Page 11 of Bride of Choice

A few minutes passed in silence, once I was done snorting at him.

“Jojoknee?” he rumbled out just as we reached his hut and he opened the door, urging me to enter first.

“Yeah?” Walking in and setting down my things, I made myself right at home in his kitchen, nabbing a cup to fill with the pot of water he already had ready to go. I’d just walked back to my purse and was rummaging around for my trusty recycled mint tin container I’d taken to using for leaves, when two things hit me, like furry balls to my face, simultaneously, and Gopher spoke.

“Rektal not good for Jo,” Gopher blurted, “not good male,” right as I burst out, “That sticky fingered buttsnack! He stole my tea leaves AND my ring?!!”

Chapter 4

“Jo?” Gopher tilted his head, watching me as I paced like a caged wild animal. “What- What butt’s snack?”

“A buttsnack? It’s a silly, nonsensical insult from an Earth tv show about trolls and troll hunters. I liken it to calling someone a dweeb or a butthead,” I mumbled absently, right before getting back to the bull droppings at hand. I can’t believe this. That… that bastard! He’s such a- I can’t even- GRRRR!” Grinding my teeth, holding in the urge to scream, I glanced up as Gopher stood and made his way to the chest in the corner of his room with a fat stump of a candle set atop it on a clay plate, situated next to his bed.

Rummaging around inside the chest, waving the candle holder at me until I dutifully stood, walked over, and held it for him, he pulled out a small, dark purple jar. Holding it up with something akin to an ah-hah sound, he held it out to me.

“Is that-” I started to ask, to the grin in answer he offered me.

“Ugh, Go’, my man, I could kiss you,” I gushed, taking the jar to kiss it instead of his triumphant mug. Smiling happily, I leaned against him, my head bumping his arm, my weight settling against him.

“Gofur takes kisses,” he joked with a quirk of those thin caterpillars he calls eyebrows arching, nudging me to the side gently to shove the items he’d pulled from his trunk, strewn all over his bed, back into the deep, dark recesses of what I took perverse delight in referring to as his junk trunk. The male had a little bit of everything in that damn thing. He wasn’t quite a hoarder but bordered on doomsday prepper.

“Save those kisses for someone special, Gogo boots,” I cooed in a sickeningly sweet voice, despite the quiet thrill his words gave me, then bopped him on the nose on my way over to his stove to help myself to some of the water already boiling.

Along with that quiet thrill, was a heaping helping of dread. Play it cool, girl! that tiny voice in my head shouted at me.

Humming as I went, as if nothing was amiss, I already knew where he kept everything for a good cup of the hot stuff and got right to it. Feeling along on the top shelf too tall for me to see up to, my fingers grasped the edge of cold, hard metal and I inched it towards me. Unearthing his stash of sweet biscuits, I pulled out enough for both of us.

Putting the tin away, setting the cookies on a shared plate, I walked my goodies back to the table, Gopher already seated and waiting.

We had a routine on nights like this. I rather enjoyed these simple, quiet moments, just the two of us.

Gopher was uncomplicated. Simple. Sweet. I loved that about him.

Well… mostly uncomplicated.

Helping himself to a biscuit, I thought nothing of it as his fingers slid over my wrist, gently tugging up my coat sleeve. Smiling softly to himself as I threatened to eat all those yummy biscuits for myself if he didn’t start seriously chowing down, he fiddled with the shiny, dangling stones on the bracelet he’d given me.

It was the prettiest friendship bracelet I’d ever received.

Woulda been even nicer if it actually meant more, the mouthy bitch in my head running things tutted.

“Him’s no good,” he murmured quietly, drawing me from my discreet ogle as he used my bracelet like a fidget toy.

“Hm? Who’s no good?” I was bluffing, feigning indifference, ignorance, but we both knew.

The look he gave me said as much.

Lips pursing, not wanting to hurt his feelings but needing to get the point across that the mangy cur I call mine was not up for debate, I opened my mouth, trying to think of the right thing to say, when he rumbled out churlishly, “No good for Jo. Gopher know, no haves say…”

Glancing at me to find I was in complete agreement on that last bit there, his fingers, gently brushing the stones on my wrist, stilled. Though he didn’t remove his hand from me, those striking beryl blue eyes of his darted away.

The male visibly slumped as he grumbled a few things under his breath I had no clue as to what in his native tongue.

“Right back at cha, baby,” I snarked, lifting my hand from his grasp to pick up a cookie and tap the end of his adorable little stub of a nose with it.

With a grunt, he batted my hand away, then snatched the cookie I’d been teasing him out of his sudden ‘tude with, to gobble it up in two short bites.

Feeling a change of conversation was needed, I busied myself wiping crumbled cookie bits from my lips and polishing off my tea. “We’ll be late if we don’t finish up here and-”

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