by Zoe Chant
"Dad." Ben put his hand on Darius's arm. That stopped him in his note-taking; his son touching him was a rarity. And Ben's expression was sympathetic. "Listen ... you're not going to win her over with notes, okay? Or, for that matter, with expensive gifts and flowers, because I know that's probably the next thing you're going to try. It helps, sure, but it's not the most important part. You have to find out what she likes. What kind of things she's into. What she wants out of life. You need to get to know her, and let her know you."
"I already know her. I've seen her soul. It is beautiful and fierce, a proper soul for a dragon's mate. What else do I need to know?"
"Oh, my God." Ben rubbed his temple. "Okay, so when is her birthday?"
"I fail to see what that has to do with—"
"Her favorite flavor of cake? Favorite animal? Favorite color? Foods she won't eat?"
"Do you expect me to believe that you can produce all of these facts about Tessa on a moment's notice?"
"November twelve," Ben said. "German chocolate. Cats. Blue-green. Brussels sprouts and bubble-gum-flavored ice cream. Is there anything else you want to ask me about her? Favorite band, the best Christmas present she ever got, where she wants to go on vacation, what she hopes our daughter's first words are? Yes, Dad, I know all of those things about her, because I love her, and that's what you do with people you love. At least ..." He took a breath. "That's what most people do. I bet you can't tell me any of those things for me or Melody, either."
"Your sister's birthday is March 9th," Darius said with triumph.
"Yeah? When's mine?"
It was definitely a month that started with J. "Ju ..." Darius began cautiously, on the general principle that there was at least a 66% chance he was on the right track.
"It's January 27th, Dad." Ben sounded ... weary. Just that, just an old and deep weariness that went down to the bottom of his soul and made him sound older than he really was.
Now Darius truly did feel guilty. He hadn't been a good father. And he had a very bad feeling that he wasn't getting off to much of a start at being a good mate.
"I do know one thing about Loretta," he ventured. "Her favorite color is yellow."
"Really? Well, that's a start. That's actually good. Keep that up."
The door of the cabin opened, and Tessa came out onto the porch. She was wearing sweat pants and what looked like one of Ben's T-shirts, much too big for her. A baby in footie pajamas was draped over her shoulder. And she was looking across the yard at Darius with a deeply accusing expression.
"Well, son," Darius said hastily, "best be getting back to the mansion—"
"Oh no you don't!" Tessa called, fixing him with a glare that felt like being nailed down with a harpoon. As she picked her way barefoot across the yard, Darius tried to think why that seemed so familiar, and then he realized it was just about exactly how Loretta had been looking at him after he'd told her they were meant to be together forever.
These two women, he decided, must never, ever meet.
"Sorry, hon," Ben said when she was close enough. He put an arm around her and kissed her forehead.
"You don't owe me an apology. You can't pick your family, and I don't hold you responsible for this mannerless clod." She gave Darius a sweet smile. "Skye's teething, and we were up with her all night. Since she's now awake again, how would you like to spend some quality time with your grandchild?"
"Er ..." he began, but he had no choice: Skye Melody Keegan had just been deposited into his arms. She stared up at him, wrinkling her little nose. Darius stared down at her.
Ben patted him on the back. "Have fun babysitting, Dad."
"Wait!" Darius tried to juggle the baby in his arms into a position that was more comfortable for both of them. "I can't babysit. I am in the middle of something!"
Ben still had his arm around his mate; he turned her around and steered her toward the house. "It can only help," he said over his shoulder. "Women love men with babies, I've heard."
"Some women do," Darius muttered, looking down at his infant granddaughter, who had settled down in a contented kind of way.
Did Loretta even like children? She worked with them, so she must. Perhaps this would work out after all.
"How would you like to help me out, little one?" he asked the baby.
Skye gurgled cheerfully.
"Yes, that's what I thought. I have a job for you. Do you want to help me woo my mate?"
"Maaaa!" the baby said.
