A Mate for the Christmas Dragon Read online

  “You know, Carol, that is so true.” Abigail’s smile was starting to freeze.

  “This is my last late shift before Christmas, thank God.” Carol hooked another candy cane over the store’s Christmas tree. It had started the day fully stocked, but had been stripped bare to waist-height by hordes of hungry children. And above-waist-height by all the adults who didn’t want to miss out on free candy. “Really, Abigail, thank you so much for volunteering. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to work extra... Are you saving up to buy something for someone special?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Abigail murmured non-commitally.

  There was no way she was going to tell bubbly, friendly Carol the truth. The extra shifts weren’t about saving up for anything. More like saving herself from something— and that something, ironically enough, was Christmas.

  Carol made a show of looking at her watch. “Well, he should be here soon, anyway.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Your someone special, silly!” Carol thwapped her with a candy cane. “I saw Mr. Bell hurry you away before you could finish talking with him, so I nipped out and let him know when your shift ended.”

  “You mean Jasper?” Abigail’s skin tingled.

  “Oh, is that his name? He is gorgeous, isn’t he? Honestly, if I didn’t have my Matt at home, I would have half a mind to steal him off you. Mind you, my children would probably kick up a fuss. And the grandchildren, bless them.” Carol placed her final candy cane on the tree and sighed happily. “There, that’s done. Anything else on the checklist?”

  “Huh? Oh, um...” Abigail grabbed the clipboard and stared at it. She was so off-kilter, she didn’t even roll her eyes at the words along the top of the page: Check it twice! Did everything need to be a reference to a carol or Christmas story? “We cashed up already, so it’s just setting the timer on the lights, and locking up.”

  She hardly heard herself. Her mind felt like it was full of cotton wool. Jasper? Here? End of my shift? But that’s now!

  She looked down at herself. Carol, who was a legitimate sweetheart, had lent her a Christmas sweater to cover the wet stain on her work outfit. It covered the stain all right, but it also looked like it had been knitted out of tinsel. She looked like something Rudolph had thrown up.

  And she didn’t have a change of clothes.

  She’d been planning to go straight home, strip off, and collapse into a dead sleep until half an hour before the start of her next shift. Her usual Christmas season routine. Her system.

  Her system worked. But it had never, ever had to make space for anyone else in it before. Let alone a handsome man like Jasper, whose chest she could still almost feel pressing against her own. Whose arms...

  Someone knocked on the front window. Abigail turned around, ready to tell them to come back in the morning, and stopped with her mouth open. Jasper was standing outside, two steaming takeaway cups in his hands and an enchanting smile on his face.

  “Oh, no,” Abigail muttered under her breath.

  Carol tapped her on the arm. “You go, hon. I’ll finish up here. It’s the least I could do, with you taking all those extra shifts.”

  “I, uh.” Abigail’s brain scrambled for words. “I’ll just be one minute!”

  She waved to Jasper, and darted out the back. Her bag was hanging on its hook in the staff corner like always, but that wasn’t what she was looking for. Abigail fought her way past a pile of flattened cardboard boxes and tangled webs of tinsel. She was sure it was here somewhere—

  “Aha!” She cried out in triumph and held the dress aloft. It wasn’t haute couture, and she wouldn’t look half as good in it as the blonde woman had looked in her cute little winter outfit… but at least it wasn’t an elf costume.

  CHAPTER 3

  Jasper

  Jasper blinked as Abigail stepped out onto the sidewalk. She looked beautiful, of course. Her hair peeked out from under a navy-blue beanie, and her winter coat was sensible, long and quilted in a matching navy. But he hadn’t been expecting what he could see under it.

  “What happened to the tinsel sweater?” he asked, trying not to sound disappointed. He’d glimpsed it through the window, a gloriously silly confection of gold and red and green sparkles. And, of course, the candy-stripe stockings underneath her tunic…

  “That monstrosity?” Abigail bit her lip guiltily and looked back into the shop. Her co-worker gave her the thumbs-up. “Uh, Carol let me borrow it for the rest of my shift. It’s not mine.”

