Beth unwrapped it to reveal a handmade quilt, each square representing a different aspect of Lonesome Creek. “It’sbeautiful,” she breathed, tracing the stitching. “Look, Ruugar, there’s even a sorhox square.”
“Your youngling will always know where they belong,” Holly said.
One by one, gifts were opened, Beth squealing at both practical items like diapers and pacifiers to more personal offerings. Hail and Allie gave them a set of pottery dishes designed specifically for a baby’s first foods. Tark and Gracie presented a mobile crafted from miniature sorhoxes that would hang above the crib.
My heart hurt to be included in this special time in their lives. But I found my gaze drawn to Becken. He stood slightly apart from the main group, his arms crossed on his chest. His eyes softened when Beth exclaimed over the gifts, and the corner of his mouth twitched up when Ruugar fumbled with delicate tissue paper.
When it was my turn, I handed over my wrapped package with an apologetic smile. “It’s not much.”
Beth unwrapped it to reveal a children’s book with illustrations of forest animals. “Oh, I love this.” She flipped through the pages. “The baby will need stories about our wonderful world. It’s lovely, thank you.” Her sincerity eased my earlier embarrassment.
Becken retrieved his gift and brought it over to her. “I made your youngling’s gift.”
Beth carefully unwrapped the brown paper to reveal a small wooden carving of a sorhox in a protective stance, its head lowered as if guarding something precious.
“In the orc kingdom, we place protective statues like this near younglings to ward off harm.”
“Becken.” Beth’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s beautiful.”
This grumpy, serious male had carved something with his own hands, filling it with meaning and tradition. My heart ached with emotion I couldn’t name.
Our eyes met across the room again, but the moment broke when Aunt Inla called for refreshments. I volunteered to help Jessi bring food from the kitchen, grateful for the chance to do something. The kitchen behind the saloon smelled of spices and cookies.
“You okay?” Jessi asked, loading a tray with thick, hearty sandwiches full of meats from orc kingdom beasts and cheese. “You seem distracted.”
“I’m just tired from tree hunting. It was a long day.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Her skeptical look told me she wasn’t fooled. “Nothing to do with the way you and Becken keep looking at each other, then?”
“We’re working together, that’s all.”
“If you say so.” She handed me a tray of cookies. “Though for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he does at you.”
The kitchen door swung open and Becken strode inside. “Aunt Inla sent me to help.” His eyes found mine immediately.
“Perfect timing.” Jessi shot me a knowing glance before loading Becken’s arms with the heaviest trays. “I’ll leave you two to manage these while I get the punch.”
She disappeared through the swinging door, leaving us alone in the suddenly too-small kitchen. The hum of conversation from the saloon seemed distant, muffled by the thundering of my pulse in my ears.
“How are you?” Becken asked.
“Good. Fine.” I busied myself arranging the cookies on the tray.
“You have tinsel in your hair.” He gently tugged it out.
Electricity raced down my spine. We both froze, caught in a moment that stretched between us like spun glass, fragile and shimmering.
His eyes darkened, and his throat worked as he swallowed.
I swayed toward him. “Becken, I?—”
The kitchen door swung open again, and we sprang apart. Lavon entered, focused on a clipboard in his hands. “Jessi said you might need help with—” He looked up, taking in our flushed faces and awkward postures. “Ah. Perhaps not.”
“Hold the door for me, would you?” Becken said, striding past Lavon.
I followed him back to the saloon, my skin still tingling from where his fingers had brushed my hair.
The evening progressed, but I found it increasingly difficult to focus on the celebrations. My awareness of Becken dominated my senses, from where he stood, who he talked to, to whether he was looking my way.
