“Perhaps you could come and help me with my other clothes as well,” he offered. “I have...that is, they have the same fit issues as the suit.”
For a moment she was tempted, but she shook her head.
“I'm going to have my hands full with your suit as it is,” she said gently. “And as to the rest, it might be best to pick up something this week to wear, especially if your other clothes are more casual. You know, the clothes should fit you. You don't need to fit them.”
Something about what she said made him wince, but Morgan covered it up with a slight nod.
“You're right, likely. But the suit. I should come back in on Wednesday to see you again?”
“To make sure the fit is working, yes.”. She knew that both of them knew it for a lie. He wasn't coming for the suit; he looked like he had almost forgotten about it entirely. Morgan was coming to see her, and some part of her was glad. It was more than glad – it was relieved and happy and unhappy that he was leaving at all.
God, get a grip, she told herself firmly. He is a customer, that's all.
It was a lie, but she could figure that out tonight, alone on the couch and probably picking it all apart too intently.
“All right,” Morgan said. “I'll return on Wednesday.”
He said it like a pronouncement, words written in fire in the sky. Harper found herself smiling at that even as she wondered what in the world he did that he talked like that.
“Right. I'll know about the fee at that point, so I'll get a deposit from you then. Does that sound good?”
He nodded, and after that, there was nothing for it but to lead him back to the front of her little shop. It was dimmer now that the sun had set completely, darkness falling with the absolute speed of nights in spring.
Morgan hesitated as he looked out into the dark.
“Are you parked close?”
“It's not too bad. I'm over by the drainage ditch. Why?”
“Will you let me walk you?”
She gave him an amused look, sliding her jacket on. He looked so very serious.
“Worried much?”
“No, but…I would like to see you safely to your car.”
“My knight in shining armor,” Harper said. God, was she flirting? Was this what flirting was like?
Either way, her words won another smile from Morgan, and that was worth it.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes. All right.”
He waited patiently as she shut off the lights and pulled the shutter down over her shopfront, and then, true to his word, he walked her to the car. He was smart enough not to crowd her, but Harper found herself thinking that she wouldn't mind it if he crowded her just a little.
“Well, this is me,” she said when they reached her ancient station wagon. “See you Wednesday?”
He nodded, and the smile he gave her was nearly shy. Morgan opened his mouth to respond, and then a hard wind kicked up, followed by a noise that she could only categorize as the roar of an oncoming locomotive.
Get off the track, get off the track, her mind chanted, but of course there was no train and no track.
Instead there was a dragon swooping down on them from the night sky, its wings seeming to stretch from one end of the parking lot to the other, its fanged mouth open, and a heat like high summer closing in with no escape possible ...
Chapter Four
∞∞∞
Morgan was so enthralled by the idea that Harper was his true mate, so utterly enchanted with her, that he didn't hear the challenger until it was almost too late. As it was, he barely caught wind of the other dragon before Harper did, and it was just enough time to put himself between his mate and the danger.
The dragon hovered over them, long serpentine neck arching back to flame, and Morgan grabbed Harper, whirling her around and away from the aggressive dragon. The flame broke like a spray of water over his back, and he noted in the part of his mind that was still rational that it was barely enough to burn away his jacket. His T-shirt was a little crispy but nothing more. It was clear that the other dragon wasn't after a killing, but his own dragon wasn't having it.
My mate! his dragon raged. My mate, do not hurt her, do not touch her, do not even look at her!
“Are you all right?”
Harper stared up at him, her eyes wide as saucers.
“What the hell is that thing?”
“It's dead is what it is,” he growled, and he sprinted towards the center of the parking lot, changing as he went.
The pain caught him halfway through his transformation, starting as a bright spark high between his shoulder and his right arm and radiating out from there. He had come up with a dozen or so rather tortured metaphors for how it felt, but in the moment, the only thing that he knew was that it burned. It was terrible, and none of it mattered at all because that bastard had almost hurt Harper.
He was barely done transforming before he leaped into the air, meeting the other dragon head-on with a furious hiss. His steam, far hotter than his challenger's flame, made the other draw back, winging higher into the sky with Morgan right on his heels.
In his dragon form, Morgan was black from his crest to the very tip of his tail, and he noted grimly that the other dragon, though dark, was lighter, with a tinge of red to his scales.
Which clan do they belong to? Morgan wondered grimly. Are they a Foster or a Wright? Which one figured me out and decided that I was going to