  Jasper frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re still wearing the elf dress, then. You’ll freeze out here.”

  “Oh, it’s mostly dried out by now. But don’t worry, I’m not going to wear that ridiculous thing on a d—” Abigail broke off, her cheeks blazing. Inside him, Jasper’s dragon flexed its wings smugly. “Uh, um. Anyway. I found this out back.”

  She unzipped her coat and held it open. Jasper’s eyes widened. Wow.

  “Let me guess,” he said, unable to tear his eyes away. “Something else leftover from Halloween?”

  Abigail laughed out loud. The sound sent fireworks off in his brain. “Very Morticia Addams, right? And a bit more suitable for a… night out than some dinky elf costume.” The corner of her mouth twitched down, too quickly and too small a movement for it to be intentional.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I liked the costume. Especially the hat.” Not that he didn’t like the figure-hugging, floor-length black dress she had on now. Wow.

  “Well, I’m sorry to break it to you. The hat is for shop hours only.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to come back and see you tomorrow.”

  She shrugged, but a smile fought its way onto her lips. “It’s your funeral.”

  A tremor struck Jasper. He forced a laugh, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Because she was right. If she didn’t accept him before his birthday, it would be the end of him. Human, or dragon. One way or the other, part of him would cease to exist.

  “Well, so much for my tomorrow plans,” he said breezily. “As for tonight…” He let the sentence fade away. Abigail looked up at him, her eyes bright but wary. “As for tonight, and our d— night out…”

  “Oh, stop it,” she complained, shoving her hands into her pockets and ducking her head.

  “As for our date, because I am taking you on a date— I think it’s the least you owe me for saving your life, by the way— I thought I’d start by buying you a drink. Here.” He handed her one of the takeaway cups.

  She took it, and happiness unfurled inside him. His first gift to her, and she’d accepted it.

  “What is this?”

  “I’ll be honest,” Jasper said, peeking under the lid of his own cup, “I’m not entirely sure. I asked for standard egg nog, but my nephew started whispering to the barista while I was paying, and now I’m noticing the distinct smell of…” He sniffed.

  “Mint?” Abigail took a sip. “And…”

  “Orange.” Jasper looked at her. “I am so, so sorry.”

  She took another gulp. “No, it’s, um. Ooh.” She grimaced, and then shrugged. “Well, it’s definitely not Christmassy.”

  His heart twisted. He should have checked before he brought them over. She was going to reject it, and it was his fault.

  Abigail met his eyes. “You know what? I’ve been on my feet all day, except for a brief period of flying through the air, and this might be— interesting— but, the hell with it.” She upended the cup and drained the rest of the drink, swallowing with another grimace. “Yum. How old is your nephew, by the way?”

  “Cole. He’s four.”

  She nodded, staring into the bottom of her cup. “Makes sense. Also, there’s half a candy cane in the bottom of this, so that explains the mint.” She nodded at his cup. “Come on— bottoms up!”

  Jasper swigged back the mint-orange nog, every atom of his body singing. She’d accepted it. It was terrible, and he made a mental note not to let Cole near the kitchen unsupervised while Christmas prep was happening, but—
r />   “Bleugh,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I would say it grows on you, but…”

  “It really doesn’t?” She laughed. “Hey, you missed a bit.”

  Jasper held still as she reached up and brushed her thumb against the corner of his mouth. Her touch was electric.

  She paused, eyes wide, as though her hand had moved ahead of her brain, and her mind was only just realizing what she’d done. Jasper took advantage of her hesitation. He turned his head, and kissed the smear of orange-mint-nog off her thumb.

  “Mmm,” he murmured. “You know, maybe it isn’t so bad. Could be a new Christmas tradition.”

  Abigail’s eyes shuttered. “Pff,” she snorted. “Sweet, fake and disgusting? Sure, sounds like Christmas to me.” She pulled her hand away and shoved it deep into her pocket.

  Jasper’s heart sank. “That’s right. You’re not a huge fan of Christmas, huh?”

  “Not so much.” Abigail’s voice was crisp.

