Page 44 of Brotan

"Say, Doc," Gus says suddenly, narrowing his eyes. "You coming down with what's going around town?"

Maya frowns as she packs away her equipment. "No. Are you worried about me, Gus?"

"Nah," he snorts. "It's just, you two have been in my house nearly fifteen minutes, and I haven't heard an argument yet. Thought you might be feverish."

I freeze, uncomfortable with how easily the old man has observed the shift between us. Maya's laugh breaks the tension.

"Just giving your ears a rest today," she says lightly. "We'll be back to butting heads by dinnertime."

Gus's gaze moves between us, too perceptive for comfort. "Uh-huh. Sure."

As we prepare to leave, Maya's phone buzzes again. She pulls it out, glances at the screen, then silences it with a quick swipe. Something tightens in her jaw before she slides it back into her pocket.

"Everything okay?" I ask, keeping my tone neutral, though I've noticed the pattern.

"Fine," she says too quickly. "Just spam calls."

The lie hangs between us, small but noticeable. Everyone's got their secrets. I've got enough of my own not to push.

We leave shortly after, Maya promising to return next week with more medicine. As we walk back to the motorcycle, she bumps her shoulder against my arm—a casual touch that still surprises me.

"That wasn't so bad," she says. "His lungs sound much better than last week."

The bike accepts my weight as I mount it, my body automatically leaving space for hers. "He lives for these visits, no matter how much he grumbles."

She wraps her arms around me, chin resting on my shoulder. "Who would have thought? The town bruiser and the town healer, making house calls together. Nobody saw that coming."

"Let them keep wondering," I mutter, starting the engine. The less attention on whatever is growing between us, the safer she'll be. "Keeps things simpler."

Her lips brush against my skin, stirring something in me—not desire, but something gentler, unfamiliar. "You're not as scary as you think you are," she whispers, her breath warm against my skin.

Instead of responding, I squeeze her thigh where it rests against mine. She has no idea how wrong she is. No idea what lives inside me, what I've done, what I'm capable of doing. But for now, I'll let her believe whatever she needs to. I'll try to be the orc she thinks I am.

The ride back to her bungalow passes too quickly. She slides off the bike with practiced ease, stretching muscles stiff from the journey.

"I need to shower before clinic hours," she says, unlocking her front door. Her eyes meet mine over her shoulder, deliberately provocative. "Care to join me? Save water, save the planet, and all that?"

Heat flares in my gut at the invitation. Three days together, and I still can't get enough of her. "You'll be late opening the clinic."

"Some things are worth being late for," she counters, hooking her fingers through my belt loops to pull me through the doorway.

Inside, she presses against me, rising on tiptoes to bring our mouths level. "I'll be quick," she promises, hands already working at my jacket zipper.

"Maya..." My resolve weakens with each touch. "Diesel will be here soon for your protection detail."

"So?" She tugs my shirt over my head, fingers tracing the clan markings tattooed across my chest with reverent curiosity.

"So orcs have sensitive noses." I capture her wrists as her fingers reach for my belt buckle. "He'll know exactly what we've been doing the minute he gets within fifty feet."

She grins, entirely unrepentant. "I don't care if he knows."

"Easy for you to say," I grumble, but my hands have already found the hem of her sweater, exposing the smooth skin beneath. "You're not the one who has to consider breaking your best friend's jaw for what he'll be thinking about you."

"Poor baby," she teases, then gasps as my mouth finds the sensitive spot below her ear that makes her whole body shiver.

She's leading me toward the bathroom when her phone rings from her bag. I groan against her neck, frustrated at the interruption.

"Ignore it," I plead, reluctant to break this connection. “Whoever it is, they can wait.”

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