Chapter Sixteen Georgia
“ T hanks for coming over. You didn’t have to do this, but it’s so helpful.” I smile and back into the coffee shop, leading Douglas in and trying not to sniff him like a rabid animal.
He smells so amazing. Like coffee and soap and some sort of manly shampoo or cologne.
It’s probably not polite to lick people by way of greeting, Georgia. Pull yourself together!
Douglas nods and walks in with strong, confident strides like he owns the place, casting appraising glances around the newly expanded premises. “You’re the kind one. I tend to keep t’ myself.”
“I get that.” I nod knowingly because I understand that Orcs can be very clan-oriented, but they also live in their own little pockets of society. Without a clan around here, Douglas could be looking at a solitary existence.
Not if I can help it.
“My brother has a weekly card game. Canasta,” I blurt out. “And I have a book club. You don’t have to be a loner out here just because you’ve moved away from home.”
Douglas’ lips shiver and pull into that almost smile I’m getting to know. “Again, very kind. You seem to be the life and soul of things. This place.” He pats the countertop. “You and your brother with the clubs and cards.” The almost smile vanishes. “I wouldn’t mesh with that. Old gloomy guts. That’s me.”
“You just need someone to cheer you up. Wake you up.” I grab my clipboard and hold it out like it’s a guiding arrow to the kitchen. “Inventory probably won’t do it, but I found one of Georgie’s espresso mousse pies in the freezer that we can eat if we do a good job,” I laugh. “It’s supposed to be for emergencies.”
“This is an emergency?” Douglas follows me, eyebrows arching.
“No... But if we do it wrong, and Georgie comes home to an understocked kitchen, it will be. Although he’s just had a round-the-clock lovefest with his new bride, so he’ll probably be the most mellow I’ve ever seen him.”
Douglas’ footsteps stop. I turn to see him frozen in the doorway of the kitchen.
“What?”
“Hm? Nothing. Nothing. I’m sure he’ll be grand, and we won’t mess up his order, even if it takes all night.”
God, please let this take all night.
I don’t want to come on too strong, but I want to show Douglas I’m interested in being more than just his friendly neighborhood coffee shop owner.
“Hrm. Speaking of late nights,” Douglas begins, his voice a low, velvety growl, “I’ve been wondering something.”
So have I. I’ve been wondering if he knows he sounds like sex and fantasies every time he opens his mouth. Is that his normal voice? Or is he just doing this to watch me melt into a puddle?
Either way, I approve.
“Georgia?”
“Oh! Yes. I’m sorry, you had a question?”
“You don’t stay open late even though the town has a large nocturnal population. Why is that?”
“Well, the Night Market needs to do a steady business, too. We’re not nocturnal. and we can appeal to more of the ‘normal’ population if we keep these hours. We do have arrangements with some of our regular clients. Deliveries during the day to their homes when they can’t go out.”
“Hm. Fair play to you for thinking of the other local businesses, but...” Douglas rubs his fingers together in the universal sign for money. “I may be overstepping, but it’d be a grand opportunity if you and Georgie could expand on your deliveries and offerings for those night-dwelling sorts. I haven’t been to the Night Market yet, but I know you two are conversant with the supernatural population. They’d trust you to sell to them.”
“I’ve literally been telling Georgie the same thing. I want to expand the catering end of the business and the bespoke desserts. Claire is the key to that, with her cakes and giving Georgie the second set of hands he’ll need in the kitchen. We’d need more staff, and Cindy—you might have met her at the wedding, and she was here when you stopped by earlier—is stepping up as Claire’s assistant. I’m trying to lure Claire’s dad, Renaldo, into the business part-time, too.”
“All very nice. Neat. Tied with a bow, you might say.” Douglas nods, one hand smoothing back his dark hair with the charming streaks of gray.
I want to tie him up with a bow, one on each wrist, and secure him to an old-fashioned headboard, then climb on top and lick my way from his tusks down to his—
“I should have known you’d have it all figured out. You’re that type of girl, according to your father. And according to everything I see.”
Curse that man for interrupting my fantasy—and bless him because he probably stopped me from drooling all over my clipboard. Bless him doubly also for speaking in that deep, dark honey voice.
