My entire life was spilling out of me, but I was nervous. I trusted him. It wasn’t that. But this could actually be an almost-date.
“We’re not close,” I said. “She moved to Florida and met someone new. I have two younger half-siblings I don’t see often. I’m a homebody and love staying right here. She doesn’t like the area. Says it’s too rural. I guess she’s a big city girl, though it’s hard to remember because she left so long ago. I’ve visited a few times, and she’s come here, staying in a hotel and taking me shopping or to the mall in Bangor, but it’s always awkward.”
“I understand.”
I sensed he did, and that was refreshing. He didn’t push for more details or try to explain everything away. He just listened.
He gave me a quick tour, opening the bedroom door to reveal a good-sized room with an enormous bed, neatly made, then on to the kitchen adjacent to the living room that was equally orc-sized.
“You can sit,” he said, waving to the island with stools tall enough I might need my stepladder to reach them. “I’ll handle this.”
I climbed up while he watched with a twitch of his lips. Turning away, he started pulling out pans from underneath the counter and pulling out ingredients I didn’t recognize from the fridge and arranging them on the counter with the same care he used when handling creatures. He worked quickly, chopping, measuring, stirring, and I savored the flex of muscle in his forearms and the way his hair fell forward when he leaned over the pan.
He glanced over his shoulder and caught me staring.
I looked away fast, heat crawling up my neck.
“What?” I asked, as if I hadn’t just been memorizing the shape of his ass and the way he moved.
“Nothing.” But the corner of his mouth twitched. “You can watch. I don’t mind.”
“I wasn’t?—”
“You were.”
My face burned. “I was observing. Professionally.”
“Professionally.”
“Yes. I like to know what I’m eating.”
“That’s very practical.” He turned back to the stove, but I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I’m making something orcish, if that’s alright,” he said.
“That would be amazing. I haven’t tried many orc dishes, but I’ve loved what I have tried. What’s on the menu tonight?”
“Trevaughn. My mother makes it on special occasions.” He glanced over his shoulder before returning to his work.
“Had you planned to make it anyway?” I wasn’t sure why it mattered, though a tiny part of me hoped he was preparing it because us having a meal together was a special occasion.
“I was going to eat leftovers.”
“I would’ve shared those with you. There was no need to go out of your way.”
His hand holding the spatula stilled, though he didn’t look back. “I wanted to share this with you.”
Did he… No, I couldn’t start thinking that. If I did, I’d get my hopes up, and they’d been dashed more times than I’d like.
“What’s in it?” I asked, directing the conversation away before my entire body was scarlet.
“Vegetables. Meat. And a root vegetable that’s like a potato. Everything came from the orc kingdom. We have regular deliveries. We enjoy your food too but sometimes, it’s nice to eat what tastes like home.”
He chopped the meat and seared it in a pan, its savory scent swirling through the air. Once it had partly cooked, he added sliced vegetables, stirring everything together while it sizzled. Fresh herbs followed, and my belly growled at the yummy smell.
He served the meal in wide bowls that were too big for me and sat beside me at the island. Closer than necessary, maybe, but neither of us adjusted.
“Enjoy,” he said, and watched me take the first bite with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
