Page 35 of Protective Pucking Orc

He finally looked down at her, and the way his expression softened made my chest ache. “I’m glad you like them.”

“Like them? I love them!” She squirmed until he set her down, then grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the couch. “Come see! Mama read me three books already, but I want you to read the next one!”

I watched him follow her, his movements stiff, like he was trying to hold himself back. His gear bag thudded to the floor, and I noticed the way his practice jersey clung to his chest, damp with sweat. He hadn’t even showered. He’d come straight here.

For us.

The realization sent a warmth through me that had nothing to do with the pain meds.

Rosa plopped onto the couch, patting the spot beside her. “Sit! Please?”

Dakvaar hesitated, then sank down beside her, his massive frame making the cushion dip. He smelled like sweat and metal, like the sharp, clean scent of a winter storm.

I found myself breathing it in, my pulse fluttering in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

Rosa thrust a book into his hands—a picture book about a girl who tamed dragons—and he opened it carefully, his claws tapping against the pages as he began to read. His voice was low, rumbling, and Rosa leaned against his side, her dark head tucked under his arm like she belonged there, like the sweating didn’t matter.

I should’ve been used to it by now. The way she trusted him. The way he let her.

But seeing it now, after everything he’d done—after the gifts, after the way he’d looked at me when he walked in—it made my throat tight.

I busied myself in the kitchen, pulling out the groceries he’d left by the door. Potatoes, steak, fresh vegetables. Things that cost more than I could justify spending on myself.

Things he’d bought for us.

My hands trembled as I unpacked them, my mind racing. How was I supposed to repay this? How was I supposed to⁠—

“Mama!”

I turned to see Rosa bouncing toward me, her pigtails swinging. “Dak says we can make dinner together! Can we? Please?”

I forced a smile. “Of course, mija.”

She grabbed my hand, dragging me back into the living room. Dakvaar was already standing, and when he pulled off his practice jersey to reveal the shirt underneath—which outlined the muscles of his stomach—my throat went a little dry.

“I’m going to go shower,” he announced. “Then we can grill the steak.”

“Sounds great,” I managed, trying not to be obvious about the way I watched his butt as he turned around.

Later, he met us in the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves to reveal a pair of deliciously corded forearms. “Who’s ready to help peel veggies?”

“I don’t like bejtables, but I’m good at chopping!” Rosa declared seriously, climbing up to the stool by the counter. As we worked, she asked a million questions about Dakvaar’s job.

“How fast do you skate?”

“Sometimes as fast as a car.”

“Do you ever fall?”

“All the time.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. But the ice is cold, so it numbs it.”

She gasped. “Like when I lick the freezer?”

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound. “You lick the freezer? I mean, I guess so.”