Page 122 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

“Twelve minutes.”

He groaned. “That’s forever.”

Traig set his tablet on the table and went to the refrigerator, pulling out the pitcher of tea. He poured two glasses, handing one to Drogar, and looked toward me.

“Yes, please.”

He poured me one as well.

“You could wait in the other room,” I told Drogar.

“I could, but I won’t.”

Fred floated over and bumped into Drogar’s shoulder. Amanda hissed from her new perch on top of the cookie jar, her stick raised.

“She doesn’t like me, does she?” Drogar asked.

“She doesn’t like anyone,” Traig said. “Except Fred and Willa and sometimes me.”

Amanda’s crown softened to pink.

“See?” I said. “She’s warming up to you.”

Drogar looked unsure but reached out slowly. Amanda allowed him to scratch the top of her head with one finger before she hissed again and leaped off the container, jumping through the air to land on Fred’s back.

“Progress,” I said. “Hissing means she likes you. More or less.”

“I think less.”

The timer chimed.

Drogar straightened like I’d called his name.

I pulled the tray from the oven and set it on the cooling rack. The smell of cinnamon and brown sugar filled the kitchen.

“How long until I can eat one?” Drogar asked.

“A few minutes. They need to cool.”

“That’s forever.”

“You’ll survive.”

The moment I said okay, he dove toward the cooling rack.

“These are the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he said around the third one.

“You said that last time.”

“I meant it last time too.” He held up the container. “Can I take some?”

“Sure.”

“A full container?”

I laughed. “Yes, Drogar. I made a triple batch. You can have a full container.”

His grin showed both tusks. “You’re my favorite human.”