Chapter Fifteen
They drove in silence to Sinclair Estate. Not that conversation was much of an option in Jaxon’s sports car. Planes probably had quieter engines. Then again, he might be doing some unnecessary gear shifting to keep conversation to a minimum.
She was surprised when he pulled up to the hairpin drive in front of her grandparents’ house and handed his keys over to one of the staff for valet parking. “Are we ready for this?” Bryn asked as they walked into the main hall.
“No,” Jaxon said. “But we don’t have a choice. And as you’ve said before, that seems to be the theme of your life…so thanks for sharing that with me.” His tone was sort of teasing.
“You’re so welcome,” she shot back.
Bryn’s grandmother met them at the top of the stairs. “How nice to see you both. We’re going to eat in the atrium since it’s such a lovely evening.”
That was new. Bryn would have bet they’d eat in the dining room. “Not that I’m complaining, but why the atrium?”
Her grandmother’s grin looked a little wicked. “Just in case your grandfather wants to speak to Jaxon about something in his office.”
Suspicion confirmed.
“Is there any amount of money I can bribe you with to keep him from giving me this talk?” Jaxon asked.
“No.” Her grandmother smiled. “Now come along.”
Jaxon glanced back at the stairs. “What if I accidentally fell and broke my arm?”
“Well, then Bryn could heal you and we’d reschedule this event.” Her grandmother headed toward the next flight of stairs.
“I’m sorry,” Bryn said as they followed along. “At least it’s only a one-time thing.”
The atrium was amazing. The entire back wall was glass, which turned the area into a greenhouse, bringing the outdoors indoors. Plants and flowers lined the hall and were used to create pathways to the white wrought iron tables in the center of the room. It smelled like flowers and soil and something savory, which must be dinner.
Her grandfather met them by the table where he hugged Bryn and shook Jaxon’s hand. “Nice to see you.” He smiled like he was highly amused by this entire situation.
“You’re going to torment him, aren’t you?” Bryn said.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” her grandfather said. “If you’ll have a seat we can start dinner.”
“It smells wonderful,” Bryn said.
“It should taste even better,” a woman dressed in a maid’s uniform said, as she pushed a cart into the room with four domed silver plates. Bryn had learned the drill. Sit and wait until everyone had a plate. Once her grandfather had removed his cover, she removed hers. It was some sort of beef.
“Prime rib,” her grandfather informed her. “One of my favorites.”
They ate, and her grandmother made small talk, asking them about school and how their classes were going. Jaxon gave perfunctory answers and pushed his food around on his plate. Bryn enjoyed her food and tried to keep the conversation flowing.
“I have a question for you,” Bryn said. “If a couple never married because their contract was denied, and they’re past the age of having kids, is there any reason they couldn’t marry now?”
Her grandfather frowned. “No one has ever asked that question.”
“Can you look into it?” Bryn asked.
Her grandfather nodded. After dessert of peach sorbet, he stood. “Jaxon, why don’t you join me in my study?”
Without a word, Jaxon stood and followed after her grandfather. Once they were out of range of hearing, Bryn said, “Is this the part where you ambush me with embarrassing conversation?”
“No”—her grandmother grinned—“I assume you know about the birds and the bees.”
“I do,” Bryn said.
“And I hope you’re going to wait until you’re married before you and Jaxon become intimate.”
Bryn cringed. “You said this wouldn’t be embarrassing, and there are no worries on that front.” Because she and Jaxon would never be a real couple.
“I’ve said my piece,” her grandmother responded with a grin. “I’m afraid Jaxon is going to get a much more thorough talking-to about respectful behavior and responsibility to the Clan.”
“This is a horrible tradition,” Bryn said.
“Wait until you have your own children,” she said. “Then you’ll understand.”
Half an hour later, Jaxon returned with a resigned look on his face. “I believe we’re done,” he told Bryn. “If you’re ready to leave?”
“Sure.” Bryn hugged her grandmother and then her grandfather.
“Did you traumatize him?” she whispered to her grandfather.
He grinned. “Just looking out for your best interests.”
“You enjoyed this way too much,” she said.
“I did,” he agreed. In a louder voice, he said, “Go enjoy the rest of your Saturday evening.”
Jaxon snorted and muttered something under his breath as he walked off. Bryn pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
She caught up with Jaxon on the stairs. “I’m sorry,” she said.
He didn’t respond, which was strange. From her perspective this was sort of funny, but maybe he couldn’t see that or wasn’t ready to see that yet. Whatever. She’d wait until they were in the car to talk to him.
On the drive back to school the engine didn’t growl nearly as much, and he didn’t seem to enjoy driving. Something was wrong. But what?
When Jaxon pulled into a spot in the school parking lot, he made no move to turn the engine off.
“Do you want to talk about something?” she asked.
He didn’t respond.
Well, crap. “Did my grandfather offend you in some way?”
