Page 9 of Protective Pucking Orc

I forced a nod at Sofia. “She’s very talented. A blue dog is pushing the boundaries of color theory.”

A flicker of something—relief?—crossed her face before she masked it with a smile. “I always knew she was a genius.” She hesitated, then added, “Your food’s getting cold.”

Right. The game tomorrow. Coach would have my hide if I was sluggish.

I shoveled a bite of skillet into my mouth, listening with half an ear as Rosa launched into a story about her favorite cartoon. The eggs were perfect—fluffy, seasoned just right—but my focus kept drifting to the way Sofia’s fingers twitched at her apron, to the way her eyes never quite left us.

I should leave. I had to leave.

But when Rosa grabbed my sleeve, her voice breathless—”Can you draw a dragon next?”—how could I refuse?

I picked up the black marker with my right hand as I kept eating with my left. “What kind of dragon?”

“The biggest kind!” She spread her arms wide, nearly toppling off the stool.

I caught her elbow instinctively, steadying her. Her weight was nothing, her bones fragile beneath my grip. Mine to protect.

No.

I drew the dragon, its wings spanning the width of the paper, its scales jagged and fierce. Rosa clapped her hands. “It’s perfect!”

Sofia’s voice cut through the moment. “Dakvaar, it’s almost nine.”

I glanced at the clock. Shit. I was late.

I gathered the drawings, stacking them carefully before handing them to Rosa. “For you.”

Her eyes went wide. “All of them?”

“All of them.”

She hugged the stack to her chest, then—before I could react—threw her arms around my neck. “Thank you, Dakvaar!”

I froze. Her scent—sweet, warm, innocent—filled my lungs. My arms lifted on their own, hesitating just above her back before I forced them down.

Not yours.

Sofia’s voice was tight. “Rosa, mija, let the man go to work.”

The kitling pulled back, pouting. “But I like him. I want to draw with him again!”

Gods below, I liked her too. I cleared my throat. “I have a game tomorrow, so I will not return to Bramblewood until Saturday evening. But…” I forced myself to stand. “I will come draw with you on Sunday, Rosa.”

Sofia’s sharp scent of surprise told me she knew Sunday wasn’t one of my regular days. Yes, I normally enjoyed sleeping in on the weekends, then having a leisurely meal around eleven…but I would wake early, and come into the café, and sit for hours to color with this little treasure, if it meant her mother didn’t have to pay for childcare and she wouldn’t have to sit in the kitchen and watch videos. Of course I would!

But before Sofia could say something—gods forbid, telling me not to be a part of her daughter’s life—I tapped a claw on the packet of animal sketches. “Will you color these for me? Try to stay within the lines and make the dragon many colors?”

“All the colors of the rainbow!” Rosa vowed reverently.

“Good.” I gathered my coat and reached for my wallet. “And you draw me a dog. You can trace mine, but I want you to draw one for me so I can color it on Sunday.”

She nodded eagerly, clutching the papers to her, ignoring the cooling sausage. Without looking at Sofia, I slid another hundred under my empty plate, then turned to the door.

“Dakvaar…”

I paused, allowing her time to say what she needed to say. Her brows were drawn in, her gaze flicking between me and her daughter…but she didn’t say anything else. So I nodded and shrugged into the coat.

“Have a good day, Sofia.”