Page 17 of Dragon Prince of New York

His expression turns serious, glancing over his shoulder at my best friend, who's currently talking to Cyrus a few paces away. “By the goddess and the gold, I won’t try anything tonight.”

Weird, but okay. To each his own.

“I would, however, like your blessing to pursue her when she’s sober," he says. "Not as a fling, but for something real.”

“That’s up to her. But… You’re gonna have an uphill climb. She’s not ready for anything serious.”

His usual jovial smile grows broader. “I can be very persuasive.”

When we join Sora and Cyrus by the door, Jethro offers her his arm, which makes her giggle. They leave with smiles on their faces, and I’m still reeling from my best friend’s out-of-character behavior when Cyrus shuts the door behind them.

“You’re sure he’ll behave himself? She’s newly acquainted with sex and hasn’t had any in months.” Cyrus gives me a slightly confused look until I explain. “She’s only been with one person and got a divorce recently.”

“Ah, well, I would trust Jethro with my life. He’s one of the most honorable men I know. But…” He directs a pensive stare at the closed door.

“But what? You can’t just saybutlike that and trail off! Do I need to go after them?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, she’s safe with him. I’ve just never seen him so captivated by someone.”

“Oh, well, Sora’s gorgeous.” I wave dismissively. “Men have always given her a lot of attention. Though she usually ignores it.” I walk back into the kitchen, pushing up my sleeves so I can get to work on the dishes. “Honestly, I’m surprised you weren’t drooling all over her. I caught my ex staring at her boobs more than once.”

A low rumbling comes from behind me, and when I look over my shoulder, Cyrus has his lips pinched in an angry line. “He didn’t deserve you.”

“Does anyone ever deserve anyone else? We’re all pretty messed up. Love is a choice, a gift, not something we’re owed.” I avoid looking at him as I put the bread back in the fridge.

Cyrus makes a low growling noise of displeasure. “I’m not talking about love. I’m talking about common decency. We all deserve to be treated with respect. And that asshole clearly had none.”

“I guess.” But I can’t help wondering sometimes if I made him lose respect for me. If I drove Tim away, made him stop caring somehow. Maybe I was too blunt or too clingy or wasn’t caring enough. I don’t know. I’ve never been great with relationships, even friendships.

When I’m hyper focused on a painting or sculpture, I zone out and forget things like birthdays, dates, and anniversaries. I hate talking on the phone, so I never call people just to catch up or see how they’re doing. I say what I think and I’m not always the most empathetic. But when I get lonely and insecure, I can be pretty needy.

I know all these things about myself, but I’ve never really known how to change them. Howto fix myself so I’m not so broken, so I’m more lovable.

“Where’d you go?” Cyrus asks. The counter is clear now and only the dishes are left.

“Nowhere. Just thinking.”

I start loading the dishwasher, but Cyrus nudges me aside. “I’ll do that.”

Is it strange that his simple offer gives me a fluttery feeling in my belly? Tim would have never offered to take over washing the dishes.

I relinquish the plate I’m holding, but stay in the kitchen, leaning my hip against the counter, absentmindedly watching him.

He moves with a sort of grace that’s not normal for most men. His fingers are long and almost elegant as they move a rag over the plate before placing it in the dishwasher. He’s thorough. Focused.

I can’t help wondering what those fingers would feel like on me. In me.

“Want to share what’s in that beautiful head of yours?”

“Ha! No. Definitely not.”

“Alright, want to hear whatI’mthinking?” Finished, he closesthe dishwasher, wipes his hands on a towel, and mirrors my position against the counter. “I’m thinking about that list I’m making of all the things I want to do to you.”

“The one you’ll only share with me on my birthday?” The annoyance in my tone is a bit too biting, shattering the mood. “Giving me a lady-boner without satisfaction isn’t a very good birthday present.”

He leans in close so his breath tickles my ear. “Who says I’m not going to satisfy you?”

With that, he saunters off, leaving me feeling unmoored and restless. What the hell is with him and this obsession with my birthday? And why the hell do I keep falling for his teasing?

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