The band played zydeco music, a bluesy, R&B combined with a unique Louisiana bayou twang all its own. I half-listened to them warm up while sipping my margarita—strains of accordion, fiddle, and washboard, or frottoir, as the Cajuns called it. A margarita’d been a bad choice. Who’d’ve thought that a mixed drink from a hole in the wall with sawdust on the floor wouldn’t be delicious? What had I been thinking?

My twin sister was in pregnancy bliss while my closest work colleague was soon to tie the knot, and my knee-jerk reaction was to run out to the closest honkey tonk with a half-baked plan of throwing myself at the first literate and relatively well-groomed man that caught my eye? Stupid. So stupid. Although, I was willing to admit that perhaps it only seemed stupid because I’d been sitting at Barney’s Fais-do-do for over an hour and still the only man under the age of sixty was the bartender, who I knew from high school. If some hunk had walked in and caught my eye, it might have been an amazing plan.

If I was being completely honest, I wasn’t actually here because of anyone else—not Cherry who was having a baby and had found an amazing man to spend her life with, and not Carys Hubert, chair of the science department, who had posted a picture of her engagement-ring-clad left hand on Facebook and received over five hundred likes. I was here because of everyone else. Every single person in my life was moving on with theirs. Marriage, babies, white picket fences, and minivans. Everyone was growing up, and I was still a workaholic spending my free nights at home grading papers, planning PowerPoint slides for lectures, conducting research, or writing papers about my research. Sure, I’d had lots of dates, but no one special. Ever.

That’d been fine. I liked my life working a semester a year as a part-time adjunct professor at Lafourche Community College and taking freelance horticulture gigs. Most importantly, I was free and unencumbered—under no one’s thumb. I could go where I wanted and do what I wanted. Provided I wasn’t contracted to teach that semester, I could leave the country on a whim, and I often did. That was how I knew the margarita I was drinking was crap. The last margarita I’d had was in this tiny place on the coast of Mexico. It was said that the place was once owned by the man who invented margaritas, Carlos Herrera, himself.

At twenty-nine years old, I’d already lived a full life of travel and exploring. Yet, I was alone. I had Cherry, but she was starting her own family. There was no one else tying me down; nothing tethering me to anything. Which was awesome. Except, I felt as though my life had become stagnant. I’d been in a melancholic funk about it.

Somehow, I’d figured the best place to start moving on with my life and expanding my horizons was to lose my virginity and gain a little sexual prowess. Yes, there were plenty of men “friends” in my life who would have undoubtedly jumped at the chance to “pluck the bloom from my rose” so to speak, but going that route had the potential for complications. Men could get clingy, and I wasn’t looking for complications. Just a “one and done.” A “hit it and quit it.”

My plan was strictly in the interest of research. The idea of reaching the age of thirty and never having had sex seemed strange. Plus, what if I happened to meet the man of my dreams and I had no idea what to do in the bedroom? I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself. What if I sucked? Well, I supposed sucking would be a good thing. But I didn’t want to be a lousy lay.

Or, maybe I was just jealous of all the hot nights—and days—my twin sister seemed to be having lately. I wasn’t exactly sure why I’d thought it was what I needed to do, rushing out to a hole-in-the-wall bar to find an anonymous stranger to have sex with. It was remotely possible my brain was impaired from the vast quantities of sugar I’d been ingesting lately. Chocolate in every form: cake, cookies, all the candy I had ever wanted to try as a child. I was stuffing my face with whatever form of sweets I could get. I didn’t do melancholy well. I tended to try to smother it with sugar.

I sat back in my chair and looked around again. While there were a few men looking my way, they were mostly silver haired and potbellied. I didn’t mind older and more mature, but I drew the line at grandpa. Johnny, the bartender, was okay enough, but I couldn’t imagine having sex with him.

That was my problem in a nutshell, though. I’d been close enough to sex a few times, but I never could see it through. I wasn’t shy about my body. I wasn’t embarrassed by the act itself. I just…couldn’t get into it. I’d even wondered if I was gay, but I had even less attraction to women, so I had to rule out lesbianism. The men never seemed right no matter how much I wanted them to be. Maybe I was just broken. Oh, hell, of course, I was broken. So? Weren’t most people to some extent or another?

