Page 105 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

“Why did helpful sound like you were describing a man who carried you across a moor?”

“It didn’t.”

“It did. You said it like you’d seen his forearms in candlelight.”

“There were no forearms. There were cuff links.”

“Oh, that is exponentially worse.”

My phone pinged, and my entire body betrayed me.

I didn’t drop anything or gasp or press a hand to my sternum like a woman in a miniseries receiving news from the front. But my attention snapped down so fast Avery could’ve tracked it with a laser pointer.

I pulled out my phone.

Rafe: I have no knowledge of fairy activity in your building.

I could feel the smile happening and did absolutely nothing to stop it, which was frankly the most damning part. It started small, then widened before I could shove it into a respectable drawer labeled client correspondence.

Avery went still. “The fuck,” she said.

I looked up. “What?”

She pointed at me. “That.”

“What?”

“That face.”

“I’m aware I have a face.”

“You have a cursed little smile.”

“It’s not cursed.”

“You’re smiling at your phone like a teenager hiding a vape in a church bathroom.”

I choked. “That is incredibly specific.”

“I contain multitudes. Who texted you?”

“No one.”

Avery’s brows climbed.

“Someone,” I amended.

“Someone dragon-shaped?”

“Avery.”

“Oh my god.” She took one step closer. “Did the dragon text you?”

“He replied to a text.”

“You texted the dragon first?”

“It was about building maintenance.”