Chapter 8
With an unflattering groan, Breht rolled out of bed. The hangover was immediate and unforgiving, pressing behind his eyes like a vice. He showered in a haze of fragmented memories—the taste of her lips, the softness of her skin, the way she'd looked at him when he pulled back.
He could still feel the ghost of her touch as he dressed and made his way across town to retrieve his car.
The memory of her didn't sting with regret.
Instead, it settled in his chest like something precious.
He'd made the right choice last night. She deserved better than a man half-drunk and emotionally raw, and the fact that she'd understood that, that she hadn't pushed or demanded more, only made him respect her more.
The keys for his C-Class were removed from his suit pocket when he arrived outside Alluin's house.
With a low beep, it admitted him. He settled himself in the driving seat and adjusted the mirror before starting the car's purring engine.
The music from the day before sounded too loud in his ears, and he hastened to turn it down.
He thought about her ears; how she'd discovered his sensitivity there, how she'd touched him with such tenderness. The memory made him smile despite the pounding in his head. That restraint had been worth it. She was worth it.
Clicking ticks of the indicator sounded as he signalled before driving off.
It was an odd place for him to travel by car.
None of the secret passages he walked down during his youth was accessible by car.
It seemed to take him a lifetime to drive the route he’d walked, skipped and laughed down the previous night.
Eventually, he pulled up outside the fateful front gate.
Stopping outside of it with a regretful toot of his horn that blared through his foggy head.
He waited in the car, soothed by the easy tones of Dermot Kennedy singing about love, loss and regret.
Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered kissing her—the softness of her lips, the way she'd touched his ears with such tenderness, the feeling of her fingers in his hair.
He wanted nothing more than to do it again.
His heart quickened at the thought. He swallowed; a nervous tick that triggered only during unwitting excitement.
The anticipation of seeing her again made it hard to focus on anything else.
Blessed distraction came as the door to his car opened and the sing-song announcement of ‘Good morning’ chipped through his horny hangover. Never mind that it was entirely thoughts of the woman who settled next to him, putting on her seatbelt, making him feel so worked up.
“Morning,” he replied.
“Ouch, you look rough,” Brierley complimented as she closed the door behind her.
“Red wine,” Breht grumbled. At least with Brierley in the car with him, he could stop daydreaming over what could and might have been and focus on the task at hand.
The drive across town was filled with easy banter, mostly consisting of gentle mockery of the orc's hangover. It wasn’t as though the journey across town was far, and he’d much rather have walked, if not for the agreement that they had work to do.
He drove them both back to the centre of town and into the car park they’d left only the day before.
Pleased to have found a vacant spot even though there was a plethora of other occupants already in situ, mostly eager tourists looking to make good use of the sunshine.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Brierley asked once the engine had stopped.
Breht turned in his seat to face her. “Well, we need to get the word out that you’re relaunching your product,” he said as impassively as possible. “And while you could rely on social media, you don’t currently have any presence on it.”
“Is that bad?”
He pulled a bit of a face before he answered.
“Eh, not exactly. Social media is good to bring awareness to your brand, but you want actual footfall in terms of traffic, not likes and validation. Don’t get me wrong, if you were selling online, then it’d be invaluable, and you’d have to be Instagramming and TikTokking your way to success, but for what you’re after? ” He shook his head.
“So what are we doing?” She asked with a healthy mix of curiosity and eagerness.
He leaned closer to her chair and fumbled about for something stashed on the back seat.
She was conscious of how close he was to her; the scent of his fresh aftershave washed over her.
After spending the night alone, she just wanted to get her business in order.
Now her head was clearer, she wanted to get Ohpaua's relaunch out of the way before making another proposition.
But the alluring scent filling her nose made her want to pull him closer, especially with the way he was intently staring at her mouth
Her mouth, the very lips he'd been kissing, replayed in his mind all morning.
He wanted to press against them again, to feel that connection one more time.
Last night had changed something in him—the way she'd touched him, the way she'd looked at him.
He couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop wanting her.
Seeing her now, in the morning light, made it nearly impossible to focus on anything else.
His heart was racing just from being this close to her.
Instead, his fingers gripped a stack of small papers.
"Getting intimate with the locals," he answered, putting a pile of papers on her knee. They were here to work.
“Do I have something on my face?” He heard her asking, and her fingers rose to touch the side of her mouth.
Suddenly aware of his continued staring, “No, nothing like that,” he answered, trying to give her a small smile.
He opened his car door, the spell of her broken, and, still holding his own stack of leaflets, he got out of the car, crossing around the front to open Brierley's car door and helping her out of the car.
They made their way to the corner of the high street, where the highest percentage of locals and holidaymakers would mingle.
It took Breht no time at all to hit his stride in confidently approaching people about the newly opening business.
He drifted towards older couples and those adults that had no children with them, carefully picking out his targets to preach about Ohpaua to.
Whereas Brierley took her time to warm up to the task, handing out flyers without really engaging with those who took them.
She drifted from one side of the street to the other, handing out the leaflets to anyone who would take them; a wide net of untargeted canvassing.
She looked at one of the leaflets and marvelled at how elegant her newly designed store seemed.
She hadn’t even seen inside of her own store yet; somehow, Breht had managed to get leaflets printed with new pictures of the shop and some of her jewellery.
She looked between the leaflet and the happily chatting orc.
Everything seemed to come so naturally to him, and she felt a twist of envy that his life seemed so perfect!
Another leaflet was randomly handed out.
A young woman took the leaflet and looked at the pictures.
Instantly, the young woman started chatting animatedly over the jewellery, and Brierley fell into her stride.
Talking about the Paua shell came with natural ease; she adored speaking about their origins and the personal story behind the Abalone she used.
Her passion finally won out as the young woman listened with rapt awe.
Breht managed to say a farewell to the couple he’d been talking to and passed out a few leaflets when he noticed that Brierley was animatedly talking with someone.
He used her cheerful, distracted enthusiasm as an excuse to dip out and get them both a coffee.
While he would be happy to help her give out the leaflets, the more work she did herself in promoting the new store would only work in her favour.
When he returned, the leaflets tucked under his arm, hands full of coffee, she was talking to some other people about the store.
He grinned. Proud of how quickly she adapted to the sales technique that suited her.
There was the cold stab of possessive orcishness that churned his gut as he watched her talk to a potential customer, a man around her own age.
His fingers tightened on the coffee cup he held, struggling to keep the very core of the inner beast under check.
Brierley hadn't even noticed he’d vanished to get them a drink.
When she’d finished talking, he waved the cup at her, and she came bounding over with genuine joy plastered on her face. “I never realised this could be so much fun,” she enthused.
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he grinned broadly behind his tusks.
All the joy of the hard sale for him was a facade, something he’d trained at while under Dura’s studious gaze.
While imparting this knowledge to her was something he’d cherish, something he longed to give to others to help them bloom.
Today, he’d much rather be snuggled up somewhere, but if Brierley was happy, he was overjoyed.
It took Brierley no time at all to finish drinking the coffee and resume handing out the remaining leaflets and resume conversations about her work.
He filtered into the background, giving out leaflets to those he assumed would be interested in purchasing her crafts.
By the time early afternoon came around, his stomach growled, and he insisted, with only a few of the papers left, that they grab a quick bite to eat and return to the store.
He was excited to show her what he had done.