Page 24 of Overbooked at Dragon's Landing

“I do.” He stopped moving. “Just ask what you need. Your dragon is flipping out.”

Which meant he was much closer to the surface than I’d realized.

“When he laid eggs, there were…eggs, right?”

“Yeah, that’s generally how it works. Why? Is your mate carrying in the human way?”

“No, no, I’m saying this so wrong.” And the more I spoke, the worse it got.

“Deep breath, my friend. Deep breath in…and out. In…and out.”

I followed his instructions, grateful for his guidance.

“Now, what is this all about?”

“He only laid one egg,” I blurted out and waited for the look of horror to cross his face, but none did. Only confusion.

“I see. And how is the egg?”

“It’s beautiful. It’s a blue color that matches my mother’s eyes, and it’s sparkly and large. I don’t know, it’s just…perfect.”

“Then you don’t need to worry.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Everything is as it should be.”

“But dragons come in twos or threes or sometimes fours—”

“And sometimes they come in ones.”

That was exactly what I needed to hear. Why hadn’t I come to him sooner?

“Thanks. I needed someone to talk me off the ledge.”

“You know, that’s why we have mates.”

Normally, I’d have agreed with him, but this was different.

“Would you say anything remotely scary to your mate about their pregnancy or young before the baby was born?”

“Yeah, no. That would be bad.” Understanding crossed his face.

“Exactly. Now, tell me what I can do to help. I’m here. I gotta pay you for your information.” And I liked helping out around here. It was nice to have a dragon friend, and this place always seemed to have someone interesting staying here.

“You don’t have to pay me for anything.” He was wrong there. He’d helped me out more than once at the house when a DIY repair had gone wrong. I owed him for a lot and helping with breakfast wasn’t going to hit the tip of the iceberg.

“Well, how about this? I want to help—as a sign of gratitude.”

“Well, if that’s the case…maybe you can go polish that silverware over there with one of the linens next to it.” He pointed to the far counter.

“That, I can do.”

I worked on getting the silverware ready, then filled water pitchers, carried trays of Danish pastries and muffins, anything and everything he needed. It was their so-called slow season, but they were busy. Dragon’s Landing B&B had earned quite a nice reputation in the short time they’d been around, and I was happy for them.

But as breakfast wound down, I headed back to see my mates.

The baby was coming soon, and all three of us were at home although Trace and I both working still remotely.

When I walked in the house, I came bearing gifts—a basket of muffins from Cyrus and Boen.‘

“These are for me.” Ralph came over and snatched one from the basket. “Cyrus made these, didn’t he?” He took a bite. “Nope. These are Boen’s. Even better.”

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