Chapter 006 Morning After
The heavy lock clicked, shattering the fragile peace of the morning.
I stiffened against the wall of muscle behind me. Thokk’s arm, which had been a heavy, grounding weight around my waist all night, tightened reflexively before loosening.
The door swung open, admitting a blast of cool air that smelled of yeast, caramelized sugar, and the sharp scent of pine from the mountains.
"Delivery!" a cheerful voice boomed, bouncing off the stone walls. "Fresh bear claws for the Sheriff, and—oh."
I scrambled to sit up, my face heating so fast I thought my skin might actually singe. I was a professional. I was a deputy. I was not someone who fell asleep curled up with her boss like a golden retriever puppy seeking heat.
In the doorway stood an orc who looked like a slightly softer, flour-dusted version of Thokk. He held a white paper bag in one hand and a ring of keys in the other. His green eyes widened as they took in the scene: the narrow bunk, the rumpled wool blanket, and the two of us, clearly just untangling our limbs.
His gaze dropped to Thokk’s wrist. I glanced over. In the morning light, the gold patterns on Thokk's skin seemed to be shimmering, almost pulsing. I didn’t know much about orc biology yet, but the way the newcomer stared at it suggested it wasn’t just a trick of the light.
A slow, mischievous grin spread across the baker's face.
"Well," he drawled, leaning a massive shoulder against the doorframe. "I see you took the chance to better know our new deputy."
"It’s not—we were stuck—the door locked and—" I stammered, smoothing my hair down in a futile attempt to look dignified. My boots were still on, which felt like a small mercy.
"It was a tactical decision for thermal preservation," Thokk said. He sat up, his voice rough with sleep but his tone clipped and formal. He adjusted his uniform, though there wasn't much he could do about the wrinkles.
"Thermal preservation," the other orc repeated, testing the words like they were a new flavor of icing. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
"Give me the keys, Bram," Thokk sighed.
Bram tossed them. Thokk caught the ring effortlessly with one hand. As he stood, the bunk shifted, and I felt the sudden loss of his warmth. It was a physical deprivation, like stepping out of a hot shower into a drafty room.
"My older brother," Bram said to me, shaking his head with mock solemnity. "Defeated by a human child and a locked door. The ancestors would be weeping if they weren't laughing so hard."
"The lock was tampered with," Thokk muttered, moving to the cell door and inserting the key. The mechanism turned with a heavy thunk. "And the child had a tactical advantage. He was small and we were distracted."
"Distracted. Right." Bram winked at me. "I'm Bram, by the way. I run the bakery down the street. I brought his usual, but you look like you need the sugar more than he does."
He held out the white bag. I stepped out of the cell, my legs stiff from the hard mattress, and took it. The smell of almond paste and pastry dough was intoxicating.
"Cassidy," I said. "And I'd kill for coffee."
"Stop by the shop once you’ve had a nap, Cassidy," Bram said, his grin softening into something genuinely welcoming. "We brew the best in town. And Mina will want to meet the woman who convinced Thokk to try 'thermal preservation.'"
"Go," Thokk said, gently steering me toward the desk where my jacket lay. "The deputy work will still be here after you’ve had some sleep."
I hesitated. The instinct to stay, to prove I wasn't affected by the night's intimacy, warred with the bone-deep exhaustion dragging at my eyelids.
"I can work," I said. "I've pulled double shifts on less sleep than this."
"Not on my watch," Thokk said. He looked at me, his dark eyes scanning my face with that intensity that always made me feel like he was cataloging my vital signs. "Go to the saloon. Rest."
After years of looking out for myself, having someone worry about my well-being felt foreign. Suspicious, even. But looking at Thokk—solid, unmoving, and currently radiating a quiet, stubborn care—it wasn't unwelcome.
"Okay," I said. "But only because I smell like a jail cell."
Bram laughed, turning to leave. "See you later, Deputy."
The silence that settled after he left wasn't empty. It was heavy, filled with the memory of Thokk’s heartbeat against my back and the whisper of secrets we’d traded in the dark. I looked at the coffee pot in the corner, wondering if I should make a fresh pot before I left, just to delay walking out the door.
"I could stay," I found myself thinking. Not just in the office. In the town.
The thought hit me with the force of a physical blow. I could stay here. Put down roots. Stop looking over my shoulder for a ghost that might never find me.
