"Well, I, um, I really like the Boston Creme donuts and the apple cinnamon Danish but I don't really..." He looks at the brunette as she cashes out the last of the customers. "Posey? What goes good with a black French roast?"
Posey.
He called her Posey.
A small, fragrant and beautiful bouquet of flowers that I've come across on my travels through Europe while visiting other clans. They're vibrant yet understated; simple, yet each individual flower is unique and stunning, coming together to create a breathtaking combination that sparks awe and intrigue.
Her name is Posey and it's perfect.
She walks over a little hesitantly and takes a discrete, though deep breath before meeting my eyes. Posey looks me up and down again, but this time it's more analytical than appreciative.
She tilts her head to the side, scrunches up her adorable little nose then raises a slender finger to her lips. The action draws my attention immediately and the way she taps her full, pouty mouth has my cock stirring to life as my own scent—my fucking mark—damn near replaces all the oxygen in the shop.
Posey's nostrils flare ever so slightly, and if not for my acute vision I would have missed the way her pupils dilate the tiniest bit. Then she takes my breath away as the most glorious smile spreads across her freckled cheeks.
"I know exactly what you need." She looks at me a beat longer then turns to grab a small paper bag. Posey lines it with the brightest pink wax paper before going to the case, sliding open the door, and picking up the small tongs.
She picks up two rather fancy looking pastries, hesitates, then adds a third and fourth to the bag before replacing the tongs and rolling the white paper sack closed. Posey hands it over to Ronny then ushers him toward the cash register.
I walk down to the end where she's clearly coaching him on how to ring up my coffee and breakfast. "What did you choose?"
"Raspberry and cream cheese puff pastry pinwheel." Another gorgeous blush creeps up her neck but she smiles at me. "There's a secret ingredient in the filling that makes them to die for. They're my favorite."
My chest fills with warmth at the thought of her sharing her favorite anything with me but I quirk a brow. "Secret ingredient?"
Posey nods, her smile growing. "Yes, but I've been sworn to secrecy. If I tell you, the consequences will be dire."
"Dire?" I shake my head with an almost smile.
"Now, if you were to guess on your own..." She tilts her head again as Ronny gives me my total and I hand over a twenty. "Well, I guess I could probably be persuaded to tell you if you were wrong or right the next time you come in."
My brow arches as I take my change and stuff it in the jar marked for tips, "Who's to say I'll be returning?"
Posey hands me the bag and my coffee, our fingers touching ever so slightly but still enough for an electrical charge to surge through my entire body. A charge that Posey must feel too judging by the way she shudders.
She shakes it off and smiles. "You'll be back." Then she nods toward the bag in my hand. "Once you taste those there is no doubt in my mind you'll be back for more.”
"Perhaps." I nod my thanks and turn to leave but with each heavy step I can feel her eyes on me.
My dragon protests, starts pacing like a beast in a cage, desperately trying to get me to turn around and take what is mine.
There is no doubt, even after the simplest interaction, that this Posey is mine, my mate, but we are not in the Old Country and I need to be sure. I can't just walk up to some human, however gorgeous, and claim her. Then tell her that I'm a three hundred and thirty-seven year old dragon shifter, king of my people, preparing for a war between clans in order to reclaim my throne.
No, I need to see if Posey exhibits the signs of my true mate first, then do something I never thought I'd have to do when I found my beloved.
I'm going to have to attempt to date my fated mate.
Fuck.
More Caffeine
"I'm home!" I chirp as I slam the front door, slip my shoes off my aching feet then immediately stub my toe on the damn hall table. "Son of a bitch!"
I hop around on one foot, my purse smacking me in the ass while I hold my poor toe and cuss a blue streak.
My dad rolls in, quite literally, quirks a brow then smirks before he starts scribbling away on his dry erase board.
Forgot to tell you, I put a table by the front door a little while ago. About thirty-six years now. Probably shoulda warned ya.
