Page 48 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

Krem grinned wide enough I wanted to throw my notebook at him. “I’ll leave the information here. If you can’t be here, Willa, I’m sure Traig can handle it.” He set a folder on the table and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Traig picked up the cookie container, studying it like it held answers.

“Two weeks,” I said, opting to discuss the school visit first.

“We’ll need to meet more often.”

“How often?”

“Daily.” He looked up. “If you’re willing.”

Daily meetings. With Traig. For the next two weeks.

Sitting close and pretending we weren’t both thinking about our kiss almost every single day of the week.

His gaze fell on my mouth, and my belly did a flip that had nothing to do with hunger.

“Good,” he said softly. “About that Saturday…”

“I want to be here. I live close by. On Main Street. The one next to the bakery. It’s only a short distance away. Better this than sit in my second-floor apartment, staring out at the river behind the building.”

“I could speak for them if you have other plans.”

“I don’t have plans. Since I only recently moved to the area, I rarely have plans.”

“You’re, um… You don’t have a mate.”

Did he think I’d kiss him if I had a mate? “No mate. No boyfriend. I haven’t dated anyone since…” I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I was with someone for five years. Derek. He was a lawyer. Kind enough in his own way. I knew his coffee order, his mother’s birthday, and the exact filing system his practice needed.”

It all spilled out of me. Once started, I couldn’t stop.

“He never had to wonder what I needed because I’d already taken care of it myself.”

My hands were shaking. Why was I telling him this? Why couldn’t I stop talking?

“When we broke up—when he moved—I realized I couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked me what I needed. Not because he was cruel. Because I’d never given him a reason to ask. I was always fine. Always capable.” I forced myself to look up at Traig. “I made myself invisible by being useful.”

Traig’s jaw worked, his tusks catching his upper lip.

“He didn’t do anything for you,” he said softly.

“I don’t think it occurred to him to try. We broke up, though that’s not quite the right word for it. Better to say we fell apart and didn’t make an effort to put things back together. He took a new job and moved, and I…”

“Came here.”

“I wanted to be somewhere small enough that I’d matter. I knew right away this was the job that could give that to me. As for my notebook,” I tapped the cover, “when I moved here, I told myself I’d write down the good things in each day. But now I’ve realized that I’m doing the noticing work myself because no one else has.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Except you. Thank you for the coffee each morning. It means a lot.”

“You deserve all the good things, Willa. Every single one.”

My smile didn’t quite fit because my eyes were watering. I quickly swiped away the tears and sucked in a breath. “Anyway. Sorry to lay my sob story on you. Back to the adoption. I can be here on Saturday. I don’t have anything else going on, and it’ll give me another good thing to write in my notebook.”

“Alright.” He stared down at his hands before looking back up. “Thank you for telling me. It explains a lot.”

My belly dropped. There it was. I’d said too much, and now he needed space. He had to get away from me and my messy confessions and the fact that I’d baked him cookies like some kind of⁠—

“I need to walk the western perimeter, make sure the fence is secure after the wind last night. Sometimes, falling trees knock out parts of the fence. Unless you need me for anything.” He stood, taking the container, and gestured toward the door.

Damn, I’d scared him away with my confession. Well, at least he knew where I was coming from now.