"Er ... yes. Exactly."
Darius shifted with a great deal more care than usual, transitioning gradually to an upright posture in his dragon shape, sitting on his back legs with the baby held in his enormous forepaws. One paw was adequate, but he put the other on top of her to make sure the wind didn't blow her out of his grasp, and then he beat down with his huge wings. In a draft that toppled the pea trellis and sent the tomato pots rolling around wildly, he took off with his granddaughter in his gentle, clawed grip.
***
"Um, Tessa ..." Ben said, as the two of them stood on the lawn, looking up at the dwindling speck of his father against the sky. "Did you know he was going to do that?"
"He won't let Skye get hurt. I wouldn't have given him to her if I didn't trust him with her." Despite the certainty in her voice, Tessa was frowning somewhat, looking up at the sky.
"He didn't take diapers or anything to feed her."
"Yes, I noticed that. Well, let's keep our phones handy in case of a panicked call an hour or two from now."
Ben sighed and kissed her forehead. "So much for some quality baby-free time."
Tessa laced her arms around his neck. "How about some quality time helping me put the pea trellis back up?"
"Sounds ... fantastic."
She stood on tiptoe and leaned in to nibble at his ear. "And maybe then the other quality time can commence."
"You have a way of being persuasive, my love." He kissed the corner of her mouth.
"On second thought," she murmured as he trailed a string of kisses across her jaw and down the side of her neck, "... the peas will be fine for a little while."
Chapter Six: Loretta
It was her second shower of the day, but who was counting? Funny how a good long while under a hot spray that never slackened or turned abruptly cold could do wonders for a girl's mood. Loretta experimented with the scented shampoos and body wash options displayed around the shower; after Darius dragged her all the way out here, wherever she was, he owed her that.
Getting clean made her feel better toward her host. It was a lot easier to feel good about Darius when he wasn't there being all ... Darius in your face. When he wasn't talking, it was much easier to remember how good-looking he was, not just physical attractiveness but what she could only think of as a kind of charismatic animal magnetism; she'd never been around anyone who drew her that way. And the way he'd wrapped her in his jacket when he'd seen she was cold, the warmth of it around her shoulders ...
She tried to shake off the warm feeling in her chest by reminding herself that his jacket was currently all she had to wear when she got out of the shower, and she still didn't know if her apartment had survived the fire. Not that it'd be much of a loss if not. But all her stuff was there.
When the fun of playing with expensive scented soaps began to run out, Loretta stepped carefully to the pristine tiled floor and wrapped herself in one of Darius's huge, fluffy towels. She'd left the phone on the edge of the sink. It hadn't rung once while she was showering, at least not that she'd noticed. Darius must not give out his number to very many people.
She picked it up. The lock screen image was a serene picture of mountains, which she thought might be the mountains they'd flown over getting here. She put in the code and the image faded into another mountain picture with Darius's icons on top of it. For a guy who turned into a dragon, he had a very prosaic phone desktop. It was just the usual stuff everybody had, a web browser and Facebook and that kind of thing, and a couple of phone games. See
ing the Angry Birds icon made her smile, remembering how her cousins' kids had made fun of her last Christmas because she still played it. Nice to see she wasn't the only one who was a little behind the times.
She knew she was snooping, but she couldn't help wondering what kind of things a dragon billionaire looked at on Facebook. She tapped the icon.
The first thing that came up on Facebook was ... a picture of cats?
Kittens, actually—gray and black ones, adorable little balls of fluff. It was posted in a cat rescue group. Loretta cooed quietly to herself. She'd always wished pets were allowed in her building; it was one of the things she missed about living in the trailer park. Her whole family had always had animals, and she'd loved playing with her cousins' dogs when she was back home for Christmas.
She glanced around her at the immaculate room with a slight smile. This certainly wasn't the kind of place you'd have a pet, even if no one could tell you not to. Or if there were animals here, they were probably purebred and snow white, with an entire staff of attendants to keep them washed and brushed.
