Page 5 of The Selkie Santa

“Yeah, well… enough said... The orc came to my boat to find me. Nice guy, very grateful, said they were her absolute favorites.” Harper could understand why. “I apologized for Wyatt, naturally, and then,” Noah grinned, “the orc said I seemed a decent, honest guy and gave me…” He held up a wad of bank notes. “These.”

“Oh Noah, that’s wonderful. What will you do with it?”

“I was thinking of a slap-up meal. Tonight. Wanna join me?”

Harper couldn’t keep a daft smile from spreading across her face. “Really? But you’re going away tomorrow, can you spare the time?”

“I’m pretty much ready. All I need to do is pack a bag and hop on the trawler first thing. I thought we could go somewhere a bit flashier than the tavern.”

“Oh, ah…” She felt suddenly panicked; she didn’t have anything remotely posh to wear.

Noah’s brows furrowed. “You don’t want to?”

“I do, but I don’t have anything fancy to wear.”

“There’s no need to frock up. You always look great.” He cast a quick glance down her body, taking in her work t-shirt with its Sweet Clams insignia and her old jeans. When he looked up, she thought maybe he was blushing slightly, though it was hard to tell—Noah’s complexion was always tan from being out in the elements. “Can I take your silence as a yes?”

Harper nodded, still ninny-grinning. “Guess I deserve something for giving up those sandals. Shall I come across to your boat after work?”

Noah’s boat was moored at the end of the quay, same place it always was. Harper kept tabs on when he got home from a dayout fishing, feeling somehow safer, more secure when she knew he was home.

“Sure thing.” Noah smiled and Harper’s heart did its usual little flip. He had the best smile, the sexiest mouth. He’d kissed her on the cheek dozens of times, his beard soft and tickling her skin. Tonight though, she hoped that mouth would claim hers in a kiss that was anything but platonic. She hoped that big selkie tongue would slide into her mouth, and draw out the whimpers that up until now had only passed her lips at night, with the vibrator buzzing between her legs.

Harper squeezed her thighs together, watching Noah as he strolled back toward his boat. Broad shoulders, a firm, tight ass, and that muscular selkie tail swinging out of the slit in the back of his fisherman’s pants was a sight to see. Oh yeah, she knew everything about him off by heart. Well, almost everything. One major detail yet to come—she hoped.

With a happy sigh, she turned and hurried the other way, to Sweet Clams.

She put her bag of groceries in the kitchen, and her boss Mal glanced up from prepping fish as she walked in.

“Could, I—um, possibly leave early today, Mal?” Harper asked, trying to sound casual as she unloaded celery, leeks, and carrots from her bag.

The big bear shifter waggled his bushy brows. “Any particular reason?”

Harper got out a chopping board. “Just a dinner invite.”

“From a certain selkie I saw you chatting to out there?”

Harper gave him a sideways glance. “Noah asked me to go out to dinner, yes.”

Mal snorted. “It’s like watching grass grow, waiting for you two to get your act together.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re on about.” Harper arched her brows at him and he grinned as he expertly filleted a largemackerel. She’d never told anyone except her friend Luna about her long-term crush on Noah, but she guessed Mal had put two and two together. He was like a father figure to her; she’d worked here since she was seventeen, and he’d always kept an eye out for her welfare. And her happiness. Bless the big old grizzly. Now he just winked and shook his head as Harper, humming to herself, started cooking today’s pot of chowder.

Was Noah planning to ask her to be his girl, she wondered, as she chopped the vegetables. And if he didn’t, would she dare to make a move? She guessed she could have said something before, but hey, she’d given out enough interested vibes, surely.

But then again, maybe not.

Harper frowned as she stirred a big knob of butter into the pot. Coming from a family where her mom and dad were always either at each other’s throats or frosting each other out, she envied folks who could say what they felt openly with no mixed messages.

But now…finally, this felt like an opportunity to let him know where she stood. Just the two of them over a cozy candlelit dinner.

And if Noah turned her down, said he didn’t feel the same way, well, tomorrow he would be off to sea for two months. That would give her time to get over him.

Yeah, who are you kidding, girl.

Flipping her blonde hair over her shoulders, she made the soup on automatic pilot, the way she’d done countless times in her twelve years working at the café, her mind busy with fantasies of kissing Noah tonight.

Reallykissing Noah.

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