I pushed the margarita around on the table a bit, sliding the glass in its own sweat. I needed to just admit defeat and leave. There was always tomorrow. I could down the drink, go home, pour myself a glass of sweet tea, and eat a box of brownies. Those little fake kinds that came in the plastic wrapper and had cosmic candies on top… My stomach growled at the idea and I nodded to myself. Cosmic brownies, it was.

I stood up and walked over to Johnny at the bar. While he finished up with someone else, I focused on digging through my purse trying to locate my credit card. I finally found it, sandwiched between a couple baggies of plant samples, and pulled it out with a flourish.

My arm smashed into something hard, and I looked back to find an incredibly tall, incredibly handsome man wiping beer from his face. My eyes widened, and my mouth fell open, but my hands went to work. I grabbed the empty glass of beer from him and set it on the bar before snatching a handful of bar napkins to begin mopping him up.

“I am so sorry.” I glanced up at his handsome face and frowned. “I wasn’t paying any attention. I’ll get this dry-cleaned for you, if you want.”

His stony face cracked into a smile, and he shrugged. “It’s just a T-shirt.”

“Well, then, at least let me buy you another beer.” I motioned to Johnny, who immediately grabbed a glass and started pouring something from the tap. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

“Apology accepted, but not necessary. Nothing to worry about. I won’t melt.”

Well, he was hot enough to melt butter. If there were a few more women in the bar, they’d all be melting over this guy. Even I had almost softened. No melting for me, though. Not the broken woman. He was a stunner, but still I found myself looking toward the exit, thinking about ultra-processed, packaged brownies. To hell with my plan tonight. I just wanted to go home.

Johnny handed the man his beer and took my card from me, leaving me alone with the drenched stranger again.

“Thank you for the beer.” He started to walk away and then looked back at me. “Would you care to join me?”

I glanced toward the door once more and, out of the corner of my eye, spotted Johnny on his way back over with my card. I was aware that I was facing what could be a pivotal moment in my life. I was standing at a crossroads and, depending on the direction I took, the next few hours could be a turning point. I wanted to go home. But I was trying for something different—growth. I looked down at my feet and then back up at the stranger and shrugged. “Sure.”

He motioned to the bar. “Would you care for another drink?”

I nodded at Johnny that I’d take another margarita and then followed the stranger to a table in the back corner. I sank into the booth across from him and forced a smile. “I don’t recognize you from around here.”

“My name is Armand. I do not frequent such places often. I am trying something new.”

“Armand.”

He smiled a real smile then, showing all his teeth in a way that reminded me of swamp gators.

I glanced up as Johnny placed my drink down next to me, atop a fresh, square napkin, and then faded away. I wasn’t sure what to talk about. I felt out of place and like maybe I should’ve chosen to beat feet while I’d had the chance without seeming rude. Armand was good eye candy, hotter than hot, but I just wasn’t into him.

“What do hum—people do at places like this?”

My gaze shot back to him, and I narrowed my eyes. He’d been about to say humans. I knew it like I knew my own name. Was he a dragon, like Cherry’s new forever squeeze? Or was he maybe a different kind of creature? How did I ask something like that without sounding crazy?

“Are you okay?”

I nodded. In the interest of not looking like a complete lunatic, I supposed I’d just come out with strong hints. “So…my sister, Cherry, just met a guy named Cezar...”

Armand suddenly grinned wider. “Cezar’s mate, Cherry, is your sister?”

“Twin. So, I take it you know my sister? And Cezar?”

He nodded. “She still has not learned to exclude the rest of us when she tries to push her thoughts to Cezar. I am afraid I know way too much about your twin sister—and Cezar. We all do.”

I laughed, aware of what he was saying. Cherry, once mated to a dragon, had gained the ability to communicate telepathically but couldn’t get the hang of focusing so that she communicated her personal thoughts and feelings to Cezar alone. Instead, she tended to broadcast her private business to all the dragons. “So, I guess that means you’re a…dragon?”

He sat up and puffed his chest proudly, then nodded back at me. “As sure as I breathe fire.”