Page 5 of Curvy Girl and the Single Dad Dragon
Her little face falls. "But what if I have an accident? Like today?"
I set down the knife and move to kneel before my daughter, taking her small hands in mine. "Then we'll handle it together. But we must be extra careful around Luna, okay? No dragon talk, no fire play, not even a little."
"But what if she sees? Will she run away like Mommy did?"
The innocent question cuts deep. "Luna isn't your mommy, sweetheart. She's coming to work for us, to take care of you while I'm at work. That's all."
"But she could be someday, right? If she loves us?"
I sigh, wishing I could protect her from more disappointment. "Let's just focus on tomorrow, okay? On making Luna feel welcome."
Ember nods, but I can tell she's not satisfied with my answer. Neither am I, to be honest. Because despite all my rational arguments against it, part of me—the lonely, secret part—wonders the same thing. What if Luna Hayes is different? What if she could accept us for what we are?
It's a dangerous thought, one I can't afford to entertain. And yet, as I prepare our dinner, I find myself wondering what Lunamight be doing right now. Packing her things, perhaps. Telling her mother about her new job. Thinking about us.
About me.
I shake my head, annoyed at the direction of my thoughts. I hired a nanny today, nothing more. The fact that she's beautiful, kind, and seems to genuinely care about children, about Ember specifically, is professionally relevant but personally irrelevant. It has to be.
Because I've learned the hard way that humans can love the man but fear the dragon. And I am both, inseparably, eternally.
So, no matter how my body responds to Luna Hayes, no matter how her smile makes something long dormant stir within me, I know the truth: some secrets are too big, too dangerous to share. Even with someone who smells like cookies and flowers and looks at my daughter like she's already falling in love with her.
Especially with someone like that.
Chapter 3 - Luna
The early morning sun filters through the trees as I pull up to the Thorne residence, my small car packed with everything I own, which isn't much, really.
A suitcase of clothes, a box of books, my laptop, and a few cherished mementos from Dad. The rest of my belongings are still at Mom's house, but I don't need much to start this new chapter of my life.
I check my watch: 6:55 AM. Early, but I wanted to make sure I arrived on time. First impressions matter, and technically, yesterday was just the interview. Today is my actual first day on the job.
The house looks different in the morning light, more welcoming somehow, with golden sunlight warming the cedar siding. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. This is what I've trained for. I can do this.
As I step out of my car, the front door opens, and Damon emerges onto the porch. He's wearing work clothes, jeans and a navy t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, with a flannel shirt left open over it despite the warm morning. His dark hair is still damp from a shower, and even from this distance, those unusual golden eyes seem to lock onto mine with unnerving intensity.
"Good morning," he calls, his deep voice carrying easily across the yard. "Need help with your things?"
"Good morning!" I respond, probably too brightly. "I don't have much, but thank you."
He descends the porch steps and crosses to my car in a few long strides. Up close, he's even more imposing than I remembered.The top of my head barely reaches his chest, and when he reaches past me to open my trunk, I catch a cedarwood scent that's unexpectedly pleasant.
"Just these?" he asks, looking at my meager possessions.
I nod, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I travel light."
A small smile tugs at his lips. "Makes moving easier." He effortlessly lifts both my suitcase and the box of books—which I know from experience is incredibly heavy—as if they weigh nothing at all.
"I can take something," I offer, not wanting to seem lazy on my first day.
"I've got it." He nods toward the house. "Ember's inside finishing breakfast. She's been up since five, too excited to sleep."
The thought of the little girl's enthusiasm warms my heart. "I hope I don't disappoint her," I say honestly.
Damon pauses, looking down at me. "You won't," he says simply, then continues toward the guest house at the back of the property.
I follow him along a stone path that winds through a garden that's clearly new—freshly planted flowers and shrubs that haven't yet filled in. The guest house itself is charming, a small cottage with the same cedar siding as the main house, a covered porch with a swing, and large windows.
