“No,” I told him honestly. “I had a sandwich from a fast-food joint on the mainland before I caught the ferry over here. I’m just…”
When he turned his head—not far enough to see his face, just the hard line of his jaw—I supposed he was waiting for me to finish. So I sighed and sank down into the couch cushions.
“Tired?” he supplied.
“Yeah.”
Yeah, Iwastired.
Tired of being worried, tired of being confused.
Tired of being manipulated and not knowing what the future would bring and wondering if I’d have enough money to survive.
Justtired.
With a grunt, Garrak stalked to the bedroom, and I thought that was it, until he returned with a set of clean sheets and a pillow. He set it all up without meeting my eye and even seemed a little embarrassed—could orcs blush?—when he laid out a cozy throw quilt on top of the sheets.
“Sorry it’s not full-sized. Well, it might be big enough for you. My mother made it as a lap blanket and—” He bit off his words abruptly. “I’ll turn up the heat.”
My fingertips rested on the worn fabric. “It’s lovely,” I said softly. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Longspear.”
I would be. I’d survived worse—much worse.
Maybe he guessed that, because I saw the muscles in his jaw tighten again as he nodded abruptly. “My name’s Garrak.”
I ducked my chin. “Garrak,” I repeated in a whisper, not sure why I was embarrassed.
“Good girl,” he murmured, before nodding again—in approval?—and limping toward the bedroom.
I watched him go, wondering at his gait, and wondering why his praise made me feel so warm.
This was a strange place, and I didn’t know how safe I was. That sort of environment doesnotmake for good sleep, yeah? I fully intended to wait until I didn’t hear Garrak moving around in the other room, then give him an hour to fall asleep…and then I’d start snooping. I figured there wassomethingin this place I could use to learn about him. At that point, I still wasn’t sure what I wanted out of him—was I going to manipulate him into fucking me, so Dad’s debt would be paid, and he wouldn’t go to the LeClair brothers?—or was I looking for a way out of the mess completely?
Either way, I pulled my e-reader out of my backpack, called up the latest romance I’d borrowed from the Orleans Parish library, and settled in for a few hours of reading. I figured by midnight, I could start snooping…
Imagine my surprise when I not only fell asleep but stayed asleep the entire night.
When I opened my eyes, my e-reader was lying across my chest—book girlies get the struggle!—and the light coming through the large window told me it was well past dawn. I felt…comfortable?
No, that wasn’t it. Cozy?Safe.
I laid there in that bed Garrak had made me on his couch, and I realized I’d slept through the night because I’d feltsafe.
Huh.
It took me a minute to realize what had woken me; the sound of the shower being turned off. Garrak must be dressing in the bathroom. Hastily, I pushed myself upright and set about making my temporary bed. My palms lingered on the well-loved quilt as I smoothed it out reverently, wondering about his mother. I thought orcs were relatively new to our world; had his mother come with him and then learned to sew? This quilt looked much older than a decade…
When the bathroom door opened and Garrak stepped out, I forgot all thoughts about his mother, or even his past.
Because my entire focus was onhim, and the delicious way his wet hair curled at his temples, and the drips of water on his throat. He was wearing only a large white, fluffy towel wrapped around his midsection, and with all those muscles—damn, I don’t think I’d ever seen a chest like his!—I almost didn’t notice the fact he only had one leg.
With a carefully neutral expression, Garrak nodded to me, shifted his hold on his forearm cane, and swung his weight toward the bedroom. I watched him go, and I’ll admit that I was onlya little bithoping that his towel might accidentally come undone and fall off in time for me to admire what I knew would be a firm ass.
When the door shut behind him, I shook my head at myself and jumped up to make use of the bathroom.
By the time I emerged in fresh panties, a black t-shirt, and the same pair of jeans—I only had those and the soft yoga pants I’d slept in last night—there was, indeed, bacon cooking in the kitchen. I followed my nose and stopped in the doorway.
Garrak’s back was to me as he stood at the stove. Beside him rested a mug of something that steamed, and a half-eaten donut on a napkin. I’m not sure why the sight of this big male enjoying his morning treat made me smile, but it did.