She scrolled down below the cat picture and found ... another cat picture. This was from a different pet rescue group. Under that was a personal post, a picture of a beautiful little girl with wide gray-brown eyes and caramel-colored skin, her hair done up in little plastic clips shaped like butterflies. She was sitting on the floor with a bunch of pieces of some kind of wooden puzzle around her, glimmering bright gold and blue. The baby had one of the puzzle pieces clutched in a tiny fist and was chewing on it enthusiastically.
Darius was tagged in this post, and the text (posted by someone named Tessa) began: She loved the puzzles - thanks! I think she's a little young for putting them together, but she really likes eating them. And we found a good home for the alpaca. We appreciate the thought, but next time maybe ask before giving large ungulates to a six-month-old—
Abrupt guilt overcame her, and Loretta quickly closed Facebook and turned off the phone's screen. What was she doing, prying into Darius's life? Of course he had family and friends, apparently ones with kids—
(An alpaca?)
—but the point was, she didn't want to violate the trust he'd placed in her. She was nosy, it was true. Ask anybody. But if she was going to find out more about Darius—and she really wanted to; the man was a fascinating puzzle—she'd need to do it like a grownup: by asking him questions.
And possibly snooping around his mansion a bit.
That wasn't private.
And she'd always wanted to see the inside of a mansion ...
A sudden knock at the door made her jump. The phone slipped from her fingers and clattered into the sink.
"Coming!" she called, snugging the towel more tightly around herself. It was so huge that it covered her almost like a bathrobe. She took the phone with her, then realized she needed a hand for the towel and another to unlock the door, and dropped it on the immaculate bedspread.
"Darius—" she began as she opened the door.
It wasn't Darius. It was a woman a little older than Loretta, wearing a maid's uniform. At first glance she looked round and matronly, but that was only if you didn't notice her ramrod-straight posture and the muscles in her forearms, not to mention the confident way she carried herself. If this woman wasn't former military, she was definitely a black belt in something.
"The boss said to bring you something to wear," the woman said, unsmiling. She came in without asking and laid a bundle of neatly folded clothing on the bed. "Do you need anything else?"
"Oh, uh. No, thank you." And because her momma hadn't raised her to be rude, Loretta added, "This place is very beautiful, and so well kept. Thank you. I just used some of the soaps, which I hope is all right, and I don't really know what to do with the towel, but you just tell me where to put it and I'll try to leave the room as good as I found it, okay?"
The woman looked surprised, and then slowly one corner of her flat mouth turned up in a trace of a smile. "You're the boss's guest," she said. "Just leave the towel in the bathroom. You can use the room however you like. Everything in here is for your use."
"Well sure, but that's no cause to go being rude about it. You do a really fine job keeping up the place and I don't want to make more work for you."
"It's no trouble, but I appreciate the thought." She hesitated, then said, "I'm Malva, by the way."
"Loretta. Thanks again for the hospitality." Loretta wondered what Darius's servants—servants!—must think of her, showing up with no clothes in nothing but his jacket, and now stepping out of the shower. Malva hadn't even batted an eye, which made her wonder uncomfortably if this sort of thing was a common occurrence around here, or if Darius picked his employees for their unflappable qualities.
"You need anything, just call downstairs." Malva pointed to a phone on a small stand by the wall. Loretta hadn't even noticed it; it was a white antique with a high, arched handset and a rotary dial. "That doesn't dial outside, it's just internal. Press 9 for Housekeeping or 6 for the kitchen."
Malva turned around briskly and left before Loretta could ask if the other numbers did anything.
She went over to the phone and picked up the fancy handset. It made her feel like an actress in an old black-and-white movie. There was a dial tone and everything. She dialed 6.
A woman's voice answered on the first ring. "Kitchen."
"Oh. Uh. I'm sorry. I was just ... checking." She hung up quickly, cheeks flaming.
