Page 31 of Hot for the Dragon

Her laugh echoed through the burned shop, somehow making the devastation around them feel less oppressive. Archer found himself fighting back a smile of his own, wondering when exactly this cheerful witch had started breaking down his carefully constructed barriers.

Archer cleared his throat, desperate to break the heavy emotional atmosphere that had settled between them. The streetlights flickered to life outside, casting shadows across the cobblestones.

"It's getting late. I should walk you home," he said in a low voice, as he headed for the shop's exit.

"I'd like that," she said, falling into step beside him.

The evening air carried the lingering scent of smoke mixed with the salt breeze from the harbor. Archer found himself hyper-aware of her presence, of how her shoulder occasionally brushed against his arm as they walked.

"So," he said, searching for neutral territory, "how'd you end up running a flower shop?"

Her face lit up. "Would you believe it started with a cactus?"

"A cactus?"

"Mmhmm. My first attempt at growing anything. I killed three of them before I figured out you're not supposed to water them every day."

Archer couldn't help the low chuckle that escaped him. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"Hey!" She nudged him playfully. "I got better. Started with hardy plants, worked my way up to the delicate ones. Before I knew it, I had more flowers than I knew what to do with."

"And people actually bought them?"

"They did once I learned to stop making them dance."

His eyebrows shot up. "Dance?"

"Early days of magic control." She winced. "Let's just say there were a few... interesting incidents involving singing violets and a tango-ing tiger lily."

The mental image struck him as absurd, and he found himself laughing again. When was the last time he'd genuinely laughed twice in one conversation?

"The shop just grew from there," she continued, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. "Started in my garage, then moved to that little storefront. Built up a loyal customer base who didn't mind if occasionally their bouquets hummed show tunes."

Archer watched her as she talked, noticing how her eyes sparkled when she described her favorite arrangements. The dragon in him prided itself at having such an attractive woman so comfortable in his presence, even while another part of him warned against getting too close to her.

They'd only made it halfway to her house, but Archer found himself slowing their pace, oddly reluctant for the evening to end.

"So, what's your latest carving project?" Daphne suddenly asked, her breath misting in the cool evening air.

Archer tensed, caught a little off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. His first instinct was to deflect, but something in her expression made him pause.

"A ship," he admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Three-masted schooner. Working on the rigging details now."

"That sounds incredible! How do you get all those tiny ropes right?"

The genuine curiosity in her voice threw him. Most people's eyes would probably glaze over the moment he mentioned woodworking. "Small tools. Steady hands. Lots of patience."

"Do you sketch it out first or just... go for it?"

"Both. Sometimes I'll rough out a design, but other times..." He gestured with his hands, trying to explain. "The wood tells you what it wants to be."

"That sounds like my plants!" Daphne's eyes lit up. "Sometimes they have their own ideas about growing, no matter what you planned."

Archer found himself nodding, surprised by the apt comparison. "Exactly. This maple piece I'm working with now - kept fighting me until I realized it wanted to be waves instead of calm water."

"How long have you been carving?"

"Since I left the wing." The words slipped out. He stiffened, waiting for the inevitable probing questions about his past.

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