Page 3 of The Passionate Orc
"Perfect. Two o'clock." She slung her bag over her shoulder, then paused. "And Nar? Maybe don't mention this to anyone else from the gallery. I have a reputation to maintain, and being known as the artist who needed an orc to fix her painting isn't exactly what I'm going for."
My heart sank a little. Of course, she wouldn't want to be associated with me publicly. What had I expected?
"Your secret's safe," I promised. "Just like mine."
She tilted her head questioningly.
"My clan doesn't know I paint," I admitted. "They think art is not warrior-like."
Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Ah. So we're both living double lives, then."
"Seems like it."
For a moment, we just looked at each other, a strange connection forming between us. Then she nodded once, that dimple flashing again. "See you tomorrow, Nar Humperdink."
I watched her leave, the business card clutched in my hand like a precious artifact. My heart was still racing, my palms sweaty. I had a date, no, not a date, a studio visit with the most beautiful human I'd ever seen.
And I had absolutely no idea what I was going to wear.
Chapter 2
Emryn
I was still finding glitter in my hair the next morning.
Tiny sparkly reminders of the chaos that had been theEmerging Visionsgallery showing. My showing. The one that was supposed to launch my career as a serious artist in this city. The one that had been going perfectly until a seven-foot orc knocked over my central sculpture and set off a chain reaction that collapsed three display pedestals like dominos.
The one where I met Nar Humperdink.
I tilted my head in the bathroom mirror, picking another speck of gold from my curls. "You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, flicking it into the sink. "It's like glitter herpes. Never goes away."
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Still on for tonight? I promise not to destroy anything. Unless you want me to. -Nar
I smiled despite myself. After the gallery disaster, when most people had cleared out, and I was sitting alone amidst the wreckage, he'd stayed to help clean up. And then he'd shown me his sketchbook.
God, his sketches. Raw, powerful, vulnerable in a way I never would have expected from someone with arms the size of my thighs and tusks that could probably gore a man. There was something there with a real talent beneath all that muscle and awkwardness.
Studio's open until 10. Come by around 7? And maybe leave the bulldozer impression at home this time?I texted back.
Three dots appeared immediately. Disappeared. Reappeared.
I will be gentle as a butterfly landing on a flower petal.
I laughed out loud. This guy was something else.
By six-forty-five,I had the studio setup. The community art space I rented three days a week wasn't fancy, but it had great northern light, high ceilings, and enough room to spread out. I'd cleared a space in the center with two easels facing each other and laid out basic supplies on a rolling cart between them.
At six-fifty-three, the building's front door buzzed. I pressed the intercom. "Hello?"
"It's Nar. From the gallery. The... uh... orc. With the incident." His deep voice crackled through the speaker.
Like I wouldn't remember the only orc who'd ever made me laugh while simultaneously destroying my exhibition. "Come on up. Third floor."
I heard him before I saw him with heavy footsteps on the stairs that probably would have sent another person racing for the emergency exit. But when he appeared in the doorway, ducking his head slightly to enter, my heart did a little skip.
He'd dressed differently from the gallery event. Gone was the too-tight blazer that had strained across his massive shoulders. Tonight, he wore a simple black t-shirt that hugged his chest and arms like paint, and dark jeans. He pulled his dark hair back ina short ponytail, revealing the sharp angle of his jaw and those striking, light brown eyes.