“If I want to keep the front of house running and manage an increasingly packed schedule for a bakery, a catering company, and a coffee shop, I need to be away from my desk way more. Even a little witchy magic only goes so far. I can’t make two of myself.”
Is it my imagination, or do Douglas’ eyes glaze over?
Could he be imagining two of me?
That would terrify a lot of people.
“I could use someone part-time to handle the accounting. It’s not my favorite job, no offense.”
Douglas blinks like he’s just been splashed with cold water. “Accounting?”
“Part-time. Someone who would come over for maybe five hours a week? I’d pay by the hour and throw in all the unsold food he could carry,” I hint.
“What? Me ?”
“You’re the only family friend with an accounting degree who offered to pitch in with inventory. I figure you might be looking for something to do at night—just until you get settled and make more friends,” I quickly add with a shrug. I pass him the clipboard and the pen that I’d tucked into my back pocket. Is that weird, handing a guy a pen that’s just been rubbing against your bottom?
I suddenly realize why I didn’t mind being single. Flirting and dating, or pre-dating (whatever the hell delicious torment I’m enduring is called), sucks. I’m second-guessing everything, even where to put my writing implements.
“I’ll think about it. I’m sure you have to ask Georgie. Or the staff?” Douglas follows me to the edge of the walk-in.
“I know he’d say yes. He likes me ambitious but not deranged. Trying to do everything myself... I don’t know. I want to.” I shrug again, this time dipping my head and looking up at him. My hair falls halfway over my eyes. I hope I look sexy and not like a shaggy dog who needs a trip to the groomer. “But I feel like you’re a safe person to ask for help.”
To my surprise, Douglas’ head goes full yo-yo, bouncing up and down so hard that his hair flops forward as well. (Fuck, that’s a hot look on him. I might have whimpered out loud, I can’t tell over the panting in my lust-filled brain.)
“You can! I... I don’t claim to have the wisdom my years command, but I’m ready to listen. And ready to help. I... I—uh—I’ve been waiting to find a person who would tell me their troubles and listen to mine,” Douglas concludes with a self-conscious grimace, tucking his hair behind one ear.
“Well, one—you found me. Two, we’re a perfect match.” I let the words linger, hinting and hoping. “I want the same thing, and I’ve been waiting to find it, too.”
Douglas leans on the fridge’s cavernous doorway as I head in and clouds of cold air rush out. “Is there a third thing?”
“Yeah. The wisdom your years command? You make it sound like you’re ninety! You’re in your forties, I’m in my thirties. No biggie to have a friend a little older. Or even to date someone older.” I swallow and turn my back, praying the cold air will cool off the hot blood streaming to my cheeks, turning me into a tomato.
“I don’t know that everyone would agree with that—about the dating someone much older or younger.”
Does that mean he doesn’t? Well. That sucks. Cue all the mixed signals in one convenient Orc package.
I keep my back to him so the cascade of emotions flying across my face won’t give me away. “Oh, well. If you live here long enough, maybe you’ll change your mind. Yeah. Um. My mom has been pushing me to think about Jakob Minegold. I’m pretty sure you met him at my brother’s stag night. Vampire? Beautiful old-world manners? Looks like he ought to be some Viennese duke or something?”
“Think about him? How?” Douglas’ voice has a new quality, one I’ve heard briefly before. When King was getting handsy, the thunder in Douglas’ voice was much more direct. Now it’s subtle, like the clouds are lowering and the storm is gathering.
“Dating him. He’d be an awesome husband, my mom says. I mean, if you look at him, he appears to be in his mid to late forties.” I toss a glance over my shoulder and almost gasp.
He’s right behind me now. If I back up two inches, my ass will be grinding against the front of his kilt.
Please, God.
“He speaks as though he’s much older,” Douglas hisses.
“He is. Over a hundred, at least. But then again, my best friend, Gloria, just got married, and she looks like she’s twenty, and she’s over a hundred, too. Of course, being a ghost, time is tricky... But her husband is a human and decades younger. You see? It doesn’t really matter.” I swallow and ease back subtly, just a half-step. “When you want someone, little things like age don’t matter.”
