get cleaned up. Have fun!”
“You heard her,” Luke said, pulling open the front door. “See you later!”
As they exited, Emmeline caught Farhan’s gaze lingering on Jiya, and she recalled how Farhan had said chicken pilau was Jiya’s favorite. Hmm.
“Bye!”
“It was nice meeting you!”
“Hope to see you again!”
The girls’ voices tangled together as they all said bye, and Luke all but shoved them out. Once they were gone, he closed the door, leaning against it and releasing a sigh.
“Don’t mind them,” he said. “They’re basically my annoying little sisters.”
Emmeline smiled. They had reminded her of how she and Ginny loved bothering Aiden. “They seem sweet,” she said.
That got a smile out of him. “Yeah, they’re the best.” He paused, thinking of something. “You know how I freaked out about Flint?”
“Yeah,” she replied, confused as to why he was bringing all that awfulness up. He tensed, and she was afraid they would argue again.
“It wasn’t just because he’s part of the gang that runs the races,” he said. “You met Liliana—well, she’s always been reckless, and when she was hardly eighteen, she went to a party and attracted Flint’s attention. He spiked her drink.”
“Oh my god,” she replied, horrified. Luke clenched his jaw, visibly agonized by the memory.
“She managed to call Farhan to say she wasn’t feeling well, and we got to her in time, but . . .” He trailed off, shaking.
“That’s horrible,” she said. She understood now why he had reacted the way he had, especially when he saw Flint had given her a drink.
“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, releasing a long breath. “I got into a nasty fight with him and made him swear to stay away from anyone I cared about. It’s what I held him to that day by the lake to get him to stay away from you.”
Her blood roared in her ears, and shame burned through her. She had been so angry with him that day, and he’d only been protecting her.
“I’m someone you care about?” she asked, voice quiet.
He looked at her as if she was silly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Obviously.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks felt warm, and his eyes sparked with amusement. He looked as if he was enjoying this.
She cleared her throat, changing the subject. “The girls seemed nice,” she said. “It would have been fun to hang out.”
“Mm, it could have been,” he said, stepping toward her. “But the thing is, I don’t want to share.”
She blinked. She had always known he was charming and flirty, but it had never had such an effect on her. Before, it had all felt shallow, like a trick, but now, it felt like he meant every word, and that only made her heartbeat quicken.
She’d been given plenty of compliments by men before but, for some reason, it felt like it was worth more coming from him. It felt more genuine. She had been awful to him, and yet he was still kind to her, flirting with her, looking at her as if he wanted to devour her.
“Oh,” she replied stupidly.
“Yeah.” He grinned, his gaze scorching through her. A tendril of hair had come loose from her clip, and he tucked it behind her ear. His eyes were so brown, the color so specific she felt she had never seen it before anywhere else, as if the shade had been created solely for him and him alone.
Her cheeks felt like they were burning, and his eyes lowered, as if he could tell. His lips twitched. Gently, he brushed the top of her cheek with his thumb.
“So how about you get cleaned up and then we go out for hot chocolate,” he said.
She blinked, taken aback. “Like . . . a date?” As soon as the words were out, she cringed.
Why was this all so embarrassing?
He grinned. “Exactly.”