Page 22 of No Room at Dragon's Landing

“Now.”

There was no arguing with a pregnant omega. I didn’t even try.

Once we were in town, our first stop was a local arts-and-crafts co-op. Almost everything in it was dragon-oriented, and, at first, I was confused about why he might need anything there. But he took me straight into the back where the quilts were and picked out not one, not two, not three, but every single one consigned there.

Again, I didn’t argue. He was a pregnant omega. We could afford it, and, if his nesting required all those blankets, we were getting them. Not that I was confident he knew what was happening. He’d figure it out soon enough. Let him have his momentum.

“Did you want those wrapped as gifts?” the cashier asked.

Boen shot me a look as if asking for help.

“No, they’re for the B&B. If you could just put them in bags, that would be great.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” The cashier folded them all up and stuffed them into bag after bag.

It took me a couple of trips, but I got them to the car.

“Anywhere else?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

Off to the furniture store we went. We’d already ordered a bunch from here, and they knew us, but this time, he didn’t go to the furniture section. He went straight to the rugs and picked out one that looked like it belonged in the 1970s. It was shaggylicious, ugly, and very, very blue.

It didn’t go with a single thing we had in our home or at the B&B, but he rubbed his cheek against it and said, “We’ll take that one.”

Before the man could roll it up, Boen added twenty-three throw pillows. Being the good mate that I was, I carried them all out to the car and asked where we were going next, not once flinching at the sheer volume of pillows we now owned.

The next stop surprised me—it was the bookstore. I figured he’d be looking for all the soft things, since clearly he was getting ready for the babies. But no, he picked out one of every single children’s dragon book that was blue. No other color. Just blue.

Why blue? I didn’t ask. He was pregnant. He wanted blue children’s books that had dragons on them. We were getting blue children’s books that had dragons on them. End of story.

He also grabbed a few stuffed animals and a box of crayons, which had me more confused than the rest of the items combined.

After the bookstore, we stopped at the hardware store then the bakery and, finally, the grocery store. Instead of buying food, he picked out a bunch of water bottles.

He fell asleep on our way home, worn out from shopping. I carried him up to bed. Then I brought all of our newly purchased belongings to the house. They couldn’t stay at the B&B—there was no room for them.

When I got back upstairs, I climbed into bed beside him, and the two of us took a nap. I woke when the phone went off; the inspectors were here.

“I got it. You stay in bed, sweetie.” I kissed his cheek.

He shook his head. “No. I need to go. I need to go with you. What if something’s wrong?”

There wasn’t going to be, but if he wanted to be bored instead of taking a nap, that was fine with me. We met the inspector, and, just as I expected, everything went swimmingly.

As soon as the door closed behind the inspector, Boen sighed. “I thought this was a dream. What was I thinking? Why do I have all of this?”

“Because you’re nesting.”

“I thought nesting meant you cleaned. That’s what it says on the fathers-to-be sites.”

“Well, maybe for humans, it’s cleaning.”Not sure how that gets people ready for baby, but if that’s their thing, that’s their thing.

He pointed to himself. “Human here. I should be cleaning, not buying out all the quilts in the country.”

It wasn’t exactly that many, but there were plenty.

“I know, but you’re carrying dragons, which means you need to build a nest. Gertrude said she went over all this with you.” She promised me she had, saying it would be less embarrassing coming from her. It should’ve been a hint that she hadn’t when he didn’t babble on about it.

---