“Aye? And if you want them, big things like life and death, and species and color don’t matter, either?”
His head brushes mine, strong jaw just glancing off the side of my temple. His chest hits my back, and I can’t stop the muted, greedy moan that trickles from my tight throat.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” I whisper. “You?”
“I’ve made so many mistakes. I feel like I can’t afford to risk one more.”
If he won’t risk, I will.
I turn and look up at him, letting my breasts push into his chest as I try to keep my voice even. “Some people are safe to take a risk with. They won’t let you down.”
Slowly, painfully slowly, Douglas raises his hand and rests it on the side of my face.
My whole body is pulsing. Everything is too hot and too tight, and yet my cheek fits perfectly in his enormous palm like it was meant to hold me.
“We’re not getting a damn bit of inventory done, Georgia,” he whispers.
“But we’re definitely finding out what we have. One handsome accountant and one eager coffee shop owner who both need something the other one can provide.”
His eyes close, and a wince passes over his face. “Is it fair to expect someone who has never had a mate to mend a careless heart? Falling for someone ought to be exciting and easy. Glorious. Not painful.”
I do not know what possesses me.
Honest. It isn’t even lust. It is like—my body is on autopilot, but my heart is directing the traffic. I stand on my tiptoes and pull Douglas’ head to mine, letting his tusks scrape against my cheeks, letting my teeth sink down into his supple lower lips as I kiss him for all I’m worth.
He grunts and kisses me back, the clipboard clattering to the floor. His hands grab my waist first, and then one tangles in my hair. He lifts me up as his mouth begins to roam. His teeth close down over the soft, yielding portion of my neck, and my eyes roll back, just like in all the romance novels.
And then... he stops.
I could scream.
But I don’t.
“Sorry. I’m sorry, Georgia, I never intended to—”
I glare him to silence. (Everyone says I have a powerful “pissed off” glare, but I try not to use it.) “I don’t know about you, but I found out two things,” I whisper fiercely, hands on my hips. “One, that hurt a little—and I liked it.”
He rubs his lower lip, nodding. “You don’t need tusks to get your point across, beauty.”
Beauty. He called me beauty. If I die in this fridge right now, I’m going out happy.
“Two, that kiss was my definition of glorious and easy. I felt like I could kiss you forever.”
There is a pained look in his eyes, but he doesn’t step away. Instead, he gently rubs his knuckles across my cheek. “I vowed to have forever with one woman—and it didn’t last. I’m worried about trying that again.”
“I’m worried about that stuff, too. But I know I have feelings for you that I’ve never had for anyone else.” I lick my lips, knowing I’m putting everything on the line and not caring. “We’re Fenclans and Wickstaffs. Aren’t we supposed to be brave in combat and valorous in our deeds?”
“Aye. That we are.”
I slip my hand in his and squeeze. “We could go slow? So we can learn to be brave together?”
He’s silent for a full ten seconds. I know, because my breath left for the same amount of time. “My War Maiden. My beauty. Would ye consent to my offer of courtship, even though I should have more to offer you? Even though I’m secondhand, as some say?”
Secondhand. Like he was a used coffee table. “Not secondhand. Experienced.” I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “That would be good—because I’m not. Experienced.” I take another deep breath and let it out slowly, knowing that I’m stripping off any armor I’ve ever accumulated. “That part scares me a little, too. Knowing there’s something I want and being afraid I’ll never have it—or that I’ll finally find someone to share things with, and they’ll tell me I’m doing it wrong.”
Douglas shakes his head vehemently. “No man worth his tusks would tell you that. You have too much raw power and grace to be anything but talented.”
As he realizes what we’re talking about, his face changes. “Oh. I... Georgia, again, I’m so sorry. I—”
“Shh. Slow. Nice and slow.” I pat his arm and try to pull my raging lust back down deep. “Tonight is inventory and dinner. And if you do a good job, you get a kiss goodnight. Deal?”
“A kiss like the last one?” There’s something playful in his tone.
“Mmmmaybe.” I wink and whisper, “That means yes. Definitely yes.”
He takes my hand and kisses it. My knees try to escape. If there weren’t shelves behind me, I would have swooned. “It’s a deal.”