Chapter Eleven
Rona
I'm going absolutely insane.
Three days. Three whole days of being cooped up in this cabin while Darhg avoids me like I'm carrying the plague.
Three days of watching him throw himself into manual labor with the kind of aggressive determination that would be impressive if it weren't so obviously designed to keep him away from me.
He's been like this since we got back from town. Chopping wood until there's enough to heat three cabins. Fixing a perfectly functional roof. Deep-cleaning every surface until the place gleams. Anything to avoid being in the same room as me for more than five minutes at a time.
It's driving me absolutely mad.
Right now, I'm sprawled on the leather sofa, my sketchbook balanced on my knees, supposedly working on some meaningless doodles. But my eyes keep drifting to the kitchen where Darhg is currently attacking the oven with steel wool and what appears to be enough elbow grease to power a small village.
His black t-shirt stretches tight across his muscular back as he scrubs, the fabric pulling taut over every ridge and valley of those impressive shoulders.
His cargo pants hug his perfectly sculpted ass in a way that makes my mouth go dry.
I trace the line of his spine with my pencil, sketching the powerful curve of his shoulders, the way his biceps bulge as he works.
I'm just adding shading to capture the way his muscles shift under that sinfully tight shirt when the sound of an approaching engine cuts through the dreadful silence between us.
My heart immediately jumps into my throat. Could it be Gribble Nix? Has he found us?
Darhg drops his cleaning supplies instantly, moving to the front window in a few long strides with a predatory kind of grace that makes my pulse skip.
His entire body goes rigid with alertness as he hugs the wall and carefully pushes a corner of the curtain aside to peek into the darkness of the early evening.
"Stay back," he commands, his voice sharp with authority.
Of course, I completely ignore him and follow right behind, practically stepping on his heels. The man really should know me better by now.
"Rona, step back," he growls, not even turning around.
His anger is cut short by my squeal of absolute delight.
"It's Elga and Jennifer!" I announce unnecessarily, since Darhg can obviously see them too.
Through the frost-covered glass, I watch as a familiar pickup truck rumbles up our gravel driveway.
The driver's door opens, and Elga emerges like some kind of divine force of nature, her black hair whipping in the winter wind.
Jennifer follows from the passenger side and waves at the cabin with a mittened hand.
They circle around and open the back door of the truck and retrieve what appears to be enough supplies to feed an army.
Elga holds a massive cast-iron pot that probably weighs more than I do, while Jennifer carries what looks like fresh bread and some kind of dessert container. They're bundled up against the cold, but their faces are bright with determination and what might be mischief.
“Oh my! They brought dinner!” I squeal, jumping up and down and clapping my hands like an elementary school child.
He relaxes slightly, but I catch the way his jaw tightens. He's probably not thrilled about having company. I wonder if he’s ever happy to see people or if he would be perfectly happy to toil away all day, all alone in this lonely cabin.
Well, tough luck, because I happen to love having people around!
Elga marches up to the front door and pounds on it with enough force to rattle the entire frame.
"Darhg Rooke, I know you're in there!" she calls in a tone loud enough to be heard three counties over. "Open this door before I break it down!"
I grin at Darhg, who looks like he's seriously considering pretending we're not home. When he hesitates a moment too long, I sidestep him entirely and walk to the door with my head held high and my back straight. Let him try to stop me from opening that door.
"Elga! Jennifer!" I throw my arms wide in welcome as the cold winter air slaps my face, making me take a step backward. "What a pleasure!"
"I hope you’re all hungry," Elga announces, pushing past me into the cabin with her enormous pot.
The rich aroma of something incredible fills the air immediately—garlic, wine, herbs, and what smells like perfectly braised meat.
My mouth waters immediately at the smell.
"Can't have you two living like hermits all the way out here without paying you a visit. "
Jennifer follows with a much more reasonable entrance, giving me a warm hug that smells like fresh bread and vanilla.
"We brought coq-au-vin," she explains with a smile. "Made from Elga's mother's recipe. And fresh baked bread, plus apple crisp for dessert."