  “There’s nothing about it that you like? Not even Christmas trees?” She shook her head. “Stockings? Candy canes? Snow? Egg nog?”

  Abigail laughed. “I think I prefer your nephew’s version.” She hesitated, and then burst out: “I mean, it’s all fake, isn’t it? At least that nog was genuinely terrible.”

  Jasper sagged. His mate didn’t like Christmas? But he was the Christmas dragon. And if she hated everything about the holiday season, how was he meant to win her over before his deadline?

  His connection with his dragon trembled. He rubbed his hands together, trying to hide the worry inside him.

  “So much for my big date plans,” he joked.

  “Plans?” Abigail blinked, and looked down at her empty takeaway cup. A line formed between her eyebrows. “I thought— I mean, you brought me this…”

  And you thought that was it? Jasper frowned. Inside him, his dragon hissed smoke. That was unacceptable. His mate deserved more than a terrible drink. She deserved to expect more from a date than a terrible drink.

  Not that she’s going to be dating anyone except me.

  Certainty settled around Jasper like a warm, fuzzy Christmas sweater. He was going to woo his mate. He had five days to make her the happiest woman in the world, and if she didn’t think this was the most wonderful time of the year… then he would have to win her over without relying on his Christmas charms. It couldn’t be that hard— right?

  “Come on,” he said, and slipped his hand under her elbow. “I’m going to take you to dinner.”

  * * *

  Dinner. Easy, right? Wrong. Everywhere Jasper looked, Christmas stared back at him. Carols filtered out through the streets. Restaurants advertised special, holiday-themed menus. And all the decorations. Tinsel. Fairy lights. Snowflakes, model sleighs, red-cheeked Santas and red-nosed Rudolphs…

  And Abigail’s hand in his.

  Oh, he’d started off holding her arm. Very gentlemanly and proper. But as they walked, he had slid his hand lower— lower— and, after all, she wasn’t wearing gloves, so it was only right that he helped her keep her hand warm, on a cold night like this…

  The moment his fingers had brushed up against hers, Abigail had leaned against him. Her face had lit up. And now they were walking together, so close they were almost tripping over each other’s feet, with her hand in his, tucked snugly into his coat pocket.

  They had been walking for almost an hour, up and down streets festooned with strings of lights and smelling of cinnamon and nutmeg. The air was crisp; Jasper was sure that by midnight, the paper snowflakes hanging in the street-front windows would be joined by real ice crystals growing at the corners of the glass. Any other night, he would have reveled in the Christmassy atmosphere. Tonight, though, he was looking for not Christmas.

  And he thought he had just found it.

  “There!”

  “Where?”

  Jasper pointed. They were at the edge of the residential part of town, where restaurants and shops made way for houses and low apartment buildings. The decorations were less intense, but more heart-warming— strings of streamers and cut-out Christmas scenes, handmade with love.

  Except for one house.

  Jasper pointed it out to Abigail. On the far corner of the next four-way intersection was a two-floor apartment building. The ground floor was sparkling with lights, but the top level was completely bare. No lights, no tinsel, no Santa decals, not the slightest hint of Christmas. Just a dark, plain apartment.

  “Voila!” Jasper swooped his pointing-finger through the air, drawing Abigail’s attention to the small restaurant opposite the Christmas-free zone. “See that table in the front window? The cunning orientation of the street signs, and that parked van? If we sit there, we won’t be able to see anything Christmassy. Just that one undecorated house, and the stars in the night sky.” He looked up. “Well, maybe not the stars, the streetlights are a bit bright for that. But we can imagine.”

  Abigail gave him a strange look, one eyebrow quirked up. “Really? Here?”

  Jasper huffed out his breath theatrically. “We could go back to that place on the last block— you remember, the one with the troupe of singing Santas…”

  Abigail shuddered. “No, it’s okay, it’s just this is…” She grinned impishly, squeezing his fingers. “This is fine, actually.”