Well, now that you've made them think you were raised in a barn, Loretta, let's see what kind of clothes they brought for you, huh?
Malva, or whoever had selected the clothing, had been very thorough. There was underwear neatly sealed in plastic—the bra was half a size too big, but Loretta was impressed that it was as close as it was—and a hairbrush and toiletries in a ziploc baggie. There was also a pair of low-heeled and sensible-looking white shoes. Underneath all of that ...
"Ohhhh." It came out as a soft sigh as she shook out the skirt. It was a deep gold, not quite her favorite shade of yellow, but surprisingly close. The pleats shimmered with burnished highlights and deep bronze shadows. It looked like silk. It might actually be silk.
There was a white blouse to go with it, a little too large in the chest (like the bra) and a little too tight in the shoulders and short in the sleeves, which made her aware that she was probably wearing someone else's clothing. But it fit adequately, and it was better than a towel. She found a hair dryer in the bathroom, and some hair products too, so she blew out her mass of red hair, drying it from the dark auburn color it had when wet, to its normal vividness.
She had always liked her hair. Who cared if the other girls at school teased her, calling her Firetruck and Pippi. She thought her hair was her best feature, and it was just starting to turn gray, a few silver threads twined into the red mass.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she thought the white shirt did look really nice with all that red hair. It'd be nice if she had maybe a lipstick—she liked to wear bright red lipstick, because otherwise her lips looked washed out next to the hair and her naturally ruddy, freckle-dusted complexion—but this was better than okay. She still didn't look like someone who belonged in a place like this, but at least she didn't look like a refugee.
She wished Darius was here to see it. She'd like him to see that she could look like something other than a bedraggled mess in a towel. She gave a little spin, making the gold skirt stand out, and smiled at herself. It wasn't her sunflower blouse and favorite yellow stretch pants, but it was pretty. And probably cost more than her entire wardrobe, which she had bought mainly at Walmart.
Where had Darius gone, anyway?
Being dressed made her feel a little more confident. She put on the shoes, which were about half a size too small; it was obvious that the woman these clothes belonged to was heavier but shorter than Loretta herself. But they were close enough to work. She glanced at the white and gold phone on its stand, thought about calling for someone to give he
r directions, then realized that she had no idea where she wanted to go. What she really wanted to do was find Darius, but she'd forgotten to ask Malva.
The skirt, wonder of wonders, had pockets; this place really did have everything. She tucked Darius's phone into a pocket and opened the door leading out into the hall.
If she'd been staggered by the suite, the hallway outside the door was even more stunning in its grandeur, actually so much that it was a little ridiculous. Who put twelve-foot ceilings in a hallway? The floor was so finely polished that it reflected her feet.
She walked quietly down the hall, her confidence wilting in the face of the lush opulence of her surroundings. Even in her borrowed silk skirt, this place made her feel small and shabby. There was just so much. Everywhere she turned, there was something new to look at: a painting, a sculpture, an antique, a shelf of finely made glasswork.
It was also a maze, and she was soon utterly, irrevocably lost. All the glittering hallways looked alike. Every once in awhile she came to tall windows looking out onto a beautifully landscaped garden a floor below her, but she couldn't figure out how to get there. She tried going down a staircase and found herself in some kind of dining room with dust covers over the immensely long table and chairs.
This place was exhausting. She couldn't think how Darius could bear it. There was nowhere to rest her eyes in the endless parade of gilded archways, gleaming sculptures, and huge paintings dominating the walls. She had yet to meet a single human being. Once she smelled cooking smells and thought she might be near the kitchen, but when she went that way, she instead found her way to windows overlooking a different view—the valley with the lake down the middle of it—and realized she'd gotten turned around and was on the entire wrong side of the house. Half the doors she found were locked; the other half opened into more suites like hers. There was no sign of occupation, and she wondered where Darius's employees lived, or whether there were other guests. It was like being in a movie set.