Page 35 of Star Champion

Skeet laughed. “Whose side are you on, sir?” he pretended to complain.

“Your first time with regulation rules, too. It could not have gone better. You exceeded every expectation. Well done, Kes. Truly. Well done.”

It was a blur after that, the genuine congratulations and pats on the back from the two pros, the thanks from members of the crew who had stayed for the entertainment, all while so many thoughts tumbled through her head. Would she train here? Or, away? If it was away, she would have to tell her supervisor. They would fire her, of course, and her feelings on that were a jumble of relief and nerves. What about Ma and Button? What would she tell them? How long before she would be able to have them join her? And Nico… She loved her brother but if he had access to all the money she would be paid while she was gone, well, he could be a wee bit too free-spending. She would need to make arrangements with Sir Klark to make sure the family had what it needed while she was away. She would ask him to leave out a percentage so Nico did not have access to all of it, and go off knowing that her family was taken care of until they were reunited.

She was so immersed in her thoughts that she did not realize she had followed the men into the locker room until Xirri started shrugging off his boots and bajha suit, and then his underclothing as he walked, bare-bottomed to the showers. All three men had been exercising most of the day and now were eager to clean up for dinner.

“You’re probably hungry,” she heard theVashsay. He was stripping off his clothing also.

“I’m hungry, aye.” As much as she wanted to take advantage of her disguise to see how closely he measured up to her preconceived notions, she didn’t take a gander. She was better than that. Wasn’t she? She pretended to adjust the strap of her gear bag that she had dropped onto a bench made from a slab of polished real tree wood.

“Help yourself to the showers, then. Afterward, we will dine and discuss the rest of the details.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and unzipped her bag to fetch her towel. It was covered in Nico’s dried blood. She yanked the zipper closed before anyone noticed.

The sound of bare feet padding on the soft floor circled around to her. TheVashwas naked—to the waist, she realized with a peek lower, and he was incredible: lean and muscled, broad in shoulder and chest, narrowing to tight hips and a skin-tight pair of black undershorts leaving hopelessly little to the imagination.

She had used less effort moving a canister weighed down with ore than it took to drag her eyes from that body.

“Towels,” theVashsaid, pointing to a tall pile of perfect, fluffy, clean white towels. She chose one and breathed in the fragrance of expensive soap, wishing she could take one home for Ma, then scoured her cropped hair with the towel until the ends stood up.

“I’ll use the sink to wash up.”

“No shower? If you need a change of clothing, there’s more than enough here for you.”

She needed privacy more than she needed a change of clothing. “No, I’m right fine, sir.”

“I see. If that’s what you prefer.” But before theVashdeparted for the showers, he paused to look at her for a moment as if she was something that needed figuring out. She just hoped he did not think on that too hard.

CHAPTER11

The dining tableboasted more food than Jemm had ever seen in one place in her lifetime. Food on platters, food on plates, on forks, in spoons, in cups and bowls. It was all she could do to keep from salivating like a yipwag, one of the furry, wet-nosed, tail-wagging street scavengers that sometimes ended up in miners’ stewpots.

All the men had showered, shaved, and dressed for dinner in fresh clothing: crisp high-collared shirts unbuttoned at the neck with sleeves extending to their wrists and tails tucked into crisp, pressed trousers. They looked so handsome and urbane. In contrast, she felt horribly grubby in her bajha suit, which she had unfastened to her waist, with the padded vest providing cover for her female curves. In her only nod to “dressing for dinner”, she had combed her hair away from her face. It made her look even younger and, she hoped, more boyish.

A server moved over to her after he had attended to theVash. The man arranged a clean plate and cutlery in front of her, and draped a napkin on her lap. “Enjoy your dinner, sir.”

She had never been called “sir” before, or any sort of respectful gender-specific title. Nor had she ever attended a dinner like this, or sampled most of the food items in front of her. The firsts were piling up faster than trill chips in a collection vat.

Skeet patted his hard, flat belly. “The roast is spectacular tonight.”

“Everything’s spectacular when traveling with the team owner,” Xirri said, his muscled arms flexing as he cut into some sort of exotic vegetable she did not recognize. It squirted amber juice onto his plate. He speared a piece of meat with a fork, rubbing it in the juice to make a gravy. Jemm all but followed it into his mouth with her gaze. “Kes. Hello? Are you going to eat, son, or just stare?” he said, his earnest eyes pinching with laughter.

With a fork she speared a small slice of roast on the platter. The piece dribbled juice and browned bits of meat as she lifted it. The aroma was so heady and rich, she was sure she would die of pleasure before she could transport the slice from the platter to her plate.

Xirri chewed as he gestured with his fork. “These roast tubers are insane with that gravy.”

“There’s lowberry gel for the meat,” Skeet suggested. “Go easy on the rip-radish, though. It’s hot. Spicy hot.”

Sir Klark offered her a roll from yet another a plate. “As light as air,” he said.

Finally, Jemm got samples of everything on her plate. “By the dome,” she muttered under her breath with her first taste of a morsel of meat. It was so delicious that she shuddered. The rip-radish was indeed spicy, but she enjoyed the heat. She forked a roast tuber next, moving a chunk in slow, deliberate circles in a puddle of gravy before bringing it to her lips, using her pointed tongue to catch an errant drip before savoring a bite. Then she felt eyes on her, and looked up to catch Sir Klark observing her with dark eyes and the strangest expression. Doubt? Bewilderment?

Mortified, she almost dropped her fork. Had she given herself away with feminine mannerisms? Whatever his thoughts, he kept them well-cloaked as he went back to cutting his meat. “I’m pleased you like the efforts of my chef,” he said with flawless poise.

“I never met a food I didn’t like, sir.”

“Excellent, because tonight we have a special treat in store. Ah. Here it is now.”

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