Darhg finally stops scowling and steps aside to let them fully enter. His stomach chooses that exact moment to emit a rumble so loud it's practically seismic.
"See?" Elga grins triumphantly. "The man's starving. Good thing we came when we did."
I can't help but laugh at the way Darhg's cheeks darken with embarrassment. For someone so intimidating, he can be surprisingly adorable when he's flustered.
"You didn't have to do this," he says, but his tone has gentled considerably. I guess the fastest way to an ogre’s heart is through their stomach.
Duly noted.
"Of course we did," Jennifer replies, already moving toward the kitchen to unpack their supplies. "What are friends for?"
The next hour passes in a blur of warmth and easy conversation.
We gather around Darhg's small kitchen table, which barely accommodates four people but somehow feels perfectly cozy.
The coq-au-vin is absolutely divine with tender chicken falling off the bone in a rich wine sauce that tastes like it simmered for hours.
The bread is crusty on the outside and pillowy soft inside, perfect for soaking up every drop of the incredible sauce.
For the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe properly.
The oppressive tension that's been building between Darhg and me melts away in the face of Elga's boisterous energy and Jennifer's calm warmth. We talk about everything and nothing, from the weather to town gossip and funny stories from the flower shop. It’s fun and easy and I watch in fascination as Darhg loosens up, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes shining as he and Elga recount stories from their past, much to mine and Jennifer’s delight.
"So, what did you do before this?" Elga asks me around a bite of bread. "I mean, what's your big dream? What makes Rona Quinn tick when she's not being chased by tabloid vultures?"
The question catches me off guard. It's been so long since anyone asked me about my dreams, and I don’t even know what to say. What do I want, indeed? Does it even matter?
"Growing up, I wanted to be an artist," I admit, surprised by how easily the words come. "I even enrolled for a year in fine arts at Cornell, but…" I trail off, not sure how to explain the complicated mess of family expectations and practical concerns that led me to abandon my passion.
"But?" Jennifer prompts gently.
"But my mother convinced me it wasn't practical. That I needed something stable, something that would actually be suitable for an ambitious career. So I switched to business." I shrug, trying to make it sound casual. "It made sense at the time."
I glance at Darhg, expecting his usual neutral expression, but instead I find him watching me with something that looks like a frown. Maybe even anger.
"I've seen your notebook," he says quietly, his face smoothing and the frown disappearing. "You have real talent, Rona. Serious talent."
The unexpected compliment hits me like a physical force. My face burns with heat, pleasure and embarrassment warring in my chest. Coming from Darhg, who doesn't hand out praise lightly, those words mean everything.
"Thank you," I whisper, not trusting my voice to be steady.
Elga and Jennifer exchange a look that's loaded with meaning, and I get the distinct feeling they're communicating something I'm not privy to.
We go back to our lighthearted conversation and Elga and Darhg consume monstrous amounts of everything, down to a third plate of the delicious dessert. Ogres really do have a thing for food.
"Well," Elga announces after we've finished the apple crisp—and I mean finished. The entire plate is gone and it should have been enough for a family of six. "I have a surprise for our resident grump."
She reaches into her coat pocket and produces a worn baseball cap filled with folded pieces of paper. Darhg’s amber eyes follow her movement and his expression is nothing but complete and total panic.
I follow everything with an almost perverse trepidation.
"Charades!" she declares with obvious glee. "And let me tell you, nobody plays charades better than Darhg here."
Darhg's entire face transforms, his skin darkening to an alarming shade of yellow as he shakes his head vigorously.
"Absolutely not," he says firmly. "We are not playing charades."
"Oh, come on!" I chime in, delighted by this unexpected revelation. "I had no idea you were a charades champion."
"I'm not," he growls, but the way his ears are practically glowing suggests otherwise.
"He's being modest," Jennifer says with a gentle smile. "He used to be legendary at the town game nights when we were teenagers."
"That was a long time ago," Darhg mutters.
But Elga is having none of it. She starts a chant of "Charades! Charades!" that Jennifer and I immediately pick up, clapping our hands in rhythm until Darhg finally throws his hands up in defeat.
