The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas (An MM Monster Christmas #2)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

J ack pulled the tray of tomato-and-garlic loaves from the oven and closed the oven door. He set it down on a shelf, allowing it to cool. He removed the oven gloves, then wiped the back of his hand against his sweaty brow and rolled his shoulders.

Jack glanced towards the front of the bakery. Lacy and Casimir, his adopted pixie brother, served. Today Cas wore all green with sprigs of holly attached like a belt around the waist. “The Christmas pixie,” he called himself. His wings flapped as he hovered above the floor. A couple of patrons waited in line. But it wasn’t so busy that they needed Jack to help them.

“I already put cinnamon in it,” Leo said.

“You didn’t use enough!” Jasper, Leo’s identical twin, bickered.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Leo bit back.

Jack glanced at his sister Ordelia. They shared a look. The twins always fought. Ordelia hummed as she kneaded the bread dough, ignoring the boys. She hadn’t been in the bakery much of late, too busy looking after her little baby, Ruthie.

Meanwhile, Lachlan made ginger tarts, also ignoring the twins completely. But he kept glancing and smiling down at Kit, the stray-cat-turned-pet who lay curled on a cushion.

Jack wondered if Briar would come in today. It turned out he’d mated to a werewolf, and everyone was keen to see Briar with his new mate. Jack shook his head. He never could keep track of Briar and what he was up to. Something that stressed Grady out to no end.

“If you add any more cinnamon, it will ruin it!” Leo snapped.

The back door flung open, cold air and snow scattering in before the door was kicked shut by Grady. He dumped several crates of supplies by the back door. He pointed at the twins. “You two dickheads, cut it out. I can hear you prattling on in the street. Do you want to scare the customers away?” After their parents had died, Grady had been the one to take on the role of head of the family.

The twins fell silent. They mumbled some sort of apology and glared at each other.

“And you two should be at the Christmas markets already,” Grady said.

“I can finish up their cakes,” Cas said, flying into the back area and looking over Leo and Jasper’s work. “Probably just needs more sugar.”

Leo and Jasper opened their mouths.

But Grady spoke first. “Thanks, Cas.” Grady looked at the twins. “Come on, let’s go.”

Grady and the twins left the bakery, closing the door. Then Jack felt a flare of energy as Grady charged the protection charm on the door. He always did that. He was obsessed with protection charms. Jack and all his siblings each wore a woven protection band on their wrist made by Grady. He recharged it often.

The bakery immediately quieted with the departure of Grady and the twins. Jack turned to the jars of ingredients.

What should I bake now?

Jack ran his hand along the jars. He always let his soul guide his baking. As a hearth witch with an affinity for nourishment, he found that his instincts often indicated what their customers needed most.

Outside, the snow fluttered by the window in a blur of white. The windowpane rattled. Jack suppressed a shiver at the thought of being out in the snow.

Jack focused, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

Make something warm. Something spiced. Something wholesome to chase the cold away from the bones of the customers.

Memories flitted through his mind. His mother sitting by the open fire. The flickering flame. The sweet crumbling goodness as he bit into a freshly baked cookie. The gentle spices, perfectly balanced, melding together as the cookie melted on his tongue.

He heard his mother’s gentle laugh. He felt her soft touch as she stroked her fingers through his hair. And for a moment, Jack held on to that time and place. He held on to a feeling of being cherished and cared for from years and years ago.

Swallowing, Jack opened his eyes. He pulled out one of his mother’s recipe books, this one dedicated to Christmas cookies. He opened it and ran his fingers over the familiar scrawl of her writing. He searched for her spiced cookie recipe.

Jack pulled out the ingredients. As he mixed, he focused on the feelings of comfort, care, and nourishment he’d experienced in his mother’s presence. He thought of family and love. He fixed those feelings and memories in his mind and hands as he worked the dough.

His mother had died years ago. But he felt the connection with her still, through the memories, through her dark scrawling handwriting on the pages in her recipe book, through the ritual of baking something that had been passed down from generation to generation, and through a love that didn’t die with death or time.

“Thank you, Mother,” he whispered as he stared at the tray of cookies.

Jack glanced up at Carrie, his elderly iguana familiar. They had shelves built in every room she liked to be in. She always watched over the family.

