Page 21 of Marked By the Broken Orc
“It’s worth considering.”
Chapter 7
Mia
I’m mortified.
That’s the only word that best describes how I’ve felt since the house hunting expedition three days ago. Every time I replay that afternoon, I want the ground to crack open and swallow me whole.
What the hell was I thinking, blurting out comments like we were house shopping together? Acting like I had any say in where Kavin Irontree chooses to live, like I was his girlfriend or future wife instead of just his neighbor who was helping him out.
And yes, maybe I did show him the house I’d found for sale online that I thought would be perfect for us. Ugh.
I’ve never even been on an actual date with Kavin. Never shared a kiss. That moment when we held hands under the table at Grinder’s Coffee feels like it happened in another lifetime, to other people. Maybe I imagined the whole thing.
And yet there I was, touring a mansion and property worth millions, critiquing his choices like I had any right to an opinion. The poor real estate agent probably thought we were the most dysfunctional people she’d ever worked with.
Maybe I was simply thrown off my game by the stunning revelation that my firefighting neighbor, who lives in the sametype of simple apartment I do (well, he does have the two bedroom floor plan) isrich. Since when is Kavin Irontree…rich? I thought we were both in this together, two first responders trying to gain seniority and a higher pay grade.
Not that Kavin being wealthy is a terrible thing, it just makes me question if we have as much in common as I thought. But then I remember his comment about how orcs aren’t into purchasing as much as humans and it all makes sense. He probably views his money as a tool that keeps a roof over his head, buys a car, clothes and food and that’s probably it, the rest sits in a safe. Makes sense.
Since that house hunting trip, our interactions have been stilted and awkward. We’ve stopped sending our nightly texts and have only run into each other twice in the parking lot with polite nods, and brief “how was your day?” exchanges that feel forced. He’s been avoiding eye contact, and I’ve been doing the same because I’m too embarrassed to look him in the face.
But I’m also frustrated as hell.
Since when am I too embarrassed to look someone in the eye? What am I doing? This dance we’ve been performing for weeks now where it feels like we’re on the verge of something real, followed by him pulling back and me pretending I don’t care, is silly. I’m done pretending. Mia Martin doesn’t pretend or avoid. I react fast and strong, with overwhelming force.
Today is Thursday, and I’m off work while he’s on shift. I taught a class at the gym in the morning, then went home, took a shower and did a complete hair and skin routine. My long brown hair is shiny and straight after a blowout and that glossing hair mask I used earlier. I mechanically exfoliated the skin on my face and entire body and applied my favorite moisturizer. Now I wear my new grey matching loungewear set that snatches my waist.
I look and smell good but not like I tried too hard. Perfect.
Kavin pulls into the parking lot. I check the time. Four-thirty. Early for him to be getting home. Through my window, I watch as my huge orc unfolds from his extra-large truck, still in his firefighter uniform. He looks edgy, with that luscious green skin and the tall black horns. How would it feel kissing a man with tusks? Would they get in the way, or just make everything better?
I suspect better.
This is it. I exhale, clench and unclench my hands. I’m done with the awkwardness and avoidance. No more taking things slow.
I head downstairs and time my arrival at the mailboxes to coincide with his. It’s a pathetic move that I’ve done too many times already to count, but I’m beyond caring about dignity at this point. “Hey,” I say casually, flipping my hair over my shoulder as he approaches.
“Mia.” His voice is carefully neutral. “How was your day off?”
“Fine. How was your shift?”
“Busy.” He opens his mailbox, pulling out a stack of bills and advertisements. “Three-car accident on the interstate. Took most of the afternoon.”
“Was everyone okay?”
“Two near fatalities.” His jaw clenches. “Drunk driver hit a family, but everyone was able to walk away.”
“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
He nods curtly and starts to leave, clearly done with this conversation.
“Kavin, wait.”
He stops but doesn’t turn around.
“Are we going to keep pretending like that didn’t happen?”
