Page 4 of One Forbidden Night with Her Orc Boss

Shit. Fuck.

I did not sign up for fucking my boss. I did not sign up for lusting after my boss. I don’t have time, energy, or headspace. Not to mention—Ineedthis job. Like, seriously need. My ex is a deadbeat, and my parents aren’t able to help us financially anymore. Lucy and I are on our own.

Lucy is the only thing keeping me rooted to this spot instead of running for the hills. We need this fresh start this job is providing. I swear that there’s some sort of trance or magnetic pull that makes my body want to hump him in the middle of the station. I’ve never had this kind of draw toward someone before. Ever. It’s embarrassing.

Slowly, like molasses on a winter day, I find my breath and my composure. I’m careful to be professional. Extra careful for my hand not to graze Captain Suthorn’s as I exchange one handful of paperwork for another.

At some point, I take a bathroom break to splash cold water on my face. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see the same exhausted, stressed eyes of the last five years. I see excitement, satisfaction—and not all of it is because of this new job.Do not screw this up, Tasha.We can be professional, rational adults. We have to be.

“Would you like a coffee?” I jump at the interruption. Finally found some focus to read through the training materials—it’s taken an hour to read about workplace safety, all because I keep thinking about last night—and he has to break my concentration. This is going to be a slow day. “The machine isn’t as good as Ravena’s, but it gets the job done.” Brann pours two mugs of black tar before I can answer. Okay, then. What’s the point of asking if you’re not going to wait for an answer?

“Thank you,” I say, a tight-lipped smile on my face as I take the mug—again, careful not to touch his massive fingers. Gulp.Keep it together, Tasha. Do not think of the sensation of those fingers on your skin.After burning my tongue, I realize he isn’t going anywhere. When he doesn’t approach the topic of last night, my mind flounders trying to come up with something to fill the awkward silence.

“What percentage of rescues come from the sea rather than the mountains? And do you coordinate with the coast guard for those?” I’m curious. Coming from an inland city surrounded by cornfields, I’ve never done any water rescues, only pool training. It intrigues me and makes me nervous.

“About twenty-five percent of last year’s rescues were water related. Some river, some ocean. And while we try to coordinate with the coast guard, we’re mostly on our own out here.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. I can’t decide if I should declare my lack of experience now or later.

“We’ll be doing water training tomorrow at dawn,” he says, as if he’s read my mind. I sip the black coffee, cringing at its bitterness, giving me a minute to collect my thoughts.

“Dawn? My schedule says I start at nine tomorrow.” I can’t panic in the first three hours of my new job, but I don’t have childcare arranged for dawn! Sophie, our nanny, said seven was the earliest she could start this week. Something about collecting nettles in the woods at dawn.

“HR always messes up the schedule. Dawn. Is that a problem?” He gives me a look that says the correct answer isno. There is so much power and bossness in his tone, but rather than rage at the power-play, my center is clenching and whooping with excitement. My gods, I’m screwed.

The crease between his eyebrows is deep—I can only imagine the years he’s given that same look to people. Setting my coffee down, I stand and straighten my uniform. I can’t afford to lose this job. I also can’t afford to not stand up for myself.

“Captain Suthorn, I’m a single mom. I’ve pre-arranged pre-school and childcare for the hours given to me by HR. When I’m here, I give two hundred percent of myself. But I need more notice for schedule changes. I’m new on the island. I don’t have many resources for my daughter and myself yet.”

The captain looks me up and down, and I can’t help thinking that he sees beyond my façade of strength. It’s a fiery look, and under other circumstances, I’d love to experience it more. I stand my ground, refusing to fidget. If there’s anything Lucy’s father taught me, it’s how to stand my ground and look confident, even when I’m not.

Eventually, he grunts and nods. “Nine it is.” He walks back to the coffeepot to rinse his mug at the sink nearby. “Some of the crew should be in soon. You can meet them and run through some equipment before HR says you’re off the clock, right?”

“Yes,” I say, walking over to wash my mug.

Hands covered in suds, Captain Suthorn (I can’t think of him as Brann, it’s too informal. I have to keep my distance) asks me for a paper towel, which are on a roll to my left. I hold up my hands to him. Another grunt. I knew orcs did a lot of grunting, but I’ve never met one who has acted like this before. Each grunt reminds me of the bench last night.

Stepping into my space, boot stepped next to mine—touching!—he reaches across me for a paper towel. The jolt inside me comprises two things. Panic at being this close to my boss who is built like a god, delight at his scent of a crisp summer day, and panic at the way the skin on my arm prickles and tingles when he brushes against me. I freeze, unwilling to make a scene, but unsure of what is happening.

Reaching across me to get a towel is a non-event. It isn’t inappropriate, or harassment. It’s neutral. But my body is on fire in a very-un-neutral-way. In fact, it’s a burn-down-the-building sort of way.

He gets his paper towel and steps away from me as if nothing happened. Because nothing happened. Once air finds its way into my lungs again, I rinse my hands and mug, dry them, and get back to my paperwork. Part of me wonders, as the words swim on the page in front of me, if I should approach the topic of last night. That would be the mature thing to do. But would it jeopardize my job?

Bjorn, Leif, Peder, and Kaj all seem like good co-workers upon meeting. They are an eclectic mix of monsters and personality. Bjorn saunters around like he owns the place and everyone in it but jokes all the time and is sweet. Leif is the opposite—quiet and studious. Kaj, a minotaur, is even more intimidating and opposing in demeanor than the orcs. Peder, the gargoyle, only says welcome before flying home...literally, flying.

By the time my shift ends, I am more relaxed and excited about my job. Captain aside, everyone has put me at ease. Excitement about being part of a team builds inside me. I’ve been lonely; parenting has not been a team activity. It’s been five years since I worked in search and rescue, and while I love the job, I’m not sure how well it will mesh with being a single mom.

But it pays what I need for the two of us to survive. And so far, this town is exactly what I’ve dreamt of for us.

It’s time to pick up Lucy from her first day at daycare. Tomorrow, she starts pre-school in the morning, with Sophie picking her up and taking care of her afterward until I get home from work. When I think of not being there to see how her first day of school was, the emotions clog up my throat again. I have to do what I have to do. There’s no getting around it. And I have to work.

Windbreaker on, bag packed, I walk over to the captain’s office to make sure we’re done before going to get Lucy. “Sir, I’d like to make sure we’re done for the day. I need to pick up my daughter.” I smile, hoping to smooth over any ill feelings from our scheduling conversation earlier.

He looks up from his paperwork, the silver bits of hair on his temples glinting in the late afternoon sun that streams in through his office window. Standing, he walks over to me in the doorway, and again, stands almost too close. I’m not intimidated.

Gods, I appreciate his size. I’m used to being “too tall for being a girl.” The way he picked me up last night, as if I were a pixie instead of a tall, broad-shouldered, thick woman, was a dream. Like I was the heroine in a romantic movie, and not the truth—a one-night-on-the-side-of-a-cliff-hook-up. What I wouldn’t give for this to be different. For him not to be my boss, but someone who could love Lucy and me.

Hand out for me to shake, I have to roll my lips in to avoid whatever goofy smile threatens to erupt out of me. I grasp his hand, we shake, and he says, “Welcome to the Team, Beckett. I’m glad you’re here.”

The words wash over me like a wave at the beach—here and then gone. Because what I feel is that same spark as before. His hand is warm, calloused, and massive. And that warmth tingles up my arm to my chest and down to my stomach, where I swear rabid squirrels are trying to get out and attack him with kisses.

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