Page 31 of A Highland Gargoyle's Lucky Star
Braewyn throws his head back and laughs, deep and throaty. “Oh, aye. I like you. Feel free to deliver all the flattery you like.”
I grin back and bring on the sass, cocking my head to one side. “Watch out what you wish for, honey.”
For some reason, Elryk bristles. “Enough foolishness. Noah needs to eat.”
“Perfect! I’ll join you. I missed lunch and could use a snack before dinner later,” Braewyn says.
Elryk snorts in annoyance and then growls, “Fine,” as he storms off.
I follow at a distance with Braewyn.
“What crawled up his kilt this morning?”
Braewyn chokes on another laugh. “Good question. But it’s actually afternoon now. Nearly three o’clock.”
I run a hand through my still damp hair. “Wow. I slept longer than I thought.”
We arrive at a massive kitchen and I see an older gargoyle with white hair and glasses ordering around several younger workers under his guidance.
“Tal, our guest needs something to eat to tide him over until dinner,” Elryk says. “If you can make it a quick bite, that’d be best. I’m taking him on a tour of the castle shortly.”
I give the older gargoyle a little wave. “Hi, I’m Noah.”
Glasses perched on the end of his nose he studies me carefully. “You need fattening up, lad.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Don’t worry. I have a good appetite. I just happen to have a fast metabolism. Keeps me a lean, mean, sexy machine.”
Tal laughs. “Good to meet you, Noah. I’m Talfryn, but everyone calls me Tal. How do some sandwiches sound for now? We’ve got dinner in a couple of hours.”
I nod eagerly. “That’d be great. But don’t worry, I can make it myself. I don’t want to interfere with your work.”
He shakes his head. “Dinnae fash yerself. It’s my job to feed folk in the castle and I enjoy it. Anything you cannae have? Allergies?”
“Nope. Cast iron gut. I’ll eat just about anything.”
“I’ve some leftover sausages from breakfast. I’ll make ye a couple sausage and cheese butties.”
“Me too,” Braewyn says, raising his hand.
Tal narrows his eyes at him and Braewyn makes with the pleading eyes and praying hands. “Pretty please, Tal?”
The old man waves a gnarled hand and scoffs. “Bottomless pit of a stomach on ye, lad.”
Braewyn grins. “I’m a growing boy.”
I arch an eyebrow at him and he chuckles. “Okay, I’m twenty-eight, but my stomach thinks I’m still eighteen.”
The butties that Tal makes for us are simple fare on homemade rolls with plenty of butter and savory sausage and cheese. They’re just the right amount of greasy perfection for my hangover.
I wolf down two of them and even Braewyn’s impressed.
Elryk sits quietly at the table with us, his face a mask. He’s a bit of a mystery, but I happen to love a challenge.
When I’ve finished my meal and the last traces of my hangover disappear, I jump to my feet, raring to go.
“Thanks for the delicious food, Tal.”
“Aye, you’re welcome. It’s nice to see a young lad appreciate my grub.”
