Desperate for Another Chapter?

LET GO MY GARGOYLE

Taming the Dragon Book 5

Four years ago, Sofia had an affair with a gargoyle. The next morning, he disappeared—leaving her with an infant.

Now he’s back, and Sofia is afraid he wants to claim the child she’s been raising as her own.

Griffin isn’t back because he wants the child. What Sofia doesn’t know is that the kid isn’t even his. He’s back because his boss told him to protect Sofia and the baby. A task he doesn’t think he’s capable of doing.

Unfortunately, the more time he spends with Sofia and her adopted daughter Penelope, the less he wants to leave.

And the more danger he’s putting them in.

Taming the Dragon series

Each book has its own happily ever after; however, it is recommended they be read in the following order:

Dragon His Heels

Hungry Like a Dragon

Dragon in Denial

Bewitching the Dragon

Let Go My Gargoyle

Did you check out chapter one in my last post? Here it is, if you want to read it first: LET GO MY GARGOYLE CHAPTER ONE

Now, ready for chapter two? If you love it, don’t worry, the book releases on June 2nd. Only six short days away!!

Chapter Two

The first thing Sofia Glycon did after dropping her drinks and screaming at Griffin was lock herself in the ladies’ room and call Clarice, her babysitter for the evening. She’d needed reassurance that Penelope was all right.

That the gargoyle who’d just disrupted her evening—and her life, again—hadn’t already stopped by and taken her baby girl from her.

Once Clarice assured her that no one had been to the house and there was no suspicious activity and that she would call if for some reason an incredibly attractive guy with a northern accent showed up, Sofia had forced herself to stay at the bar and finish out her shift.

She hadn’t had that much excitement in her life since the night she’d spent with Griffin the Disappearing Gargoyle. She supposed that when she wasn’t feeling resentful or angry—which wasn’t often—Sofia could admit that particular night had been pretty remarkable.

But spectacular orgasms came with a price. Always.

Damn, she had honestly thought she’d never see the guy again. Four years ago, he’d told her he was from Canada. A place called New Brunswick. And when she woke up the next morning and he was gone, leaving behind his very precious three-month-old cargo and no note, she’d presumed he’d hightailed it back north to his homeland. Considering what he left behind, she’d assumed he never planned to return.

Yet here he was. And in the bar where she worked as a waitress. Seriously? What were the odds? Unless, of course, he’d deliberately looked her up. Certainly possible, but why wait four years to do it?

Because by this point, she’d built up enough resentment, enough rage that she would never forgive the guy for what he did.

“You all right, cher?” Mitch, the bar’s owner, asked as he pushed through the swinging doors that led into the kitchen and storage area.

“Yeah. I’ll pay for all that glassware and those drinks I dropped.” She pulled a wad of tip money out of her apron.

Mitch waved away her offer. “Accidents happen. What caught you so off guard, anyway?”

She swallowed thickly. The story she’d given everyone had not involved her sleeping with a gargoyle and him leaving her high and dry the next morning. In fact, she’d never once mentioned to anyone that she had any involvement with gargoyles at all.

“I tripped. Somebody’s foot was sticking out.”

Mitch nodded. “That explains.”

“What?”

He lifted an envelope that had been lying next to the cash register. “This money and the note, stating it was to cover the drinks you dropped.”

She hurried over and snatched the envelope, ignored the bills, and pulled out the folded piece of paper. She didn’t even need to open it and read it; she knew it was from Griffin. It faintly bore his scent, but more than that, she could feel his magic on the note.

Please accept my humble apologies for startling your waitress. This should more than cover the expenses incurred. Consider giving her whatever is left over as a tip. Thank you. G

“I don’t want any of it. If there’s any left over,” she hastily added.

“Why not? There’s enough in there to double the tips you made tonight.”

It was tempting. She could definitely use the money. Toddlers were expensive. But— “No. Keep it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She almost always worked weekends because first, there were far more tips to be made than on a random Tuesday afternoon, and second, it was easier to secure a babysitter than during the week when everyone else worked too.

After bidding her boss good night, Sofia shivered as she stepped out into the cooling night air. It was September, and New Orleans didn’t usually see relief from the oppressive heat until October, at least. Yet in the last few hours the temperature had dropped into the sixties, which was chilly for a girl wearing shorts and a thin T-shirt and who had been raised in the Deep South. Even if she was a dragon.

She lived only a few blocks from Mitch’s Place, so she always walked to and from work, which meant sometimes she was striding down the street alone at two in the morning. Twice since she started working there she’d encountered some asshole human who decided she was a helpless girl. She’d simply growled and let steam escape from her nostrils, and each time, the guy had hightailed it out of there like his pants were on fire. Which they would have been had he attempted to lay a hand on her.

Helpless girl she most certainly was not.

Angry? Yeah, she was definitely angry. Especially when she reached the path leading to her front door and there was a gargoyle perched on the stoop. Stopping on the sidewalk, she snapped, “I thought I told you to get the hell out of here.”

He rose to his feet, and Sofia cursed herself for enjoying the fluid motion of his movements. Everything the guy had done four years ago had been smooth and velvety and gentle and seemingly caring. Until he left—without his infant daughter.

Now, she hated his stylish light brown hair, his thick stubble, those chocolaty-brown eyes, and she especially hated his soft, kissable lips. Oh yeah, and those abs. She hated his abs. And his biceps. And his muscular thighs. And…she hated everything about him.

