Page 7 of Saving Her Dragon

Way before he was ready, she pulled back, and her attentive gaze swept over his face. He could see the wheels turning in that magnificent mind of hers as she searched his expression for something. He thought about asking, but instead, waited patiently. Sooner than he’d thought, she seemed satisfied because she kissed him again before sliding out of bed.

"Coffee?" she asked, padding toward the door in one of his old T-shirts they’d had shipped from the Lair.

"Always."

She laughed, the sound bright and easy as she disappeared into the hallway, leaving the scent of vanilla and roses in her wake.

Sitting up, Garrett swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room was elegant, but simple, a country guest cottage, but it felt like a sanctuary to him. A place where nothing could reach him. Where he could breathe and truly relax.

Pushing off the mattress, he got to his feet. Rolling his shoulders, he turned back towards the room and got to work.

The bed came first.

With meticulous, mechanical movements, he pulled the sheet up, flattening it from the head of the bed to the foot with his palms. When he reached the bottom left corner, his fingers moved with a practiced internal rhythm, tucking the fabric into crisp, flawless forty-five-degree angles.

"Dragon Man..."

The sleepy, amused murmur broke the silence. Garrett paused, a sheet still pinched between his fingers, and looked over his shoulder. Sydney’s shoulder was propped against the doorframe, her hair a beautiful, chaotic halo around her face. She was smiling, her eyes bright with affection.

"Those have to be the tightest, straightest, military corners I’ve ever laid eyes on," she teased.

Garrett blinked, looking down at the perfect, sharp fold of fabric, then back at her. Chuckling, a touch of genuine pride in his voice that she had noticed, he shrugged. "Is there another way?"

Sydney let out a soft, musical laugh that rippled through the quiet room. "Well, I just pull the blanket up… Then again, I’ve never had to prepare the bed for inspection."

A tiny tug pulled at the corner of his mouth. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he heard a voice, not Han’s or his own but the funny, social guy he used to be, that said, “Go ahead. Have fun. This is real life.”

Taking the suggestion and going for it, Garrett spun on his toes and closed the distance to his Mate in the blink of an eye. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he put his lips on hers, picked her up, and swung her in complete circles as he kissed her with all the love he felt.

Coming to a screeching halt, he set a dazed and lusty-eyed Sydney’s feet back on the floor. Holding onto her shoulders for an extra second to be sure she wouldn’t fall, he took a step back and jumped to attention.

Saluting her as if she was his Commander, he barked, “Ma’am, yes, ma’am. Is the coffee ready, ma’am?”

Still a little blurry-eyed, Sydney smiled as the tips of her fingers slid along her bottom lip. Slowly nodding, she winked. Then falling into character, she joined in on the gag, “Oh, I’ll get you some coffee, Recruit. Just don’t you worry.”

Bursting out laughing a split-second after she did, Garrett hunched his shoulder, stuck out his hands, and wiggled his fingers. “Hurry! N-Need coffee. Am tur-turning into the tick-tickle monster.”

Grabbing the hem of her T-shirt as she made a show of squealing like a schoolgirl and running down the hall, he once again laughed out loud. He felt so good. It was cathartic. Laughter was just another of the million or so things he had missed.

“But right now, I need to declutter this room.”

Marching back over the threshold, he moved to the dressing area inside the master closet. Grabbing the handles of the duffel bag he’d been sent, Garrett set it on the velvet-cushioned bench and pulled the zipper open.

Faced with a muddled mass of T-shirts, jeans, socks, and underwear, he got right to work. Pulling out one piece of clothing at a time, he folded them into precise, uniform squares and placed them in the drawers on his side of the massive closet.

Next came his boots. Doing the same routine, but with a large box, he ripped off the packing tape. Instantly realizing he had way more footwear than he remembered, Garrett moved the box to the floor and sat on a low stool in front of the mahogany shelves especially designed for boots.

“When in Texas…” he chuckled.

“We adapt,” Han added with a hearty, gravelly snicker.

Polishing each pair with steady, rhythmic strokes until the leather gleamed, all colors and types gleaming like glass, he placed the pairs on the shelves. Looking at what he’d accomplished, Garrett grinned as he wondered what cute thing Sydney would say when she saw them all lined up like soldiers.

“But I have to get this done first.”

Moving to the last unopened case, he entered the combination and pressed the pad of his thumb against the sensor. The instant the lock clicked open, he lifted the lid and stood in awe. The collection of weapons he'd amassed over the years was nothing short of impressive– even by Dragon Guard standards.

Lining them up on the folding table that was pulled from the wall like a tiny Murphy bed, Garrett wiped down each blade. Inspecting each for nicks or gouges, he laid them out in order of length. It was a ritual of survival his father had taught him and Grey at a very young age, but this time it felt different. It felt like rebuilding a foundation, stone by stone… It felt good, cleansing.