“How’s it going?” I ask from the doorway.
“Almost ready to reboot,” he says without looking up. “You sure you want to hang around? It might take a while.”
“I caused the problem. Feels wrong to bail.”
He nods, approving. “Good ethics. Grab a chair.”
I sit beside him, pretending to follow the technical stuff while mostly admiring his hands. His fingers are… massive. Long. Thick. What it might feel like with them all over my…
“So,” I say after a minute, watching him type, “do IT guys ever, you know, leave on time? Or is that against your job description?”
He chuckles, low and warm. “We’re supposed to. Lance bolts at five sharp. He’s got a wife and kids. Brill… vanishes for a ‘spiritual server alignment’ ceremony. By the time I usually notice it’s late, it’s just me here.”
“Sounds about right,” I mutter.
“Work-life balance,” he says with a grin, “is… optional.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding thinking of how my entire life feels like survival.
That earns me a tusky grin, the kind that makes my chest feel too small for my heart.
A few minutes pass, the only sound is the quiet humof the servers and Greg’s typing. My stomach growls, betraying me. I clear my throat. “Okay, question two. Do IT guys eat dinner? Or are you powered by pure efficiency?”
He glances over, mouth quirking. “Depends on the IT guy.”
“Right. Well, this admin is starving,” I say, pulling up a delivery app on my phone. “Fair warning: I order like I’m feeding a small village.”
He hesitates, a faint wrinkle forming between his brows. “You don’t have to?—”
“I know,” I cut in. “But you’re saving the company from a catastrophic meltdown I may or may not have caused, so the least I can do is buy you something greasy and unwise.”
Greg’s expression softens. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” I thumb through the options. “There’s a pizza place not too far—Ogre’s Oven?”
That earns me another of his sweet yet devastating smiles. “Oh, they’re my favorite. Greasy in the best possible way.”
“What if I get half ‘Mega Meat Mountain,’ half ‘Veggie Void.’ You know, for balance.”
“You’re on. Except, how about ordering a full pie of each?” He pats his firm stomach. “Cleaning up your chaos created a sizable appetite.”
“Perfect,” I say, thumbing the order. “They’re right around the corner from my side gig. Been meaning to check them out.”
He glances at me, eyes softening. “You work somewhere else?”
“Yeah. Gorgon’s Griddle. I actually used to work there full time, but there’s no health insurance, and it was murder on my feet. After I got hired here, I kept a few weekend shifts. Helps keep me busy… and keeps me from drowning in a mountain of debt.”
“Must be exhausting.”
“Sometimes. But bills don’t pay themselves.”
There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe. It hits me unexpectedly deep.
The monitor pings. Greg straightens. “Here we go.”
He types a command, glances at me, and grins. “Time for a little Control-Alt-Delete reboot magic.”
“Don’t you mean Control-Alt-Orc?”
