Page 22 of Dragon Her Heels

FIVE

I licked my lips and feasted on the visual buffet laid out before me.

Tall, check.

Dark, close enough: the man’s tan indicated he spent a great deal of time outside. His brown eyes also fell into the dark category, which worked well with his hair and hovered somewhere between brown and black.

Handsome, check.

Muscular in all the right ways, check.

From head to toe, the man of my dreams had gone to the feed store, and he investigated the selection of tack for horses tucked in the back of the shop. That he examined the store’s limited supply of racing saddles indicated he, like me, had an interest in thoroughbreds. His choice of attire included a casual button-up and jeans that properly caressed his assets and promised good things should I get him out of said attire.

His boots were the only concern; they hadn’t seen much wear and tear yet, though I did spot a few scuffs indicating he’d put them to good use thus far.

When positive he couldn’t catch me, I licked my lips and feasted on the visual buffet laid out before me.

“Well, I see where I was going wrong,” the incubus quipped, soft enough the gentleman investigating the tack couldn’t hear him. “I can tell you a few important facts about him in exchange for a bushel of peaches.”

“Sold,” I replied. I’d be rolling in peaches once the trees were ready to share their bounty with me.

“He is single and hasn’t enjoyed the company of a woman in long enough I can’t tell if he’s a virgin or not. At that stage, he might as well be a virgin.”

Nice. However, that concerned me for a few reasons.

The nice piece of scenery down the way didn’t appear to be that old. “Non-human, then?”

“Correct. You are what you are, so that’s not a bad thing. I can’t tell which one of you will live longer, but it’s better than you partnering with a vanilla man; you’d end up like a harpy, grieving relentlessly because your latest partner perished. Except you wouldn’t be killing him and feeding him to your young, of course.”

Right. I knew several harpies from my last job, and they’d figured out a loophole on how to reproduce without being arrested for killing off their men.

They hunted for old men on the brink of death, and rather than feed the corpse of their lover to their babies, they fed them steak and pork chops.

The men got one last hell of a ride, the harpies got to act in accordance with their nature, and the babies were fed something other than human flesh.

I regarded Isaac with a frown. “What does it say about me that harpies don’t bother me that much?”

“The harpies you know are smart, kind enough until it’s time to have children, and give up any non-harpy infants for adoption. Also, Lucy wants to thank you for planting those seeds among your harpy friends; you’ve saved numerous babies from a bad end because you taught the harpies how to better handle the situation. They just aren’t human, they don’t know how to be human, and adoption is not part of their knowledge nor instincts.”

“I’m going to give you a bunch of cherries for that gem, too. Thanks, Isaac.”

“Anytime. So, where are the chickens?”

I pointed towards the other end of the store, although I didn’t budge.

The tall, dark, and handsome along the way was near the new halter I wanted to get for David.

It matched my new truck, and I wanted halters that matched my truck.

“If you go over there, he might talk to you, and then you might lose what’s left of your mind,” the incubus warned.

“I legitimately have a need from that section of the store. Of course, it’s only a need because I’m trying really hard to be selfish for once in my life; I want red halters, and the only way I’m getting them is if I buy them here or head over to the fancy shop.”

“It’s more selfish if you head over to the fancy shop,” he replied, and the bastard laughed at me. “I’ll go look at the chickens while you go break your own heart. Unless he has good sense and bothers to use magic, he isn’t going to think you’re anything more than a human, and he doesn’t appear to be on the hunt for his next lay. Sorry, Crystal.”

I slumped my shoulders at the news. “I’ll still get David a halter. David is a master of getting his filthy.”

“If David sees mud, he rolls in it, and that’s rough on a halter. You even do your best to take their halters off when releasing them to the pasture in the morning. You only halter them out of a burning need to be responsible. You have convinced them to follow you like baby ducklings without putting up a fuss. You don’t even need lead lines for any of them.”