Page 22 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

I paused, tapping my pen on the desk.

Traig said my name, and it felt amazing.

I made myself get back to work.

CHAPTER FOUR

TRAIG

Imade it to my office before I let myself stop moving.

The door closed behind me. I set my tablet on the desk and stood staring down at it.

I’d said Willa like her name was something I’d been holding onto and finally released.

She’d looked up at me, her brown eyes soft, sunlight filtering in through the front windows winking on her glasses. I’d sworn I could see her pulse jumping at the base of her throat.

I went around my desk and sat down. Cupped my face with my hands. Sighed.

This would be fine.

People said other people’s names all the time. It was part of basic communication. Addressing someone by name was considered polite per human social customs. I’d read the orientation materials Krem had compiled about human workplace standards. Using names was encouraged. It created an intimate⁠—

No. Intimate was not the right word to use in association with Willa.

Grumbling as loud as Fred, though for a different reason, I pulled up a file on my tablet and stared at it before closing it.

Her hair had caught the light from the window. The curls framed her face. I wanted to write down the exact pattern.

I opened my email instead, finding one unread message from this morning.

Ah, yes. The voicemail from the school coordinator, Erika Collins. I’d saved the audio file and transcribed it last night.

I played the message again, and I opened a new document and started typing.

Creature Rescue League Educational Partnership Proposal.

We needed to teach human children about orc creatures. Show them the animals in various environments. Answer their questions. Help them understand that animals from the orc kingdom weren’t dangerous, just different and⁠—

I stopped typing.

Willa was good with people. Children would respond to her even better than they might with Krem, who was big and orc and, to some little humans, a touch scary.

I made myself keep typing, working long past the time when everyone else had left the building.

By midnight, I had seventy-five pages written.

My proposal went through every phase. I’d included planning for weather problems, behavioral concerns with creature species, issues children and adults might raise, and three separate appendices covering safety protocols.

I read through it twice, added a seventy-sixth page with a few more notes, and sent it to myself.

Then I closed my tablet and went to my cabin, where I ate, brushed my tusks, and climbed into bed.

I did not think about how Willa smiled when she saw I'd brought Fred to her.

I spent the next few days refining the proposal in every spare moment, adding an appendix here, tightening a paragraph there, telling myself each revision was the last one.

It wasn't.