Before I could spiral too deep into that dangerous hope, the front door creaked open again.
Thokk straightened immediately, his posture shifting from 'tired man' to 'Sheriff' in the blink of an eye.
Cara Winslow marched in, her hand firmly gripping the shoulder of her grandson, Billy. The kid looked miserable, his head hanging low, his sneakers dragging on the wooden floorboards.
"We have something to return," Cara announced, her voice stern. She nudged Billy forward.
Billy sniffled and held out a brass key. "I'm sorry I took the key, Sheriff Thokk."
Thokk stepped forward and took the key. He didn't loom over the boy, but he didn't crouch down to coddle him either. He just stood there, a mountain of law and order.
"We don't steal, do we, Billy?" Thokk asked quietly.
"No, sir," Billy mumbled. "I just wanted to see if the lock worked like in the movies."
"It works," Thokk said dryly. "Too well."
Cara sighed, smoothing her apron. "I'm so sorry, Sheriff. I don't know what got into him. He knows better."
"Curiosity is a powerful thing," Thokk said. He looked from the boy to Cara, his expression softening. "But safety is more important. You may not know, Billy, but there are seven of us orcs here in Dusty Gulch. We built this place. We built the jail, the bank, the homes. We did it to ensure everyone remains safe while they’re here."
He leaned in slightly, catching the boy's eye. "When you take a key, you take away my ability to keep people safe. Do you understand?"
Billy’s eyes went wide. He nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. I promise I won't do it again."
"Good." Thokk pocketed the key. "Now, I believe your grandmother has a long list of chores for you to make up for this."
"That I do," Cara said, grabbing Billy’s hand. She nodded to me. "Morning, Deputy. Sorry for the trouble."
"No harm done," I lied. My back was going to be complaining about that mattress for days.
We followed them out onto the boardwalk. The morning sun was fully up now, bathing the dusty street in a warm, golden light that made the storefronts look like something out of a postcard. It was peaceful. Deceptively so.
Cara marched down the steps, but Billy lingered for a second by the old iron mailbox mounted to the jailhouse wall. He flipped the lid open and let it clang shut.
"Billy!" Cara scolded from the sidewalk.
"I ride on the pony express!" Billy shouted, slapping the metal box. "I'm just delivering the mail!"
"Don't play with the mailbox," Cara said, hauling him away by the back of his shirt. "It could hold real mail the Sheriff and his Deputy need. Come on, now."
I watched them go, a small smile touching my lips. I reached out and shut the mailbox lid properly; the latch was a bit sticky, probably why it had been left ajar.
"Kids," I murmured.
"Chaos agents," Thokk corrected, though there was no heat in it.
We stood there for a moment on the boardwalk, the town waking up around us. A wagon rattled past. Someone across the street was sweeping their porch. It was all so normal. So safe.
I turned to Thokk. He was looking at me again, his gaze dropping to my mouth before snapping back up to my eyes. The air between us seemed to thicken, charged with the same electricity that had been there in the cell.
Our arms brushed. Heat shot up to my shoulder, searing through the fabric of my jacket. We both froze, fingers hovering inches apart.
I should walk away. I should go to the saloon, sleep for eight hours, and wake up with my professional barriers fully reconstructed.
"Thank you," I said softly.
Thokk tilted his head. "For the rescue? You can thank Bram."
"No." I looked down at his boots, unable to hold that intense green gaze. "For making sure I was warm enough last night. And... for the rest."
For listening. For not pushing. For being a solid anchor when my own mind tried to drag me under.
Thokk shifted, his large body blocking the sun, casting me in his shadow. It didn't feel ominous. It felt like shelter.
"Anytime, Cassidy," he said. His voice was a low rumble that I felt in my chest more than I heard.
I swallowed hard, nodding once. "Right. I'm going to go pass out now."
"Go," he ordered softly.
I turned and walked toward the Red Fang Saloon, forcing myself not to look back. I could feel his eyes on me with every step, a heavy, warm weight against my spine.
I’d learned a long time ago not to trust 'safe.' Safe was a lie people told you before the rug got pulled out. But as I walked through the quiet morning streets of Dusty Gulch, my heart wasn't pounding with fear. It was beating with something far more terrifying.
Possibility.