Chapter 6
Meli
I couldn’t believeI was actually contemplating staying with Cairo. In his house. With him.
But…he was right. Jess’s house wasn’t a possibility and there weren’t any rooms available to rent on such short notice. I had other friends I could ask, of course, but none I could trust 100% to keep their mouths shut about me staying with them, if my mother asked.
No, I needed her to believe I was staying with my boyfriend, Cairo. And what better way than to actually stay with him?
Contemplating it? Heck, you’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?
I was going to stay here in his house.
And I suspected I’d enjoy it.
Before dinner, he cleared enough of the dining room table that he could set it, and I was impressed with his stoneware and utensils.
“What? You think because I’m an orc, I don’t know how to use a fork?” he growled, offended.
But I merely smiled and pulled the utensil out of his hand, studying it. “No, I’m impressed by the workmanship. This looks handmade.”
“I made it,” he grumbled, snatching it out of my hand. “I went through a blacksmithing phase a few years back.”
I couldn’t help it; I burst into laughter. When he scowled at me, I patted his arm. “I’m really looking forward to getting to know you, honey.”
His scowl turned into something…else.
If I didn’t know better, I might guess my flirting was causing him pain.
He devoured my burger as if it was the best thing he’d ever eaten, and I was glad I’d made four. I mean I’d made them so he could have leftovers for lunch tomorrow, but the guy ate three of them. It was gratifying to see him enjoy something I made.
I told myself that’s why I was sitting there grinning so much. Not because I was just happy around him, or anything like that.
You can lie to yourself, but not to me.
Oh no, I was brilliant when it came to lying to myself. Practically a gold medalist.
After dinner, he stood up and took my plate. When I stood as well, he snatched mine out of my hand and glared at me. “Sit,” he commanded, and I did, still smiling.
But I turned slightly in my chair to watch him wash the dishes and clean up from the meal. He was efficient and meticulous; his method of cleaning reminded me of how Dad tackled a project, and I wondered if Cairo had the same engineer’s mind as my father.
When he was done, and before things could get awkward, I gestured to the cogs and wheels spread over the table. “What’s all this? I hope I didn’t screw up anything.”
Cairo seemed hesitant to answer but came back over and pulled out a seat. There was great light here, thanks to the chandelier, and he moved a few wheels into a different location.
“This is—was—will be a grandfather clock.” He nodded to the empty case standing along the wall by the back door. “I took it apart so I could get a feel for the mechanisms.”
“Ah, one of those cases where you took it apart and now you can’t get it back together again?”
He looked up, frowning. “I can get it back together again.”
“Oh yeah?” I raised a brow in challenge and leaned forward. Was it my imagination, or did his nostrils flare and he swayed toward me? “Prove it.”
He blinked, then shook his head with a scowl. “Grab that Phillips head screwdriver,” he commanded. “You know what that is?”
Scooping it up—he had all his tools lined neatly along the far edge of the table—I scoffed. “Clearly, sir, you don’t understand that when I was a child, ‘being assigned to Dad’s department’ for the afternoon wasn’t much of a punishment. Mom wanted me out of her hair, but I like learning stuff like this.”
Cairo hummed in what sounded like approval as he took the screwdriver from me, as if I’d surprised him. “So your dad’s a mechanic too?”
His fingers were already flying, and it was fascinating to watch him work, his gaze on what he was doing, but his attention spread around the room—on the pieces, on his work, on me.
I found myself telling him about my father, and the cool stuff he’d done and invented and made possible. I hadn’t expected Cairo to be interested, but he was, asking questions as he worked.
And when I asked about what he was doing, he seemed happy to explain. Well, not happy, because I wasn’t certain I’d ever seen him truly happy, but willing at least. He was patient and even-tempered and yes, kind too. When I didn’t understand something, he found a different way to explain it to me so I could.
Just like Dad, really.
“And your mother?” he asked, fiddling with something tiny. “She seemed…”
“Difficult,” I finished for him with a sigh. He had a right to know, if Mom was going to think we were dating. “My mom doesn’t think…” How to explain. “Mom has very clear ideas on what her daughters should be like, and I’m not like that.”
“How?” he grunted, not looking up.
I blew out another breath and propped my chin on my palm. “Skinny, for one. Blonde. Successful. Care about fashion. Make a lot of money.”
He made a sound I couldn’t identify. “And you don’t think that’s you?”
Well…no. “I’m not blonde,” I pointed out.