"Fine," he grumbles. "One round. Then you all leave me alone."
We arrange ourselves in the living room, the firelight casting dancing shadows on the walls. Elga and Jennifer go first, with Jennifer drawing a slip of paper and immediately beginning an elaborate pantomime that involves a lot of flapping and what appears to be pecking motions.
"Bird!" Elga guesses immediately.
Jennifer nods and points to herself, then makes exaggerated kissing motions.
"Lovebird!" Elga cries, and Jennifer beams before leaning over to give her wife a gentle kiss.
My turn comes next, and I draw a slip that makes me groan out loud. Seriously? Caffeinated Squirrel is just mean.
But I gamely launch into what I hope is a convincing portrayal of an overly energetic rodent, complete with twitchy movements and frantic acorn-gathering motions.
Darhg watches with growing amusement, his earlier tension completely evaporated.
When he finally guesses correctly, his smile is so bright and genuine it takes my breath away.
This is the first time I've seen him truly relaxed since we arrived at the cabin.
He looks younger, happier, like the weight he constantly carries has been lifted, even if just temporarily.
The transformation is stunning. His tusks shine softly under the low light and his deep brow is softened by the shadows, the corners of his eyes crinkling with tiny wrinkles.
Looking at him too long makes my heart pinch. If I’m not careful, I’m going to end up falling for him.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m falling, alright. Falling hard.
Then it's Darhg's turn.
He approaches Elga's hat with obvious reluctance, fishing out a piece of paper and reading it with a frown that deepens into something approaching horror.
"Oh, this is perfect," Elga cackles, clearly having planned this moment.
"You will pay for this," Darhg informs her, but there's no real heat in it.
He stands in front of the coffee table, looking like he's seriously considering making a run for it. Then he sighs dramatically and begins his performance.
First, he holds up two fingers.
"Two words!" I call out, getting into the spirit of the game.
He points to himself, then makes a questioning gesture.
"Job?" I guess. "Profession?"
He nods and gives me a thumbs-up, then begins the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen in my life.
Darhg puts his feet together and begins to waddle around the coffee table with his arms at his sides, looking for all the world like an enormous, muscle-bound penguin. The sight of this seven-foot ogre doing penguin impressions is so absurd I can barely contain my laughter.
"Penguin!" I gasp through my giggles.
He gives me another thumbs-up, then repeats the penguin waddle but this time flexes his considerable muscles while doing it.
"Strong penguin?" I guess. "Muscular penguin?"
He shakes his head, still waddling. Still flexing. My brain goes on a merry-go-round as I try to figure it out.
"Penguin trainer? Penguin… bodybuilder?"
His face lights up as he points at me enthusiastically.
"Penguin bodybuilder!" I shout, and he throws his hands up in victory.
The entire room erupts in laughter, and for a moment, everything is perfect. This is Darhg as he truly is. Playful, warm, completely at ease with himself and the people he cares about. It's devastating how attractive he is like this, how much I want to see this side of him all the time.
Too soon, Elga and Jennifer are gathering their coats and preparing to leave.
"We should head home," Jennifer says reluctantly. "It's getting late, and the roads will be getting icy."
We walk them to the door, exchanging warm hugs and promises to get together again soon. The sound of their pickup truck engine fades into the winter night, leaving Darhg and me alone once again.
He closes the door and turns to face me, and everything changes in an instant.
The playful atmosphere evaporates like morning mist. His eyes blaze red and hungry as they lock on mine, looking down at me with unmistakable lust. My heartbeat accelerates, responding to the predatory intensity in his gaze.
"You should go to bed," he says, his voice rough with barely controlled want. "It's getting late."
I meet his gaze directly, refusing to be intimidated by the raw need I see there.
"I'm not tired," I tell him, my voice steady despite the way my pulse is racing. "Not one bit."
His eyes turn that bright red that means he’s aroused and I watch as he swallows, his throat moving up and down visibly. We're right back where we started, circling each other like magnets.
And this time, I'm not backing down.