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He presses his lips together. I straighten the dragon’s wing, although the entire frame collapses across my knees.

Bane laughs and kneels beside me and reaches for the frame. His fingers slide across mine, and the brief contact sends heat up my arm before he shifts close enough for his shoulder to rest against mine.

“You’ve threaded the center rod through the tail loop,” he says, easing it free.

“I followed the drawing.”

“The loop sits behind the rod.”

“The drawing is smaller than my thumb.”

Bane finally hands the finished kite to Babs and rises before the conversation grows worse. “Take it onto the grass and wait until I tell you what to do.”

The twins race away before he finishes, dragging their kites behind them. The reels unwind across the lawn.

Babs runs faster, which makes the dragon bounce over the grass before catching a gust and plunging face first into the ground.

Biddy stops beside it and studies the collapsed fabric. “It’s dead.”

“It’s resting,” Babs says as she bends over it.

Sprout lunges toward the tail, and Bane catches the leash with both hands before the dog can reach it.

“He thinks it’s prey,” I say, helping Babs lift the dragon.

Biddy gathers her butterfly against her chest. “He ate my birthday sign. He ate the part with my name on it.”

Sprout strains harder toward the dragon, so Bane passes me the leash and walks Biddy into position with her back to the wind.

The dog waits until Bane is several yards away before throwing his entire body toward the kite. I brace my feet in the grass, wrapping the leash around my hand. He pants with complete confidence in his plan.

Bane raises the butterfly above his head and asks Biddy to begin walking. She takes careful steps across the grass. waits for the wind to fill the fabric, then releases it when the wings begin to pull.

The kite rises several feet, dips toward one side, and climbs again as Biddy breaks into a run. Her delighted scream carries across the lawn beneath the butterfly flickering above her.

“When I tell you to run, stay in a straight line,” Bane says as he walks backward with the kite.

“I know how to run.”

Bane checks the fabric as the next gust moves across the lawn. He left his jacket beside the blanket, leaving his dark sweater stretched across his shoulders and the pushed-up sleeves exposing his forearms.

The wind lifts the silver threaded through his hair, and somewhere in the middle of watching him judge the conditions, I lose track of the dragon entirely.

His eyes meet mine across the grass, and the knowing curve at the corner of his mouth tells me he noticed where my attention went.

Heat climbs across my face before he tells Babs to run.

She charges forward, and I race beside her as Bane releases the kite into the wind.

“I’ve got it!” she shouts as she fights to control the reel.

I keep one hand near her shoulder, watching the kite climb higher, its red tail snapping above the lawn. “Hold the reel against your stomach and keep moving.”

She follows the instruction until a stronger gust pulls her off balance. I catch her around the waist before she falls, and she laughs, leaning against me.

“It’s trying to take me.”

“Dragons aren’t allowed to abduct children in Central Park.”