Finally, Cairo looked up from his task. He had dark eyes—all orcs I’d seen, even in pictures, had dark eyes and hair. His locks had long since dried, and now a piece of hair hung in his eyes, and he peered around it at me.
His gaze followed from my hair—still not blonde—down to my shoulders and my chest, which made me blush—then back up to my jaw and lips and eyes.
“You don’t make a lot of money?”
It was such an adorable segue I smiled, which dragged his gaze back to my lips.
“I’m not going to become rich running a bakery in a small town.” I shrugged. “But since I was a little girl, this is what I’ve wanted to do. I don’t mind the hard work or the early hours, and I love Eastshore. I love the people, and I love knowing I’m a part of the community.”
He was still watching me, ignoring the cogs in his hands. “Your mom disagrees?”
I shrugged and dropped my gaze, reaching for one of the larger wheels, turning it over in my hands. “My mother thinks this island is quaint and fun to visit, but there’s no big chain coffee shops or fancy clothing stores, so she’d be miserable after a few days. And she doesn’t understand how I could be happy here.”
He didn’t say anything, but from the corner of my eyes, I saw him go back to his work, which made it a little easier to admit, “I’m thinking about expanding.”
When he grunted questioningly, but didn’t look up, I was brave enough to say more. “That’s the reason I need Sweetcheeks in tip-top condition. I’ve made some contacts with shops on the mainland. I’m going to provide them with baked goods three times a week.”
Nowhe looked up. “You’re leaving Eastshore? You just got done telling me how much you like it here.”
I wondered if he liked it here. “I’m not leaving, just…expanding Meli’s Bake Shoppe off-island. If I do, my mother will see—”
He was already shaking his head, even as he went back to his task. “It’s a shit idea, Meli.”
That was it. I bristled, defensive, and smacked the cog down on the table. “Why is it a bad idea?”
Dark eyes flicked up at me briefly, and I dared him to say something about never being able to make my mother happy. But all he grunted was, “That car’s a dumb choice for that plan.”
I hadn’t expected that. “What’s wrong with Sweetcheeks?”
“Sh—he deserves a garage and kid gloves and some rich guy who’ll take him out on Sunday drives. He’s not a work van.”
A work van?
I sighed. Cairo was right; I did need a work van. For one thing, the trunk space of the Karmann Ghia was tiny, so I already had trouble when I needed to make deliveries, like the cupcakes for next week’s celebration. And a new van would be more reliable, cost less in upkeep, and I wouldn’t feel guilty when the salt air pitted the paint.
“I’m right,” he muttered, across the table.
“You are,” I admitted.
“Such a graceful apology.”
I heaved the clock wheel at him, and he looked up in time to snatch it out of the air.
And smile.
It wasn’t a mocking smile. It was a genuine, I’m-enjoying-myself smile.
And it reached down my throat and into my chest and squeezed. Then it crept lower, making me warm. I shifted against the chair, and his nostrils flared again.
“Can I help?” I blurted, and to my surprise, he agreed.
I wasn’t used to staying awake past the sunset in summer—I worked early, remember—but I didn’t notice the passage of hours until the light outside the window dimmed. I looked up to realize we’d managed to reconstruct most of the clock, and it was nearing nine p.m.
Of course, as soon as I noticed that, I yawned, and he dropped what he was doing.
“I can put it back in the case tomorrow. Lemme show you the bathroom.”
Most of the houses on Eastshore Isle had been built at the same time by the same builder, so Cairo’s was arranged similarly to Jess’s. Apparently, the guest bathroom was mid-renovation—or so it looked, when I poked my head in—but the master had been completely remodeled.
“Wow,” I breathed, turning in the middle of the marble paradise. “Did you do this work yourself?”
He shrugged. “Tiling isn’t that hard, and Tanis taught me the plumbing stuff.”
I took his hand. “How in the world did you get so good at this sort of stuff, Cairo? How old were you when you saw your first car?”
When he smiled, his tusks became more prominent. But I didn’t notice, because I was too busy being awed by the sight of that smile flashing quicker than summer lightning.
“I was young when I came to your world. I didn’t choose—the elders sent me, because I had no one back in our world I had to care for. But the minute I saw the amazing technology humans had up close and personal, I knew it was where I belonged.”
“And you didn’t miss your home?”
His fingers tightened, but he was staring at the wall of the large shower. “Not even a little. This world is…” He shook his head. “Machines make sense to me. They’re logical. They don’t expect small talk. They don’t expect obligation or politeness or shit like that. They make sense,” he repeated.
