A Boy and His Dragon (10 page)

“It’s groceries!” he yelled up at Bertie a second later, waiting and watching the driver’s eyes go past him again. There was too much interest in his expression, especially considering that when Arthur half twisted to see what he was staring at, he didn’t see Bertie. He
did
see a big house in a nice neighborhood, a big house that could have been hiding all the gold in Fort Knox under a thick blanket of dust. Even without a dragon in it, the house would have been worth a look.
With
a dragon, it was a dragon’s lair, and when people pictured dragons, the first thing they pictured, the first thing even Arthur had pictured, was a dragon’s hoard.

Arthur’s chest seemed to tighten. His stomach knotted. If Drew wasn’t looking for a dragon, then he was looking for the dragon’s treasure. He stiffened just as Bertie shouted his answer.

“Oh, is that Ravi? I left the money and his tip on the fridge.

Tell him his mother’s soup recipe was superb.” Arthur frowned as he considered reminding Bertie that if Ravi
had
been there, he would have heard that just fine. He also frowned at Drew, who was still peeking around him. It wasn’t a hard thing for him to do; he was at least a head taller than Arthur.

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Arthur held out his hands for the crate but otherwise didn’t shift from his spot. “I’ll take it.”

“We’re supposed to drop it off inside the house,” Drew insisted without budging, and Arthur looked up into his eyes. Drew had the face of a storybook knight too. He probably knew it. People like that usually did and acted as if the world was theirs for the taking.

If Arthur hadn’t been here, Bertie probably would have invited Drew in without checking to see if it was his friend Ravi or not.

Arthur didn’t know Ravi or how friendly he was with Bertie, but he did know Drew, or people like him, and Drew was not stepping foot inside this house. No way.

Arthur kept his hands up. He delivered too, and he couldn’t imagine that everyone wanted strange drivers inside their homes.

“I’ve got it. It’s fine.” It was possible Arthur was making a big deal out of nothing, but if it
was
something, then this
had
to be part of his job description, somewhere. And if not, then he still owed Bertie for the spaghetti.

He took the crate and hid a small, surprised grunt at the weight, a weight explained by the milk and clinking bottles of wine all on one side, a weight that Drew hadn’t even seemed to notice, though he was noticing Arthur’s reaction to it. His mouth turned up in a smirk.

Arthur started to turn away. Bertie’s voice stopped him.

“I’ll be down in a moment, Arthur dear. I’m having some difficulty with my pants.”

Arthur looked back at Drew, though he was very aware of the increase of heat in his cheeks that meant he was blushing. Drew was considering him with his eyebrows raised, as if that had surprised him.

“Stay there. I’ll be back with your money,” Arthur snapped at him, at that smirk that said Drew thought he understood everything about what Arthur was doing there and everything Arthur felt.

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His answer was a low whistle and a “Take your time, Arthur dear.”

As if Arthur was going to take his time after that. He used his foot to kick the door shut and then went down the little hall so he wouldn’t have to push open any doors. He deposited the food unceremoniously on the island in the center of the kitchen, then snatched the crate and the envelope of money and went back to the front door.

Drew had his mouth open to say something, but he stumbled back when Arthur shoved the crate at him, and while he regained his footing, Arthur looked at the invoice and pulled out the right amount of cash.

“Where is Ravi anyway?” Considering how hot his face was, Arthur thought his question was remarkably cool, but Drew’s lips went up in another smirk.

“Out sick, so I thought I’d help him out, take care of that nice, generous dragon he always talks about.”
Nice, generous dragon
. It didn’t sound like a compliment when Drew said it; it sounded like a weakness, and it summed up Drew’s intentions. Either he was here to befriend Bertie for his money or just to take it.

Arthur thought it might be better, safer for Bertie, if he would try to act as scary and mean as dragons were supposed to be. But Arthur knew it was much more likely that Bertie would have welcomed Drew into his home and tipped him too much and chatted with him and found him as ridiculously good-looking as he was.

