Page 11 of One Forbidden Night with Her Orc Boss

His smile drops, and in all seriousness he asks, “Why can’t you play hide and seek with a mountain?” They both stare at me, expecting me to participate.

Sighing, I say, “I don’t know. Why?”

“Because they always peak!” Lucy shouts the answer, along with Brann. He holds his hand out flat, and she slaps it, celebrating the dorky joke.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Damn him.

“Lucy, have you brushed your teeth yet tonight?” His question is weird. But he doesn’t see the look I give him. His attention is one hundred percent on Lucy’s bright eyes.

She giggles, “No silly, this is our walk. Then I have my bath. Then I put on my jammies. That’s when I brush my teeth. Then Mommy reads me a story.”

“Ah!” He says, knocking himself in the head, as if ‘of course.’ “Well, then, if it’s okay with your mom, I brought you two dessert.” He side-eyes me as he speaks to Lucy, then looks at her with a look that is mischievous, but also serious.

Lucy turns the serious look to me. “Mommy, my friend has dessert for us. It would be rude not to eat it.” Wow. I’m going to be in trouble in a couple of years with her.

“That’s very nice ofyour friend. Of course, we can have some.” As she claps her hands in happiness, Captain Suthorn produces a small brown paper bag I hadn’t noticed before. He hands it to Lucy, who reaches in and pulls out two chocolate cookies with big nuts and marshmallows in them.

“Ravena calls them rocky road cookies.”

“Wow!” is all she says. She looks reverently at her cookie in one hand as her other hand waves in the air toward me, hoping I snag my cookie. Then she takes a huge bite out of hers, the sound of “chomp” literally coming out of her mouth as she tries to inhale it.

“Thanks for the cookies.” I say, trying my hardest not to laugh at Lucy’s moans of delight and dance at how good the marshmallow is.

“It seems tasty.” He shrugs those hunky, muscular shoulders, the creases in the corner of his eyes showing, and falls in step beside Lucy and me.

I guess we’re walking together now.

We’re quiet as Lucy munches her cookie. My stomach can’t handle the idea of eating with him here, so I tuck the cookie back into the paper bag.

I hate to admit it, but it’s nice—the three of us. Suthorn’s towering, quiet presence is peaceful, protective. Once Lucy finishes, chocolate crumbs all over her mouth, she chatters toBrannyas if he were her best friend. I let her words wash over me as I take in the beauty of the golden afternoon sun. Captain asks questions and engages Lucy in a thoughtful, present way that clenches my heart painfully.

Turning the corner to our street, Lucy grabs his hand—well, his thick finger because that’s all she can hold onto—and drags him at a run to our front porch. He obliges, and my stomach and heart flip-flop in unison. Tears prick my eyes as I follow, trying to keep my throat from closing up with the panic that rises from my depths. By the time I get to our porch, they are both sitting on the porch swing, him lazily swinging them back and forth as she kicks her feet and serenades him with “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” Who would have thought that my little girl would befriend my sexy, grumpy boss? What am I supposed to do with this?

Captain looks at me, his eyes narrowing slightly as his nostrils flare. He slows his rocking as he turns to my daughter. “Lucy, this was really fun. Do you think we could walk together again sometime?” She vehemently nods her little head yes at him, clapping her chocolatey hands together. “Great. Well, I need to talk to your mom for a moment. Why don’t you go wash your hands?”

“Okay, Branny. See you tomorrow!” She stands on the swing, and it takes all my willpower not to rush to her side and pick her up from the wobbly swing. But he beats me to it, steadying her little body with his firm hands. Smiling, unaware of any danger, she wraps her arms around his neck in a hug. A kiss of chocolate on the cheek, and then climbs down and runs inside, leaving a sticky handprint on the door.

My jaw is on the floor. I can’t help it. She’s completely smitten with him, just like I am, but unlike me, she has no hesitation in showing her affection. And him! He just let her. Mr. Macho Captain let my four-year-old slather him in little girl love and messy germs and chocolate.

And now? Now he’s standing before me, smiling that lopsided grin that makes his tusks look even more intimidating. “What’s wrong?” He asks with a forcefulness that pulls me back.

“Nothing,” I lie.

“I can smell your panic.”

“Well, that isn’t fair.” I cross my arms, his eyes flickering down to my chest and then back to my eyes so quick I almost didn’t see.

“It’s biology. Why isn’t that fair?” His eyebrow quirks and I want to slap them down, but that would require touching him.

“That you can smell my emotions, but I have no idea what yours are.”

“It adds a little mystery.”

“It adds frustration. Because I’m frustrated. And yes, panicked. You can’t come here and let my little girl fall in love with you and then break her heart. I will hunt you down and you will die a thousand deaths.” The words are out so fast, I blink in surprise at my own protectiveness. But every word is true.

The captain—he has to be the captain, because thinking of him by name adds another layer of intimacy to our shaky ground already—stands there, taking my threat like I’ve just told him what is for dinner.

He swipes away a tear from my cheek that I hadn’t noticed. His touch a balm to my lonely, tired soul. Then he rests his hand on the beam behind me, creating a cozy alcove where I’m under him, protected and shielded by him. I want to be furious, but my insides are too melted with desire to put up a fight.

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