And in that confession, I think I learned more about Cairo than I had all evening.
I squeezed his hand once, twice, until he turned to look at me, and I smiled. “Thank you for teaching me about the clock, Cairo. And for letting me stay here.”
He nodded once and pulled his hand from mine. “I’ll get your bag. Do what you need to do.” And then he was gone.
I was quick, and when I emerged, it was to find my duffle sitting atop his bed. Oh, did I mention the bed? Look, there are sizes of beds larger than king size, I know, but I’d never seen one in person. This one was likely called Emperor bed or something equally palatial, because the thing was just tremendous. Pretty sure Cairo could lay sideways on it and not hang off the edge.
Which is why it was just ridiculous for me to sleep here.
I made short work of changing into my sleep shorts and shirt—yes, they were pink and covered in prints of dancing bananas, so what? I hadn’t intended on impressing anyone tonight—and then hurried into the living room.
Where, sure enough, Cairo was sitting on the couch, beside a single pillow.
“You can’t sleep here,” I blurted, pointing at the couch, which was barely six feet. “You’re going to be so smooshed. And you’ll freeze.”
“It’s July, Meli.”
“And you keep your air conditioning set to ‘arctic’,” I snapped back. “Take the bed. This couch is too short for you.”
Slowly, he stood, unfolding like some kind of glacier. He never did put on a shirt this evening, and I was a-okay with this development. “It’s too short for you too.” He nodded at my legs. “You think I haven’t noticed how tall you are?”
I flushed. He’d…noticed? I found myself doing Mom’s hand-flap thing. “I’m shorter than you.”
“I’m not making you sleep on a hard sofa—”
“We can share the bed,” I burst out.
He sat back down again, abruptly, making a little noise that sounded like a groan of pain.
“Cairo?”
“You want to sleep with me?”
“Just sleep,” I was quick to reassure him. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Anything I don’t want to do?” he repeated, eyes closed. “Fuck, Meli.”
“Look, I’m just saying it’s a big bed, and it’s silly for you to give it up. If you insist on me taking it, then I insist on you sharing. We can put some pillows down the middle, and I promise I won’t attack you in the middle of the night.”
He muttered something I couldn’t hear and scrubbed his hand over his face. When he lowered it, he wasn’t looking at me.
“Go get in bed. I’ll join you.”
It was likely as close to an agreement as I was going to get. I offered a tight smile, then hurried back to his bedroom. It was obvious which side he preferred—there was a charger on one bedside table, and that lamp had been moved closer to the bed. I hurried into the bathroom to pee one last time, then pulled back the covers of the other side.
By this time, it was fully dark outside, and my eyelids were heavy. Luckily, tomorrow wasn’t one of my early days; I’d already arranged for Peggy to cover the full shift with what I had on hand, so I could spend a few hours with Mom and Harper.
I was tired, and the bed was really comfortable…but my eyes refused to close. I stared up at the dark ceiling until I heard heavy tread out in the hall. It stopped outside the door, as if Cairo was…what? Waiting? Listening? Arguing with himself?
I wanted to call out “It’s okay, I’m in bed,” but I doubted that would be helpful. After what seemed like forever, the door swung open, and I heard him cross to the bathroom.
The water ran. I could hear him gargle, which isn’t sexy. No, really, it isn’t. But listening to him make those normal, everyday sounds was…well, kinda intimate.
I was glad I’d built that pillow wall to protect him from my urges, let me tell you.
It seemed like forever before he came back to the bedroom and sat down. The bed tipped in that direction as he climbed under the blankets, but I didn’t roll or anything, because I was approximately forty-five feet away on the other side of the bed.
With the pillows between us, remember.
No, I laid there on my back, staring up at the darkness, my senses straining to pick up even the tiniest—
“Go to sleep, Meli,” he growled from the great abyss.
I exhaled.
He made another noise of irritation, and my arms itched to touch him again, which was a weird sensation. Instead, I rolled over on my side with my back facing him and tucked my hands under my pillow.
“Goodnight, Cairo,” I breathed.
I felt my eyelids sinking. It had been a long day—the understatement of the year—and I was exhausted. Body, mind, senses, libido, everything. I exhaled again, really more of a sigh, and felt everything sort of whoosh out of me.
As I fell asleep, I heard him whisper, “Goodnight, cupcake.”