Page 12 of Shifting the Flame
"It's going to be dangerous though," he blurted, then immediately regretted it.
"Dangerous? It's a town festival, not a monster truck rally." She tilted her head, studying him curiously. "Unless you're planning to set the maypole on fire?"
Asher moved closer, unable to help himself. "What I mean is... people around me tend to get caught in complicated situations."
"Like almost getting crushed by falling archways?" She smiled wryly. "Good thing you were there today."
"I'll always be there," he promised, the intensity in his voice surprising even him.
Asher saw the flicker in her eyes and heard the slight catch in her breath at his words. His dragon rumbled with satisfaction. She wasn't immune to him.
He cleared his throat and stepped back, suddenly aware of how close they stood. "For the festival planning, I mean. This week. I'll be there to help you with preparations."
"Good," Danica replied, recovering quickly and jutting her chin up. "Because we're going to need all hands on deck. And you need to be attentive and not procrastinate anymore."
Heat rushed to Asher's face—a sensation so foreign he almost didn't recognize it. No one in Ectorius dared speak to him that way. Not his council, not his staff, certainly not anyone in his clutch. As Alpha, his word and action were law. Yet here stood this five-foot-five human woman, challenging him as if she had every right to do so.
And damn it all, his dragon loved it.
"I don't procrastinate," he countered, guiding her behind his desk with a light touch at her lower back. "I strategize."
"Is that what we're calling it?" Her eyes glinted with amusement as she slid into the chair he pulled up beside his.
The space behind his desk wasn't designed for two. Their shoulders brushed as they settled in, and Asher caught the faintest hint of her scent. His dragon inhaled deeply, committing it to memory.
"Let me show you what I've got so far." He flipped through the massive three-ring binder with his scattered notes and printouts.
Danica's eyes widened. "That's... comprehensive."
"That's very diplomatic." He couldn't help smiling. "Go ahead, say what you're thinking."
"It's a hot mess," she admitted, flipping through the pages of half-formed ideas and unanswered vendor emails. "But there's potential here."
For the next several hours, they dove into planning, and Asher found himself both frustrated and fascinated by her approach. When she suggested bright jewel-toned tents instead of the traditional white canvas ones the festival had used for generations, he balked.
"The white tents are traditional," he insisted. "They've been part of the Founders Festival since the beginning."
"Traditional doesn't have to mean boring," Danica countered, sketching quick color swatches in her notebook. "Imagine emerald green, sapphire blue, and rich purple tents, with LED fairy lights woven through the tops after dark."
"Fairy lights?" Asher frowned. The irony wasn't lost on him—dragons discussing fairy lights.
"Trust me, the effect is magical." Her fingers brushed his arm as she turned to her tablet, pulling up examples. "See? It transforms the whole space."
The pictures were admittedly stunning, but Asher's resistance ran deeper than aesthetics. This was his clutch's heritage, and his responsibility to uphold.
"We'll consider it," he said noncommittally, turning the page to the food vendors.
"You've only got three food stalls listed," Danica noted. "A funnel cake stand, lemonade, and—what's this? 'Family food contributions'?"
"The clutch families always bring their traditional dishes to share," Asher explained. "It's part of our?—"
"Wait." Danica's hand landed on his arm, warm and disruptive. "Let me get this straight. You're making your own townspeople cook for your festival? The same people who are supposed to be celebrating?"
"It's tradition," Asher defended, bristling at her tone. "Every family contributes their specialties."
"And who gets to enjoy the festival while everyone's stuck behind serving tables?" She arched an eyebrow, challenging him directly.
No one in his entire life had ever questioned his judgment this bluntly. His dragon bristled, but something else stirredbeneath the surface—respect. She saw problems he'd been blind to, and questioned traditions he'd never thought to examine.