  Luckily, the restaurant was still open, even though it was past eleven. Jasper inhaled deeply as he held the door open for his mate. His stomach growled. He had eaten dinner with Opal and Cole earlier, but that had been hours ago. “This place smells delicious. What is it?”

  “They do— I mean, it looks like they do Dutch food.” Abigail smiled, tucking in her lips like she was hiding a secret. “You know, I already had a sandwich on my dinner break. If you’re happy to just make this a dessert date…”

  “Yes. A hundred times yes.” His stomach growled again, louder this time. Abigail giggled. “Sooner rather than later. I think my stomach is ready to stage a rebellion after that nog.”

  Abigail tugged on his hand, leading him to the window table. “Wow, you’re right,” she said brightly as they sat down. “No decorations in sight. Good choice.”

  Jasper glanced around the inside of the restaurant. “So long as you keep looking outside,” he said, noting the rows of festive wreaths on the walls.

  “Got it.” Abigail smiled at him and his heart lit up. This was working. Everything was going to be fine. He had found his mate— and he would keep both parts of his soul. Both parts of him. He wouldn’t need to sacrifice anything. “So, what’ll you have?”

  Jasper tore his eyes away from her long enough to peer at the menu. “Everything,” he decided.

  * * *

  “These are delicious.” Jasper speared another poffertje, the bite-sized, buttery, puffy pancakes sprinkled with icing sugar. He held up his fork. “Have you tried them?”

  Abigail giggled through a mouthful of apple tart. She covered her mouth with her hand and swallowed before she replied. “Oh, only about twenty. So far. This evening.”

  Jasper waved his pancake-laden fork entreatingly and she rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, well, if you insist…”

  She lowered her hand. Cheeks pink, she opened her mouth.

  Her lips were red and soft. She licked them, and they glistened temptingly. Jasper’s heart ached. Five days.

  He carefully lifted the fork to her lips, and held back a groan as she pulled the tiny pancake off it with her teeth. She chewed it slowly, eyes closed, and then swallowed and licked her lips again. Oh, God.

  “You know,” she said consideringly, looking up at him from under lowered lashes, “I think that was the best of the lot.” She paused. “Was it the last one?”

  “Afraid so.” Jasper scanned the table. They’d ordered everything on the menu, and lingered over every bite, but now there was nothing left. Not even a crumb.

  He raised his eyes to the beautiful woman sitting opposite him. She had hung up her coat behind the door, and her curves were on f
ull display in the figure-hugging black Halloween dress. The neckline plunged deeper than he would have imagined appropriate for a work outfit, and— Oh, God— a few flecks of icing sugar had fallen onto Abigail’s cleavage, like a light dusting of snow. He clenched his hands on the edge of the table, resisting the urge to lean over and lick the sugar off.

  He didn’t want the night to end. Or if it had to, he wanted it to end with Abigail in his arms.

  Jasper bit back a heartfelt groan. He couldn’t take her home. His family lodge was hours away, up a long mountain road and… he didn’t have a car. Damn it.

  “I guess this is it.” Abigail’s voice was halting, as though she didn’t want their date to end, either. She glanced up at him, and her cheeks went pink.

  Jasper leaned forward. Maybe he couldn’t take her to bed tonight, but he could at least make his intentions clear. She’d been so surprised when he asked her out, and even more so when he turned up at the end of her shift. As though she hadn’t believed he would be there.

  He needed her to know that he would be there for her, every night for the rest of his life.

  Jasper slid one hand across the table towards Abigail. She glanced at it, startled, and then slowly reached out with her own hand. Her fingers closed over his tentatively and she looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

  She opened her mouth, and hesitated. Jasper waited as she swallowed hard, her fingers tightening over his.

  “I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” she said in an undertone, a line forming between her eyebrows. “All this— the drink, dinner, an actual date… This never happens to me.” She bit her lip and looked away, frowning at the table.

  “It’s happening now,” Jasper said softly.

  “You say that,” Abigail muttered, “but I’m still having trouble believing it.” She looked up at him. “This could all be some sort of retail-induced fever dream. Maybe I’m still behind the counter back at the shop, serving midnight customers.”