Page 15 of The Orc That Got Away

9

RAGNAR

“Stop being so nervous,” I say to my reflection in the bathroom mirror. “It’s just Bradford, for god’s sake. You’ve known him for forever.”

But my words ring hollow, even to me. Because the truth is that I don’t know Bradford, not anymore. I deliberately cut off all contact with him as soon as we graduated. I’ve avoided all mention of his name in the years since, automatically tossing out the magazines and deleting the emails that the alumni committee sends out.

I sigh and try to run a brush through my thick hair, but that only ends up making it worse. I toss it down on the counter, but in my frustration I throw it harder than I mean to and it snaps in half.

“Fuck!” I cry, thoroughly sick of my nerves.

Gorlag knocks on the door. “You okay in there, Ragnar?”

I open the door and snarl, “No, and this is all your fault.”

“What?” he asks with a smirk. “You and Bradford were crazy for each other back in the day. You should be overjoyed to reconnect with him.”

“I haven’t talked to him in years. How do I even know that he’s still interested in me? Or even still single?’

“He’s not the kind of guy that would cheat on a boyfriend,” Gorlag says. “Unless he’s massively changed since boarding school, but that’s not the vibe I got.”

“And you’re so sensitive and perceptive,” I mutter, striding down the hall to the guest room.

“More than you,” he points out. “Come on. You seemed excited about this before. What changed?”

“What changed is the prospect of actually seeing him one-on-one,” I admit, grabbing a tie out of the closet. Gorlag frowns and shakes his head.

“Not that one. Go for the blue checks.”

“What, you’re a fashion critic now, too?”

“Emily’s taught me a few things,” he shrugs. “Although Amelia’s actually the harshest judge in the house. Trying to get a five-year-old girl to sign off on your wardrobe is a whole master class in negotiation. We should have learned that in business school.”

I tie my tie and smooth it down with my hand. “I guess I should go.”

“You should, and you should have a great time,” Gorlag says firmly. “I have a good feeling about this.”

He grins at me, but I just shake my head and sigh.

I get to the restaurant before Bradford, and sit down at the table I reserved for us. Now that I’m actually here, I start to feel better. Maybe it’s the glass of wine in front of me or the hushed atmosphere, but for the first time since Bradford agreed to this date, I allow myself to look forward to our date.

Then Bradford’s walking towards me, looking even more handsome than when I saw him the other day. I stand up and hold out my hand as he approaches. Bradford looks flustered but shakes it.

“This how you always start off your dates?” he asks, sitting down with a smile.

I grin, too. “Sorry. I’m so used to having business meetings over drinks, I guess I slipped into that role without realizing it.”

“It’s a role that seems to suit you,” Bradford says, turning over his wineglass and reaching for the bottle I’d ordered. “I hear your company is quite the powerhouse.”

I flush with pleasure that he’s read up on me. “I’ve been lucky,” I say modestly as he pours himself a glass. “It helps that I really love what I do.”

“I feel the same way about modeling and photography,” Bradford says. “It never really feels like work. I don’t take that for granted, though.”

“I used to take my job for granted,” I admit. “Then I lost my temper one time too many and suddenly I’m taking an enforced sabbatical here in Green Haven.”

“Why here?”

“Gorlag insisted that I stay with him and Emily, his wife. He thought that hanging out in a small town would mellow me out.”

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