Max spotted us between verses and waved our way.
Becken gave the boy a solemn nod, which delighted Max.
“You’re good with kids,” I said.
“They ask direct questions,” he said. “No hidden agendas.”
I watched him watching the children, noting how his expression softened. There were layers to this grumpy orc I hadn’t expected. Beneath the stoic exterior was someone who cared deeply about his work, the sorhoxes, everyone living in this town.
I returned my attention to my food.
“How are you finding the hotel?” he asked after turning back to face me.
“It’s comfortable, though I think I’m one of the only guests who’s not a tourist.”
“Other than me. I’m staying in the hotel as well, until I figure out if I’m going to remain on the surface. Most of the others are here for the authentic orc cowboy experience.” He grimaced. “Whatever that means.”
“Says the orc wearing a cowboy hat and authentic-appearing boots.”
“We had ranches in the orc kingdom, but nothing like this Western setup.”
“No ten-gallon hats underground?”
“None whatsoever.” His dry delivery made me laugh.
A group of women at a nearby table watched Becken with obvious interest, whispering to each other and casting appreciative glances his way. He remained oblivious to the attention, focused entirely on our conversation.
For some reason, this pleased me.
We finished our meals talking about the rodeo program and our plans for the next day’s work. By the time our plates were empty, I’d thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I started to lift my hand toward Jessi for a bill before I remembered her words.
“Staff eat free,” Becken. “One of the benefits.”
“Right,” I grabbed my clutch. It wasn’t that uncommon for the ranches where I’d worked to feed all the staff in one big room. Restaurant dining and a menu was completely different.
We stood at the same time, and I was reminded of how tall and big he was compared to me, and I was five-nine. As we walked toward the stairs, I felt strangely aware of his presence beside me, like an invisible current ran between us. Such an odd thought.
“We’re still on for early tomorrow morning?” I said as we climbed the steps.
“Sounds good. Wear a warm coat. Mornings are cold this time of year.”
We reached my door. I paused, my key in hand, unsure of the proper protocol. This wasn’t a date; it was dinner between colleagues. So why did it feel like I should suggest we hang out a bit longer?
Becken stood nearby, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. “The sweater really does suit you. It’s honest.”
Before I could formulate a response to that unexpected comment, he nodded and continued down the hall.
I slipped into my room and closed the door, leaning against it. My hand drifted up to touch the reindeer on my sweater, its nose still blinking faithfully.
Honest, he’d said. Not pretty. Not cute. Honest. Coming from him, it felt like the highest compliment.
I shook my head, trying to dismiss the warm feeling spreading through my chest. This was a job, not a holiday romance. In less than a month, I’d be gone, moving on to the next job, the next town.
But as I got ready for bed, I remembered his smile, so genuine it had transformed his entire face. Maybe that was what drew me to him, the sense that everything about him was genuine. No pretense, no games. Honesty, even when it came wrapped in grumpiness.
I set my alarm for well before dawn and climbed into bed, telling myself I was excited about the rodeo program, not about seeing a certain orc cowboy again.
