Page 62 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

My face warmed. “You’re good at the details part.”

Something eased in his face. “We work well together.”

I looked away before I could say something I’d regret.

“I should grab lunch in town,” I said. “I’ll be back before the family arrives to meet Rue.”

“I could make us lunch if you’d like. There are plenty of ingredients in the break room, plus some leftovers from yesterday’s group meal.”

“Alright,” I said.

The kitchen area of the break room was small, barely big enough for one person to reach everything comfortably, but we made it work.

Traig pulled ingredients from the refrigerator. “How about leftover roasted trillamond sandwiches? Krem cooked yesterday. And he made plenty of brillon root.”

“Sounds yummy.” Though I’d never had them before, I was eager to give them a taste.

He set things on the counter. “Caramelized brillon root, sauce, and half a loaf of vreth.”

“Sandwiches?” I asked.

“If that works for you.”

“It does.”

He handed me the trillamond. “Can you slice this into very thin pieces?”

“Of course.”

I found a knife and a cutting board, positioning the meat carefully.

His hand covered mine, adjusting the angle of the blade.

“Like this,” he said. “Let the knife do the work.”

His palm was warm against the back of my hand. His chest was close enough that I could feel the heat of him through my shirt.

“You learn quickly,” he said. His breath moved the hair at my temple.

I forgot what I was slicing.

“Willa.”

“Hmm?”

“The meat.”

I looked down. I’d stopped slicing and was standing there with his hand over mine and my brain completely offline.

“Right,” I said. “Meat. Slicing. I’m doing that.”

His mouth twitched against my ear. “You’re not doing that.”

“I’m thinking about doing that.”

His low laugh rang out.

I focused on the meat, slicing slowly, each piece falling away in thin, even strips.