Page 13 of His Orc Warrior

I wasn’t holding my breath.

Thrain showed up right on time and to my surprise, when I opened the door to let him in, Bolg ran right up to him with zero trepidation. He kept jumping on him like it was me when I got home after a long day at work—begging to be picked up and loved on.

Thrain showed up in his cosplay. And I couldn’t even be mad at it. He looked every bit as amazing as he did at his event.

“Huh.” I watched as Bolg snuggled into him. “How about that?”

Thrain looked down at me as if to decipher exactly what I meant.

“Bolg usually doesn’t like tall people. And you are tall.”

“That I am. But he seems to sense that I’m a friend.”

I hadn’t seen him this affectionate with a stranger…ever. “Is that what you are? A friend.” Because that wasn’t the word I wanted him to associate with me. I slammed my mouth shut, realizing I was asking too much, too soon.

“For you?” He smirked. “I hope not.”

He took a bag off his shoulder and handed it to me.

“Here’s some bread. And some cookies. And there might be some homemade jam in there, too. Safe to say my mom went a little overboard.”

He. Told. His. Mom. About. Me.

“Well, tell her thank you for me.” I shut the door behind him as I inwardly squealed and headed into the kitchen while he stayed with Bolg—his new best friend.

My table was small, and the two of us sat next to each other, eating the stew.

“This is delicious,” he said more than once as he moved his fork through the bowl.

“I’m glad you enjoy it. I haven’t made it in a long time.”

“You don’t like the carrots?” He looked at my dish and the pile of discarded veggies there. I ate most everything, but carrots were a pass for me. Still, they belonged in stew, so there they were.

“I’m not a huge fan.” I shrugged.

“They’re my favorite.”

And next thing I knew, I was forking up a carrot, bringing it to his lips. I was feeding him my discarded food. It was creepy. And weird. And not something you would normally do on a first date or any date.

He wasn’t a child, and there was plenty left for him in the Crock-Pot. And yet, as he slid it off the fork with his tongue, he looked like the most content person I’d ever seen. Like somehow, I’d just done something over-the-top magically wonderful.

Or maybe…that’s what I wanted to see.

A drop of gravy fell from the fork. “Oh, sorry.”

I grabbed my napkin and reached over, rubbing the bit of sauce that had landed on his tusk off.

And he hummed. This big, green, sexy man hummed.

I tried not to read too much into every little thing he did. I really did. But it was hard, especially with the conversation flowing so easily and the atmosphere so relaxed.

Then, as I set the cookies down and when the table was cleared, he took my hand in his, and I was on cloud nine until he said, “I need to tell you something. Well, more than one something.”

“What’s that?”Please don’t let him be married.I couldn’t bare it if he was. “You can tell me anything.” Even if it hurts.

He gave my hand a squeeze.

“I’m not a cosplayer.”

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