“See? You understand me.” He grinned, all tusks and confidence, and for a second, I understood why half the audience swooned when he skated out onto the ice.
Movement at the open doorway snagged my attention.
Tolrek stood there, still in practice gear, his hair pulled back. He’d been there long enough to see us. To hear us, maybe. His expression gave me nothing, but his posture had changed in a way I felt more than saw. It didn’t feel aggressive or possessive. Just the type of attention that made the rest of the room go quiet.
Crim noticed. I watched him notice and make a choice.
He finished his shake in two long swallows and rose from the table, his chair screeching back on the tile floor. “I’m going to grab a shower before the afternoon session.” He nodded as he passed. “Looking solid out there this morning, Tolrek.”
“Thanks.”
The door swung shut behind Crim with a soft click that felt overly loud.
Tolrek hadn’t moved from his spot by the wall.
“How’s Beau?” I asked.
“Fine.”
“Good.” I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the toy. “I picked this up for him. It’s nothing. Just a chew toy. He seemed like the kind of dog who’d destroy it in under a week and be very pleased with himself.”
I held it out.
“More like three years. Beau’s teeth are tiny. No tusks.” Tolrek looked from the toy to me. Then back at the toy.
He crossed the space between us and took it from my hand, his fingers touching mine for half a second. His were warm and much larger than mine.
“Thank you,” he said.
“It’s not much.”
“Beau will think it’s wonderful.”
The next few moments cost me more than they should have. He stood with the toy in one hand, looking at me like he was trying to figure out what I’d meant. I stood where I was, knowing exactly what I’d meant and pretending I didn’t.
He turned and left without saying another word.
I stared at the space he’d vacated, slowly releasing my breath.
I’d started crossing the room when the door opened again, and Brashe stepped inside.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.” He strode to the coffee maker. “You were here early.”
“Tape prep.”
“Yes. The exhibition package.” He poured himself some coffee, added what looked like half a container of creamer, and turned to lean against the counter. “Can I ask you something?”
“That depends on the question.”
“Were you the one who drew the dog?”
My pulse kicked up. “What?”
“Tolrek’s dog. Someone drew him. I’m wondering if it was you.”
I could’ve lied. Should’ve, probably. “How do you know about that?”