“No. It’s just that this shouldn’t be happening.” He turned the car off. “No offense, but we both know this will never be a real marriage.”
His statement tugged at her insides. “I know it will never be like what you would have had with Rhianna or what I thought I could’ve had with Valmont, but we can be friends. We can make this work as a partnership. Isn’t that what most Blue marriages are about anyway?”
“Yes,” he conceded. “It’s just that I thought I’d have something more…and now I won’t.” He reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We should go in. It’s almost curfew.”
They walked back to the dorm in silence. He didn’t say good night, he just kept on walking to his own room. What a lovely evening this had turned out to be. She let herself in, changed into comfy clothes, and lost herself in a book.
…
Sunday morning she met up with Clint and Ivy for a late breakfast and told them about the strange Blue Clan tradition Jaxon had endured.
“That is…evil,” Clint said. His eyes grew wide. “Your dad isn’t planning on ambushing me like that,” he said to Ivy. “Is he?”
“Absolutely not,” she said. “Why would they do that?”
“It’s like some sort of weird Blue hazing ritual,” Clint said.
“That’s exactly what it is. My grandfather looked like he had a wonderful time.”
“On to a happier and far more normal topic,” Ivy said. “Henna, the Orange female dragon who helped me grow the trees, is not an evil Silver dragon-pire.”
“How did you figure that out?” Bryn asked.
“Someone must have tracked her down and told her how exhausted I was after growing the trees because she came in to speak to Medic Williams and apologize for not thinking about how the effects might be different for a Black dragon’s system. Apparently, Orange dragon’s sonic waves are like a never-ending source of plant growing energy, which is different than me using my own Quintessence. She can grow plants for hours and never require a nap. I did it for forty minutes and was down for the count, which is sort of embarrassing.”
“I guess it makes sense, though,” Bryn said. “Since their sonic waves are so powerful they must naturally have more energy to spend.”
“And if I’d never read those articles about Silvers and their strange dragon-pire cult, I never would have suspected Henna of being anything other than what she was,” Clint said. “A turbo-powered plant whisperer.”
“It makes me kind of sad that I’ll never be able to grow plants like her,” Ivy said.
“You can still be the topiary queen,” Bryn said. “And that’s pretty cool.”
“I think I’ll go back to painting,” Ivy said. “It’s strange, but knowing I’ll never be the real deal makes me not even want to try.”
Kind of like her marriage to Jaxon. Wait…where did that odd thought come from?
…
Nothing strange or mortifying happened on Monday or Tuesday. Wednesday was odd because Jaxon knocked on her door after dinner, interrupting her reading. He held his own book and had a takeout box with two cups and a couple of giant cookies, which looked like they were chocolate chip.
“What’s this?” Bryn asked as she let him in.
“A reading date,” Jaxon said. “To appease the people who are making snide remarks about our non-relationship.”
“People are talking about us? Since when?”
He set the box on the coffee table and sat in one of her wing-backed chairs. “Doesn’t matter. One night a week we can meet to read and that should shut people up.”
“Okay.” She plopped back down on the couch with her book and then eyed the cups he’d brought. She couldn’t smell anything so he hadn’t brought coffee.
“It’s milk,” he said without looking up from his book.
“You brought milk and cookies?” It’s like they were on a kindergarten date.
“If you’re going to have cookies you might as well have milk,” he said.
She grabbed a cup and took the lid off, broke off a piece of cookie, and dunked it before taking a bite. It was brown sugar, vanilla, and chocolate bliss. This type of dating totally worked for her.
She read and finished off her cookie before eyeing up the cookie still sitting in the box. Jaxon was deep into whatever he was reading. He hadn’t touched his cookie, so maybe he wouldn’t miss it. She started to lean forward and he said, “Don’t even think about it.”
“You’re not eating it,” she objected.
“I plan on eating it,” he said. “And you already had one.”
“One,” she said. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”
He shook his head and continued reading.
Ten minutes later he closed his book and picked up his cookie. She gave him puppy dog eyes. “Fine.” He broke a third of the cookie off and gave it to her.
After finishing his cookie, he shoved his cup back into the carryout box. “Are you done with your milk?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He shoved her cup back into the container and stood. “I’m at a good stopping point in my book, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are we still eating dinner together tomorrow, because we could read together several nights a week instead.” Would he go for her plan?
“We still need to be seen together in public. What if I eat dinner at your table one night a week? Then I won’t have to explain your lack of manners to my friends.”
“You just couldn’t play nice the entire time, could you?”
“I am a Westgate,” he said with a fake air of snottiness.
“I’m well aware of that disturbing fact.”
He smiled at her, and it was a real smile. That was nice. “Good night, Bryn.” He walked to the door and let himself out. Weird how she’d never thought he’d act so normal. He was usually so formal and Blue. Maybe this whole friendship thing could work.