The fact that Jack had taken his mother’s familiar as his was unusual but not unheard of. He was concerned that Carrie was too old to be his familiar. But it had felt right to Jack.

And when he told Grady, Grady had just nodded and said, “Mother would have liked that.”

“Do you think she’d approve?” Jack asked Carrie. “It’s mother’s recipe, after all.”

Carrie opened her beady eyes. Her green neck stretched forward and she peered down at him.

Jack felt a surge of approval through the witch-familiar bond.

Jack smiled. “Thank you.”

Carrie shuffled back, closed her eyes, and returned to sleep. Jack placed the tray in the oven.

“Jack, can you help serve?” Lacy asked in a strange sing-song voice.

Frowning, Jack wiped his hands on his apron as he came out front. Lacy knelt behind the counter, jiggling a drawer handle. She seemed to be having trouble opening it. “Sorry, Jack. I’ve just got to fix this thing.” Lacy did not meet his gaze.

“All right.” Slightly confused, Jack turned to the one customer in the bakery. He paused.

Avery stood before him. Jack had thought he might have imagined how gloriously beautiful Avery was.

He hadn’t.

“Thanks, Jack,” Lacy said.

“No problem.” Jack flashed her a tight smile. He should have known his protests wouldn’t put her off. She was a scheming little witch. “Nice to see you again, Avery. How can I help you?”

“I’d like a vanilla crescent cookie, please,” Avery said in his proper, clipped accent.

The bell jingled, and another customer came into the bakery. Lacy jumped up to serve. Apparently, she’d managed to fix the drawer. Jack glanced at her. She smiled brightly back at him and turned to the customer.

“Of course,” Jack said to Avery. “How many would you like?”

“Just the one.” Avery smiled shyly.

Avery really was lovely to look at. “Did you want to eat it here?”

Avery gave a small nod. “Yes, please.”

“Anything to drink?”

Avery shook his head, his curls bouncing. What would Avery’s hair feel like to touch? Would the curls feel as soft as they looked? Would they slide through Jack’s fingers like silk?

“All right.” Jack pulled out a plate and placed the cookie on it. He slid it towards the man.

As Avery reached out, his finger brushed Jack’s. A shot of sensation burst along his skin. Jack startled. He stared at their fingers, still touching.

Avery’s slender hand with long, elegant fingers contrasted with Jack’s big bulky hands, thick clumsy fingers, and stubby nails. Burn scars marked Jack’s hands and forearms from all the times he’d been rushed or careless with the oven.

Jack snatched his hand back. His skin prickled with embarrassment.

Once again, Avery didn’t take the cookie to a table. He lifted it to his mouth and took a bite. He moaned, thick coppery eyelashes fluttering shut against pale cheeks.

Avery groaned as he chewed. The sound went straight to Jack’s gut. Jack swallowed as his gaze slid along the man’s neck. Jack looked away and cleared his throat, trying to ignore the arousal that stirred inside him.

And despite himself, Jack wondered if someone like Avery could ever be interested in a hearth witch from one of the poorer parts of Anorra.

Avery finished the cookie. He let out a contented sigh.

A sense of satisfaction filled Jack. This had been made by his family, and Avery had enjoyed it. “How was it?”

“Perfect.” Avery smiled at Jack. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his coin-purse. He counted out the coins and placed them on the counter. “Thank you, Jack.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Where is your familiar today?” Avery asked.

“Carrie? She is in the back sleeping.” Jack gestured to the back. “We have another shelf for her there. She often likes to be near the oven.”

“Hmmm. Where it’s nice and warm. Smart girl.” Avery slid the plate back. “Thank you very much. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Jack’s gaze followed Avery as he left the store.

“You should ask him to the Christmas markets!” Lacy whispered fiercely from behind him.

Jack jumped. “What?”

“He’s so cute,” she pressed.

Jack shook his head. “And he’d probably prefer someone cute like him. Not someone like me.” He gestured to himself.

She reared back, eyes blazing. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Easy there.” Jack gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m just not as pretty and polished as him.”

“Maybe he wants someone like you!”

“What? A bit of rough?” Jack scoffed. “Maybe for a night or two.” He shook his head. “There isn’t a future there,” he said softly.

Lacy opened her mouth, but the bell tinkled and the door opened. Lacy turned her attention to the new customer, and Jack let out a breath, having been saved from continuing the conversation.