“You look like you’re questioning every life choice that led you here,” I observe.
His eyes widen slightly. “Is it that obvious?” His voice is a low, warm rumble that does ridiculous things to my heartbeat.
“The expression of barely concealed panic? Yeah, it’s pretty clear.” I lean back in my chair. “I’m Jordan. And you’re clearly wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“Forge,” he says, and I catch the hint of surprise in his voice, like he didn’t expect honest conversation. “And yes, that’s accurate.”
“What’s your story? Let me guess—your buddies convinced you this would be fun?”
“Something like that. You?”
“Best friend needed moral support for her quest to find her soulmate among your colleagues.”
We look at each other for a moment, and I realize this is the first genuine conversation I’ve had all evening. He’s not trying to impress me with urban farming knowledge or torture me with dad jokes. He’s just… talking to me like I’m a person.
“How’s that going for her?” he asks.
I glance over at her, and although I can’t see her facial expression, her slumped shoulders tell me all I need to know. “About as well as your evening, I’m guessing.”
A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “And you?”
“Well, I’ve learned more about soil composition than I ever wanted to know, been subjected to scarecrow puns, and had one guy tell me his ideal first date would be visiting a mushroom farm.”
“A mushroom farm?”
“Apparently they’re ‘fascinating ecosystems that demonstrate the interconnectedness of all living things.’” I use air quotes as I mimic his earnest tone.
He smiles, and it transforms his entire face. “That must have been Rakk. Try working with him on twenty-four-hour shifts.”
His careful, nervous expression melts away, revealing a warmth that feels unguarded, even a little playful. The tension in my stomach uncoils, and I’m suddenly, stupidly aware of the way his amber eyes catch the light, glowing with a spark that makes me want to lean closer—even though I shouldn’t.
“Did you find it… educational?” he asks diplomatically.
“Very. Though I must admit, your colleague Kam’s terrible jokes were actually a highlight.”
“Kam’s jokes are legendary. In the worst possible way.”
The bell rings before either of us can say more, but as he stands to move to the next table, I find myself wishing I had five more minutes with him.
“Good luck with the rest of this, Forge.”
It’s the first time I’ve used anyone’s name all evening, and something flickers in his expression—surprise, maybe, and a flash of pleased relief.
The final round with a handsome wolven is so painful, my cheek muscles hurt from fake enthusiasm. How many times in five minutes can one male lamely hit on one woman?
By the time the bell frees me, my face hurts from smiling. Riley finds me by the refreshment table, her expression as deflated as mine.
“Well?” I ask.
“Train wreck,” she says flatly. “Complete and utter fiasco. I did not see my orc from the clip. I did get a minotaur—Bront—who spent five minutes on soil composition and crop rotation.”
“Ah, you met the urban farming enthusiast.”
“You got him, too?”
“Round two. Very… passionate about sustainable agriculture.”
Before I can respond, Chief Brokka’s voice interrupts the din.
