Page 8 of Bread with the Orc
It was…surprisingly sweet. I blew out a breath and gestured him behind the counter. “Thanks. It’ll be good to have a distraction.”
He followed and stood beside me so we both faced the room. My mother’s tea set was bracketed by his strong hands, looking as fragile and delicate as I felt around him. “I distract you?” he finally rumbled.
And me, without thinking, laughed, “Uh, heck yes!” Without thinking, my hand fell on his forearm—which, to be fair, was laid out like a buffet for me to admire, okay? I’m a sucker for strong forearms, and Dorvak had the strongest. “You’re delightfully distracting.”
To my surprise, instead of shaking me off, he seemed to preen. “Delightfully,” he repeated, then peered down at the tea set. “Where do you want this?”
I showed him how to carefully pack each cup and nestle them into the ancient rosewood chestAmahad cherished. As we did, I told him about my mother, her history, and my memories. She was my role model in so many ways, and one day, I hoped to share her wisdom withmychildren…although I found myself blushing when confessed that, hoping he wouldn’t think me odd for planning for children who weren’t even a possibility yet.
But Dorvak merely studied me as I admitted this, and I thought I saw something green flash in the depths of his dark eyes.
The water boiled, and I poured us both a cup—disposable cups, so I wouldn’t have to wash them—of Earl Grey tea. As we waited for them to steep, I couldn’t help but admire how meticulous he was, how much care he paid to each piece, and it relieved me. Although he didn’t speak, hedidseem to be paying attention to my stories. Tome…maybe more than I warranted.
He was focused on the last cup, and I’d moved on to the tea pot I only used for decoration, when he finally broke his silence.
“You honor your mother.”
“Of course.” I sent him a rueful smile. “I miss her, and this is how I can remember her.”
“I think you will be a good mother yourself.”
The statement was so startling, especially considering what I’d been thinking about before he came in, I reared back, eyes wide. How could he have guessed that? “Wha—why would you say that?”
Dorvak didn’t seem offended by my response. Instead, he watched me through half-lidded eyes, as if he were trying to figure me out. Then he shrugged.
“Your family’s history means a lot to you. You would pass that down to your children.”
It hadn’t been a question, but I nodded. “Of course I would—will. I’ve always wanted kids, I just haven’t gotten around to having them.” Or finding a guy Iwantedto have kids with. “How about you?”
His nostrils flared and his tongue darted out to flick against one of his tusks before he looked away. Was that a nervous gesture, or something else?
“I hadn’t considered kitlings until recently. What about your father?”
The change in topics—if that’s what it was—was so surprising, I fumbled the latch of the rosewood chest. “Baba? What about him?”
“You have spoken of your mother. Is your father also dead?”
My lips tugged into a rueful grimace as I bent back over my task. “My father…lives here in town. I grew up here, in one of the big houses on Lakeview.Babaalways liked bringing his business associates there to brag about the view and impress them with his wealth.”
“He sounds delightful.”
The echo of my earlier description had me snorting a laugh, and I shut the chest lid a little harder than necessary. “He is very, very good at making money. He wanted me to be that way too—he paid for my college and my MBA—because he wants me to join his company.”
Dorvak crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And you don’t want that.”
I shrugged, unconsciously picking at a loose thread in my t-shirt’s hem. “I wanted to create something new…something I could be proud of, something to honor my mother’s memory.”
“The tea shop.” He glanced around. “And now you have to close it.”
“I failed,” I whispered, turning back to the steeping tea, fishing out the homemade tea bags quickly, the wayAmahad taught me years before. “And my father will soon know it, if he doesn’t already.”
When I handed Dorvak his tea, he nodded his thanks. “And will that matter? If your father knows?”
“Of course. He told me I would fail without him, and now I have. It’ll be more of an excuse for me to move back home, to join him. Don’t drink it yet, it’s too hot?—”
Before I could get the words out, Dorvak was sipping the tea, and his brows went up. I winced, expecting him to bellow in pain. Instead, he pulled the cup away and glanced down at it in surprise.
“You’re right, thisisgood tea.”
