It was a struggle to stop the smile from crossing my face, but I persevered, biting my lower lip as I whispered, “If you rip the menu, you’ll have to pay extra.”
His brow knitted for a long moment before realization flashed into his face and he glanced down. “Shit,” he swore, releasing the menu until it flopped onto the table in front of him. “Sorry.” He smoothed his hands down the face of it, but there wasn’t much that could be done to save it.
“It’s alright,” I told him, flipping it open and watching it fall apart at the seams. “I’ll put it on Hans’ tab.”
“Hans?” he asked, but it was more of a low breath of sound than anything else. I looked up in time to see his eyes glued on my breasts. I smothered a smile as I stood up.
“The owner. He’ll cover it for you. So don’t worry about it,” I added with a wink.
Krusk’s lips parted again and he stared at me in a long moment of silence before I glanced at the menu again indicating that I was waiting.
“Oh,” he gasped, flipping it open and watching in horror as the pages fluttered to the table. “I’ll have… Um…” he stared at the pages for a long moment before he looked up at me with a rueful smile. “I’ll have whatever you recommend.”
I pretended to cough to cover the second laugh of the night—certain that I hadn’t laughed this much inyears—and I picked up his mangled menu. “Okay. Your appetite is in my hands,” I told him with a wink.
He nodded eagerly and I turned to head back to the kitchen,giddiness filling my stomach. I hadn’t felt anything like that inages. Perhapsnever. Once I was inside, I made sure that I was scowling instead of smiling as I found everyone in the kitchen turned around to look at me with matching grins.
“You’re paying for this,” I told him, my glare lethal.
“Yeah, yeah,” Hans scoffed, turning to face me with his arms crossed. “Now tell me what happened.”
I sighed, letting my head fall back onto the metal surface of the door, wishing I could knock myself out. Or wake myself up. This was a dream, right?
“Nothinghappened,” I sighed, shaking my head as the entire staff groaned, going back to what they were doing now that there weren’t any juicy updates. “I tried to take his order and he said he’d have whatever I recommend.”
Eyes and bodies swung back in my direction, grins on their faces while Hans’ grin was filled with satisfaction. “I see,” he purred, rubbing his hands together. “Then we’ll just have to dazzle him, won’t we?”
I didn’t like the sound of that. And Iespeciallydidn’t like the look on his face.
“After all, the way to any male’s heart is through his stomach,” Rhondda said from where she was perched on the counter near the door.
I startled, pressing my hand to my chest before I scowled at her. “What are you evendoinghere?” I demanded. “You’re on the clock.”
“I’m on break,” she answered, waggling her eyebrows before lifting the can of soda next to her with her elegant blue hands and taking a sip. “And I’minvested.”
“Of course you are,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. She was a true romantic, believing that every date she went on would bethe one.
“How much do you know about orcs?” Hans called from wherehe was gathering ingredients.
I frowned, shaking my head. “Not much. I know the basics, but not more than that,” I told him. “Why?”
“You should look into them then,” he told me, glancing back at me, his eyes glittering with amusement. “And see what this type of behavior would mean for a male.”
Suspicion filled me and I asked, “Do you speak orcish?” in a low enough voice that the only other being that heard was Rhondda. She leaned forward, intrigued, but I was still looking at Hans.
“Yep,” he said with a grin. “One of my best mates as a child was an orc. It was an odd pairing, but we still get together for a beer every week.”
“Do you…” I cleared my throat, uneasy with the question, but after a short hesitation, I decided to blurt it out. “Do you know whatZemarmeans?” I was definitely butchering the way he’d said it, the deep guttural intonation different in my mouth.
Hans’ grin was delighted as he turned to face me. “Oh, Em, you’re going to have to ask him that one on your own.”
“I did,” I defended, scuffing my comfortable shoes on the floor with embarrassment. “He said that it’s an endearment.”
“It is,” Hans said, grinning as he went back to prepping. “It meansmy heart.” He emphasized the last two words, hefting his pasta-maker to the countertop.
My eyes widened in shock at both the words as well as the appliance. Hans didn’t break out his Italian skills for justanyone. “Something special planned?” I asked, but my words were more of a gasp.
He’d called me his heart.