“Ravi sounds great.” Arthur’s voice was clipped, and if Drew now thought that Arthur was after Bertie too, his tone wasn’t helping. This guy wasn’t coming anywhere near Bertie if Arthur had anything to say about it. “I look forward to meeting him,” he went on and left Drew the change but kept the rest of the tip in the envelope and closed the door. He didn’t realize that he was as tense as he was until he turned around and saw Bertie watching him from the foot of the stairs.

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He had pants on. Arthur wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not to see the sweatpants with what looked like a brand new tear on one knee.

“It wasn’t Ravi,” he explained shortly, struggling to calm down. He couldn’t believe he’d done that. He knew personally how important tips were. He really shouldn’t have refused to tip Drew.

He definitely shouldn’t have been rude to Bertie’s delivery driver.

He was supposed to be apologizing today. Not that he could ever have imagined
Drew
.

“Of course not. Ravi wouldn’t ever try to come inside my home without my permission.” Bertie took a few slow steps with his gaze still focused on Arthur. His voice was lower than usual.

Arthur took a deep breath because he’d just slammed a door in someone’s face for acting too interested in this house and smirking at him, and as stupid as that was, he was still flushed and wound up.

“Ravi’s out sick.”

He was almost as agitated as he’d been after punching his sister’s boyfriend, his one and only adult act of violence. His hand had been sore for days afterward.

“Do you want me to put your groceries away?” Arthur skipped around the subject of Drew and moved toward the kitchen without waiting.

“Arthur.” Bertie just came into the kitchen after him, using the other doors but stopping once inside. He turned on the lights while Arthur put the envelope back. Arthur opened the refrigerator, since he at least knew where the milk had to go, but Bertie kept talking.

“Arthur, there are many who don’t like dragons, or any Beings.

There are others who think of us as creatures to be used. They are like any other ignorant people or group of bullies in the world.” Arthur put away the milk, then took a moment to line up a carton of brown eggs with a package of butter. He didn’t answer.

“You don’t need to do that, Arthur,” Bertie spoke up behind him. Arthur chose believe Bertie was referring to the groceries and not the person who delivered them and how Arthur had kicked him R. Cooper

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out, so he shrugged. He grabbed a paper-wrapped loaf of bread that smelled like sourdough.

He moved aside some butter, found the fridge’s meat compartment, and added in pound after pound of fresh meat. He noted the meat as something to think about later; he wasn’t in the mood to consider the typical dragon diet right now.

“Are you going to reorganize my cabinets too?” Bertie took the bread and slid away to pop it in a breadbox. Arthur looked up from a basket of fat mushrooms. Bertie raised his hands. “Not that I’m sure they don’t need it.”

“I’m not.” Arthur bit his lip and lowered his voice. “I’m not anal retentive or anything. I just….”

“Prefer that things be there when you need them.” Bertie made a gentle
tut
sound. “It’s fine, pet.” The warmth in his voice was enough to get Arthur hotter. He picked up a tiny glass jar marked “Saffron” but had to pause to look around. He had no idea where it went. He hadn’t even known what it was until he read the label.

“Here.” Bertie deftly slipped it from between his fingers and came around him to demonstrate where he kept his spices. He opened a cabinet, dug around for a moment, put the saffron in its place, or more likely,
any
place, and then froze before Arthur could suggest a spice rack to keep things neat. “
Arthur
.” The strained note made Arthur carefully sniff the air for anything unusual, but he could smell nothing but a musty spice scent from the cabinet and the lingering odor of sourdough.

“Arthur,” Bertie repeated with greater urgency. Arthur came forward, staring hard at Bertie and then inside the cabinet until he saw a small brown spider sitting on a cloud of webbing.

He blinked, taking in Bertie’s posture and realizing that he was frozen with fear.
Fear
. He couldn’t believe it.

“It’s just a little spider, or are you scared of….” He couldn’t finish the sentence because a fearsome dragon of ancient and noble lineage shouldn’t be afraid of anything, certainly not a spider.

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“Just get it out! Out!” Bertie gestured at the door so fast that Arthur couldn’t duck in time and almost got smacked in the face. He backed up to save himself and to get some paper towels, but when he came back Bertie shouted again. “No, don’t kill it, just take it outside!”

