Page 35 of Feathers and Scales

Daxton stood at the bar getting them drinks. She sat in an area where four chairs faced each other.

“Here you are,” Daxton said, walking up behind her.

She took the glass, and he sat in front of her. Sipping the water, she avoided his gaze. Each time she looked at him, her heart pounded. When he’d suggested himself as her sword, it was as if he’d offered her a little piece of the Heaven she longed for. And to her, that meant everything.

Breathing in for a count of four and exhaling for the same, she forced herself back to a semblance of control. She couldn’t avoid him, so after placing her drink in the cupholder, she twisted toward him. He stared outside, keeping her from the full impact of his bronze eyes. Her heart rampaged, and she steadied herself with more deep breaths.

He’s just a man.Someone with a dragon for a spirit and features that made her libido do odd things, but a man, nonetheless. Yet, at the tiniest movement of his arm, she whipped toward the window.Coward,she huffed at herself.

She rested her forehead against the glass and daydreamed about brushing her fingers through the clouds they’d soon be joining. With her eyes closed, she swallowed around a painful lump. Using her light energy, she could fill in her spirit wings but wasn’t strong enough to battle against intense winds. It restricted her to low heights or indoorflight. Neither of which quenched her appetite. It was as if she were a bird with an innate need to soar but born featherless.

As the plane took off, dizziness pounded against her head, her ears rang, and she had to straighten up to keep herself from leaning to one side. She cursed herself for being so susceptible to vertigo at takeoff. For a flying being, it was comical that her human body had issues with being in a plane. Other times when she flew, she talked to Simon to distract herself.

“What is it you do?” she asked.

He craned his head toward her. After taking a hurried, yet thorough, examination of her features, he looked back outside. “You didn’t look into Daxton Dupont?”

“The majority shareholder of Prater Properties? I get it. The identity fits. But that only speaks to one part of your job.”

“Oh? What’s the other part?”

She found the tilting of his lips fascinating. Profiling using deduction was a simple exercise for her brain. She’d been putting pieces together ever since she’d met him. His mannerisms, apparel, and appearance told a story.

“You’ve been wearing a pair of well-worn, steel-toed boots, and your hands have old calluses on the palms. Both hint toward someone who’s used to a career in physical labor, likely something in construction.”

His intense bronze eyes gleamed.

Heat rose to her cheeks. “Few trade careers offer the amount of revenue you make. I’m thinking you started a career in construction, which turned into Prater Properties that flips real estate for corporations. Your tan lines and recent blisters”—she nodded toward his hands—“suggest you can’t help yourself from doing what you enjoy—the physical labor. I’d wager you’ve tried working at different levels within the company.”

The look he gave her displayed all the praise she needed to go up in flames. His smile opened his face and sharpened the hard angles of his jaw, making him far too handsome. Because of that, she wouldn’t tell him that the muscles in his arms hinted at heavy lifting done regularly. Or that the slight unevenness of his right side compared to the left spoke of someone who did the work out of necessity, not because of gym training. Or that oil stains and dirt particles also clung to the jeans hugging his muscular legs.

“Your brain is something else,” he said, leaning forward. “I do go between being a worker, supervisor, and majority shareholder there. It depends on my mood.”

That’s different.Her family would have rather plucked their eyes out than do the manual labor in their business. Her current mother refused to cook or do her own laundry.I guess some businesspeople aren’t like my family.

“I could use someone like you on my team,” he said.

How many others had told her the same thing? “Not interested.”

“I’m not that bad of an employer.”

“If you were, your pilot wouldn’t joke around the way he does.”

“Touché.”

“Business just isn’t my subject.”My family has made sure of that.

Wisps of clouds floated below them. Her skin prickled with heat from Daxton’s pointed stare. She had a feeling he saw straight through her cold facade.

Daxton tingled with curiosity as he smiled. Izzy projected the impression of an indifferent Renaissance woman, yet she disliked business. He enjoyed learning about this side of her. The one hidden behind a stiff voice, void of any warmth, and a rare smile.

“Don’t tell me family pressure is why you hate business?” he asked.

The bridge of her pointed nose wrinkled beneath her thick-framed blue glasses, as if she were trying to keep emotion from reaching her face.

“Guilty,” she said. “My family breeds executives. And being an only child, it’s expected I take over our scientific supply corporation. But I’m not cut out for it. Books are easier to care for. Running a company and overseeing so many lives? Not my cup of tea.”

A small frown touched the sides of her lips, and her focus seemed distant, lost in memory.