His face closed off again.
“Or not,” I added lamely.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yes, yes, tomorrow.” I leaped to my feet and without a goodbye, fled all the way to my hotel room, where I splashed water on my face at the sink and stared into the mirror.
“You, Carla,” I whispered. “Need to get your shit together.”
Chapter 14
Becken
The upper floor of the function barn smelled like leather and hay and was packed with supplies we’d need for the Christmas parade. Carla knelt on the floor, surrounded by red fabric and what looked like enough bells to outfit an entire herd of sorhoxes. She held up two curved pieces of felt, frowning at them like they’d personally offended her.
“These antlers are amazing,” she said, waving the fabric horns. “The sorhoxes will look fantastic wearing them.”
“Sorhoxes have horns,” I grumbled, sorting through the equipment I’d stored up here for tourists. Harnesses, saddles, though I doubted Santa’s reindeer wore anything like that. “Why do they need fake ones?”
“Because sorhox horns curve forward into lethal spikes. Reindeer horns branch upward on top of their head.”
“That makes perfect sense.”
“See? I knew you’d agree.” She fed me a sunny smile, though a hint of shadows lurked in her eyes. Was she feeling as unsettled as me about working together like this? We hadn’t discussed where this mate bond might go from here, and Iwasn’t sure how to bring it up. The thought of her leaving felt worse than taking a blade straight through the chest.
But did I truly want her to stay? Whenever I thought of asking her if she’d consider remaining longer to give us time to figure this out, I felt guilty. Yes, Wexla would want me to be happy but knowing that and translating it into actions was a challenge.
“I can’t believe you volunteered us for this,” I said.
“I volunteered us for a lot of things.” She glanced up, and something in her expression made me freeze. “I’m beginning to wonder if that was smart.”
We’d been working together for three days since returning from the cabin, maintaining careful professional distance while planning every detail of Lonesome Creek’s Christmas celebration. The mating marks remained hidden under long sleeves, but I felt the pull between us constantly. Each time she leaned close to examine my sketches. Each accidental brush of our hands. And each shared smile over a human tradition I didn’t understand. They all shot awareness through me.
She’d thrown herself into the Christmas preparations with the same intensity she brought to everything, patiently explaining each custom as we planned. Watching her find joy in creating the traditions she’d never had was both wonderful and painful. Sitting with her in my office to make plans for the rodeo was pure torture. She smelled sweet.
She smelled like mine.
“Hand me that red collar.” She pointed to the pile of costume pieces.
I passed it over, our fingers touching as she took it. The contact lasted barely a second, but electricity shot up my arm. Her breath caught, and our eyes met. She dragged her gaze away, focusing on attaching bells to the collar.
“Peeka and Thrakul should work well for this.” I forced my attention back to practical matters. “They’re both calm around crowds.”
“And you’re sure they’ll tolerate wearing these decorations?” She held up the completed antler headpiece, bells jingling.
“They’ll tolerate it for me.” I hoped. “Sorhoxes are remarkably patient when they trust their handler.”
“Like orcs,” she said softly.
The comment caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“Patient when they trust someone.” She started on the second antler headpiece. “You’ve been incredibly patient with me. With my questions, my inexperience, my tendency to volunteer us for things you don’t understand or have any interest in.”
“You’re learning. That takes time.”
“I threw you off your routine. Disrupted your work with all this Christmas business.”
“We’ve accomplished a lot for the rodeo. I have a solid plan for the next year. Don’t say you’re a disruption. You’ve improved my work. The program will be better because of your ideas.”