Except his baby girl. Oh gods, was he really here to take her back? Because he sure as hell hadn’t wanted the child four years ago, and Sofia had become attached—for crying out loud, little Penelope called her Mommy—and she was not about to let this guy have her.

No matter what.

“You did,” he acknowledged, stalking toward her in the same way that had seduced her the first time they met. Except last time there had been a tiny infant snuggled in his big, strong arms. “But I can’t.”

“Why not? Your wings broken?” She crossed her arms and thrust a hip, frowning, deliberately trying to send him go away vibes.

“No, but I can’t leave all the same.”

Well, if that wasn’t cryptic as all get out…

The front door opened and Clarice, the young human woman who babysat for her most weekends, stepped onto the tiny porch with her backpack slung over one shoulder. She was a med student who wanted to go into pediatrics, and when she wasn’t doing rotations, she was more than happy to spend her weekends babysitting and studying.

Clarice glanced at Griffin, and her eyes flared in the same way probably every woman who saw him for the first time did. “Erm, hi.” She dragged her gaze away from his chest and waved at Sofia. “Is this the hot guy with the northern accent?”

Sofia was certain her face was turning seventeen shades of red as she refused to look in Griffin’s direction. “This is the guy I was worried would show up, yes.”

“Did you tell her I was hot, or did she deduce that on her own?” Griffin wanted to know.

Sofia ignored him. After a pause in the conversation that stretched into uncomfortable territory, Clarice said, “Well, um, Penelope’s been out since eight. She ate all her vegetables, and I gave her a bath and took her for a walk before bedtime since it was so nice out today.”

It was their usual routine. Clarice rattled off Penelope’s evening while Sofia dipped into her tips for payment. Except Griffin was also here tonight, and he had his wallet in his hand, opening the flap.

“What are you doing?” Sofia demanded.

“I take it this is the babysitter?” he asked, nodding at Clarice.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Clarice responded.

“So how much do I owe you?”

She gave him a puzzled look. Sofia didn’t blame the poor girl. For one thing, Sofia had never brought a man home after her shift at the bar, and, if she had, he probably wouldn’t be offering to pay the babysitter. Hell, few people even knew she was raising a toddler. Sofia kept a low profile.

“You are not paying my babysitter.” She strode up the walk and thrust cash into Clarice’s hand.

Clarice glanced at Griffin again and then said, “I’ll be back tomorrow at four.”

“You’re working again tomorrow?” Griffin said, looking to Sofia for an answer.

 “Thanks, Clarice. Have a good night.”

The babysitter skirted around them and headed toward her car.

“I can’t decide if I should go with you to work or stay here and take care of the child.”

Sofia stared at Griffin as if he’d just turned into a dragon, dropped to one knee, and declared them fated mates. “Excuse me?”

“I said—”

“I heard you. I just don’t understand you.”

He frowned. “Seems pretty self-explanatory. Either I go with you or—”

She slashed her hand through the air, cutting him off. “You aren’t doing anything at all that has to do with me or Penelope. All you are doing is leaving. Now.”

“You kept her name.”

“Of course I did. My world was flipped on its side plenty enough with an infant abandoned on my bedroom floor without me trying to come up with a new name for the poor kid.”

He winced like she’d slapped him, which admittedly gave her a tiny bit of self-satisfaction.

“I probably could have handled that whole situation a little better.”

Probably?” Was this man serious? Wait, it didn’t matter. She did not need to spend a single second longer thinking about him or what he did to her. With her nose in the air, she deliberately skirted around him and headed into the house, slamming the door and flipping the deadbolt.

A scant moment later, the lock twisted of its own accord, the door opened again, and Griffin stepped inside.

Sofia sighed. Gargoyles and their annoying magic. Penelope was starting to show signs of being able to create magic, although so far, she’d not experienced any sort of shifting capabilities. Sofia had no idea if that was normal, since she knew precious little about gargoyles. All she knew was that they were great in bed and they left you with their unwanted offspring when they were done.

“I want to see her,” Griffin demanded. He kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag by the front door, and moved deeper into the house.

Bringing an overnight bag was damned presumptuous of the man.

“Why now? Why are you back, four years later?”

He dragged his hand through his thick hair, setting it to standing on end. He looked like he had after their first round of rather energetic sex. Incredibly hot. Hot enough that she’d dived in for round two.

And three.

Ugh.

“I should probably explain a few things to you,” he said, taking in her tiny abode and probably finding it lacking. Well, too bad; it was hard to survive when one was ostracized from one’s colony and unexpectedly left to raise a helpless child, alone.

Sofia decided to go with honesty. Maybe it would convince him to leave. “You know, if you’d shown up six months later, maybe even up to a year, I would have been willing to hear you out. But that child has been fatherless for four years now, and I am not interested in rocking her world just because you suddenly decided to man up. You should never have left her, and as far as I’m concerned, you have no rights to her whatsoever any longer.”

He raked his hand through his hair again. She really wished he’d stop doing that.

“One thing I should have told you back then was that she isn’t mine.”

…ooooh, keep reading on June 2nd: LET GO MY GARGOYLE

Tami Lund drinks wine and writes books, often at the same time. She’s multi-talented like that. Check out her website for all the books she’s written: https://tamilund.com/

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