Page 14 of Ale Storm

“We’ve been thinking about names for the coffee shop again.”

“Again?” A couple of times, Rylana had wondered why the shop didn’t have a name—the sign out front merely showed a cup of steaming coffee with nothing written below it.

Tezilly nodded. “We’ve been open three years and had… four names, I believe. Each time, we’ve chosen something we could both agree on—despite our many years together, that’s not always as easy as you’d think—but the names haven’t worked out for one reason or another.”

“Why is that?”

“The first time, a haughty elf informed us that Brew with a View was the name of his apothecary only a couple of miles down the street—we had no idea—and he’d had it first, so we had to change it. The second time, we learned that Espresso Yourself sounds disturbingly similar to an orc-ish curse. And we won’t even talk about how much giggling from the goblins there was over Lake View Grind. I suppose grind has certain connotations in our language as well.” Tezilly waved. “It’s an ongoing quest to find something that no species finds suggestive or offensive. I think having an erotic bakery next door lends people who visit this area to already be in a certain state of mind. Did you see Mya’s new scones?”

“The ones with the berry nipples? Yes.”

“She douses those berries in a sugar-alcohol mixture that’s delicious, but, given their position at the apex of the scone, it’s a little disturbing to chew them off.”

A gnome driving a wagon from the grocer arrived across the street, and Gniknik came out of the diner with his dish-collecting contraption. Apparently, it could tote crates of ingredients as easily as dirty plates.

Seeing him hard at work made Rylana feel she should get back to the diner, especially since Jildarin had said nice things about valuing her. It warmed her heart that he thought highly of her, particularly given the way their relationship had started. She smiled at the memory of him striding around the kitchen, calling her my enemy.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Jildarin appeared in the doorway of the diner, striding out to lift a heavy crate from the back of the wagon. He said a few words and tilted his head, probably telling the gnome he should have brought the load to the carriage doors of the storeroom in the back, but the broad cobblestone street out front appealed more to delivery people. Jildarin didn’t force the issue, merely stacking a second crate atop the first and maneuvering both through the door.

Rylana admired his backside as he disappeared inside, and Zilek’s suggestion of how Jildarin should push her up against the wall returned to her mind. She would be extremely amenable to that. Should she tell Jildarin? To forestall him going to see her father or whatever notions that book was putting into his head?

Yes, she should. As soon as possible. If Jildarin was not only drawn to her, as he’d admitted to his brother, but having thoughts of mating, why should they delay? It wasn’t as if they needed to go on coffee dates to get to know each other. As Zilek had pointed out, they’d spent most of their days and nights together for weeks. She would love for Jildarin to heft her, as he had those crates, and carry her to the storeroom and to the bed.

Tezilly shifted in her chair, making it squeak against the tile floor.

“Maybe we should have a contest and let the patrons help name our shop,” she mused, tapping her pencil on her notepad.

Rylana realized she hadn’t heard anything Tezilly had said for a while and blurted, “Yes, good idea,” to feign attentiveness.

Tezilly smirked. “Judging by your expression, you were thinking of something besides coffee-shop names.”

“Possibly.” Rylana sipped from her latte.

Tezilly, who not that long ago had observed Jildarin standing close to Rylana and smelling her hair, asked, “A certain sexy dragon?”

“Possibly,” Rylana repeated.

“Could it be Zilek?” Still smirking, Tezilly waved to the table in the back.

Zilek had risen from his chair and was gesturing expansively, telling some grandiose tale, probably one that highlighted dragon stamina. Still leaning against the wall, Sylin wore the same cool masked expression as before, though Vilma had placed a large cup of steaming coffee in her grip. If Sylin hadn’t taken an occasional sip, she would have looked like a statue chiseled from stone for all that she changed in the face of Zilek’s zeal.

“I don’t pine for him, no,” Rylana said.

“How odd.”

“I need to speak with Jildarin about something important.” Rylana placed a few coppers on the table and rose.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Not that. I mean, not right now. First, I need to make sure he doesn’t go see my father.” Two hells, wouldn’t that go over well? Jildarin striding into one of her father’s business meetings to ask his opinion on dragons as suitors? Even worse, Jildarin might bring up Rylana’s nonexistent virginity. By the gods, she had to hurry. “Will you keep an eye out for Sylin and make sure she survives the rest of her date?”

“She’s survived months of being hunted down by elves trying to end the threat to the Shaldona family’s succession plans for their kingdom,” Tezilly pointed out.

“How did you get all the details on that?” Rylana doubted Sylin had gone into an in-depth explanation.

“I own a coffee shop. I hear almost as much as the owner of the tavern on the other side of our back alley. Caffeine doesn’t make customers quite as open and loquacious as alcohol, but chattiness is still a frequent side effect.”

“Right. Well, Sylin can take care of herself. I’m just a little protective of her since we’ve watched each other’s backs for years.” Rylana lowered her voice to admit, “And I’m the one who set her up on that date.”