“I wasn’t going to kill it,” Arthur huffed back, not that there was any use in arguing, not with Bertie scurrying to the opposite side of the kitchen as Arthur picked up the spider with the paper towel.

He took the little guy out the back way and left him on a stack of firewood, all the while thinking that Drew would have been surprised to see a dragon panicking over a spider. Then he took a moment in the cold air to calm down and think about that.

Maybe it was better that people thought dragons were fearless.

Maybe they were less likely to hurt them that way, not like they would if they learned dragons had the same quirks and phobias as humans. Unless all that had been unique to Bertie, but Arthur didn’t think so.

He locked the door behind him and tossed the paper towels into the bathroom as he passed it. Bertie was still in the kitchen.

“You know, my sister is scared of spiders too,” Arthur began as he came back in. “And it’s funny because—”

“My hero!” Bertie swept forward so fast that Arthur couldn’t have stepped aside if he wanted to. For a second a hot, hot dragon was wrapped around him and breathlessly expressing his gratitude into his ear. “Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur stuttered something in return—he had no idea what—

and then Bertie straightened and pulled back to study him.

“If you hadn’t been here I would have been afraid to go in that cabinet for
weeks
.” He gave a pleased sigh when Arthur rubbed at his stinging face. His next words were rumbling and indecently sexy. “Arthur MacArthur, my champion.”

“Assistant,” Arthur corrected without thinking, too quietly to be taken seriously. Bertie didn’t.

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“Feel free to get rid of as many pests as you deem fit,” he continued, still so pleased with Arthur, or himself, that Arthur turned to watch him deal with the mushrooms and some bell peppers.

“I don’t… that isn’t….” Arthur had never fumbled this much until he came to work here. “Is a fear of spiders normal? For dragons I mean.” He changed the subject clumsily and didn’t care.

“Like elephants and mice?”

“Arthur, I doubt an elephant would even notice a mouse.” Bertie was keeping his eyes on the vegetables. “As for whether it’s normal… I would simply
prefer
to never have to touch one of those nasty little buggers ever again, if it’s at all possible.” When Bertie shuddered, Arthur sagged against the wall and exhaled. He reflected on that statement for a moment and then nodded. He didn’t think Bertie was terrified of spiders, but he didn’t think Bertie liked having them around either. And as for the rest, what Bertie had been insinuating since following Arthur into the kitchen was that
Arthur
was the one who had stepped up to kick Drew out, and he had done it all on his own. Bertie just wanted to let him off the hook, so Arthur should forget all that “champion” stuff and get back to work.

But he paused because he didn’t really need to help put food away, and he still hadn’t apologized for falling asleep.

“Did you want me to organize your cabinets?” he offered, to make up for that and because those cabinets needed it. Bertie lifted his head.

“Did you want to? I am sure you have enough to do.” He seemed to consider it, and then his smile disappeared. “Or do you?

Is that why you’re picking fights with hulking brutes?”

“I wasn’t picking a fight,” Arthur argued before he could think better of it, though he felt a small part of his tension leave him to hear Drew described as a “hulking brute.” “I didn’t like the way he was looking around, and then he lied. I bet there’s no rule saying he has to come in.”

“No, I don’t believe there is,” Bertie answered, inclining his head toward Arthur so carefully that Arthur abruptly realized how A Boy and His Dragon

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crazy he must sound. As if a dragon needed his protection. Bertie might seem helpless sometimes, but he wasn’t. He was sharper than most people and came with his own weapons built right in.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur apologized instantly. “Of course you could have handled that…,” he started but trailed off at the return of a familiar grin. He gulped when Bertie added a wink.

“You didn’t like the look of him. I didn’t care for the smell of him. We all have our instincts, Arthur. Let’s just call it even. Not that it wasn’t gallant of you. I’m still picturing you with a sword, or perhaps on a white charger, bedecked in my colors.” Arthur forced his hands to relax and open up, and forcefully redirected his thoughts away from imagining what Bertie was describing.

“Just consider pest removal another service I offer,” he joked quietly but waited until Bertie grinned again before he went on.

“And anything else you might need me to do.” Bertie’s smile disappeared so suddenly that Arthur almost looked around for another spider.