Chapter Nine
Vi spent the rest of her shift in a daze.
She’d kissed Nick Wicker. She’d kissed Nick Wicker.
He’d brought her apology brownies, of all things, and she’d kissed him.
It was like they’d swapped personalities for an afternoon.
Nick Wicker wasn’t the kind of orc to bring over apology anything, and Vi Harper was definitely not the kind of girl to kiss orcs she hated five minutes ago. Even if he was infuriatingly hot.
She just . . . She had felt so drawn to him. His shocking earnestness and his big, hopeful eyes. She had swayed into him like it wasn’t even her doing it. She’d never experienced anything like it before, and she didn’t like it.
The lack of control anyway. She deeply enjoyed the kiss. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, zoning out in the middle of work because she couldn’t stop daydreaming about his lips.
It got so bad that the part-time employee, Triss, had to wave her hand in front of Vi’s face to get her attention.
“Vi,” she hissed, tail flicking in agitation. “Customer!”
Vi blinked. Jared Wessen stood in front of her, bemused.
Triss snorted, going back to marking the returns sheet she had been doodling on. “Was there something in those brownies? Should I expect something to kick in soon?”
“Normal brownies,” Vi answered, pulling up a smile. “Jared. Hi.”
Jared pointed at the container of brownies lying open on the counter. “Snacking on the job?”
Vi forced a laugh. She’d forgotten he was roaming around the stacks.
Jared was human, a few years older than her, and worked in real estate.
He came into the bookshop every once in a while, looking for recommendations from the business section.
He’d hem and haw for a while, then leave without buying anything.
They’d been on one sort-of date last year on Gabriella’s request, and Vi had put considerable effort into turning it into a not-date as the night went on.
He was handsome and nice enough. But Vi was a seasoned professional in pretending to be interested while people droned; she didn’t want to put up with that in her personal life.
Something about stocks and bonds made Vi’s heart shrivel in her chest.
Jared leaned over the counter, peering at the battered container hiding behind the computer monitor. “Are those from the Baked Goods Bandit? I didn’t even bother going down. It’s always cleared out by the time I arrive.”
“They’re from out of town.”
“Really? Where?”
“I don’t know,” Vi admitted, giving the brownies a considering look. Where did they come from? Nick mentioned a fancy shop outside Claw Haven, but she didn’t know any.
“Well, they look great.” Jared tossed her a measured grin.
His teeth were perfectly straight and white, courtesy of a fancy New York dentist who was a friend of the family’s.
His parents had flown him over right after college.
A graduation present, he’d told Vi on their date.
Vi hadn’t bothered to tell him about her college graduation gift—a lopsided sweater knit by her mom—and he hadn’t asked.
“So do you,” Jared continued. “Look great, I mean.”
“You, too,” she replied. Then, so he didn’t misinterpret it: “Very healthy.”
“You look . . . healthy, too.” He gave her another smile, all those uncannily white teeth. “Better not start hoarding brownies.”
Vi thought about eating another one in front of him to spite him for such a rude comment. The impulse came and went, just like every other rash impulse she’d had before Nick had called her Violet one time too many.
She examined the battered brownie container again.
Nick must have felt pretty guilty if he had traveled out of town to get them.
Maybe he did think as highly of her as he claimed.
He’d almost made her sound cool. Nothing like boring Vi Harper, meek bookseller and people-pleaser extraordinaire. And kisser of strange orcs, apparently.
“Vi?”
Vi blinked. Jared had been talking. She’d missed all of it.
“Sorry,” she said. “What were you saying?”
A knock on the window made them both jolt.
Gabriella waved. She was pressing herself against the window, cheeks blown out, eyes wide.
Vi’s heart spasmed. Oh god, what if Nick had been going around telling people? Would he do that? An hour ago, she would’ve thought yes. Then he came in with apology brownies and insisting he never wanted to mess with her. She didn’t know what to think.
“You yelled at someone,” Gabriella shrieked through the glass. Then she cackled like a kid set loose in a candy shop.
Vi turned back to Jared. “Let’s talk some other time.”
“Sure thing,” he replied, staring at Gabriella as she skipped toward the front door. “I’ll let you . . . get to it.”
He headed for the door, ducking around Gabriella as she ran in. Her elbow caught his side, and he was still grimacing when the door closed behind him.
“Tell me,” Gabriella said, oblivious to her accidental elbow attack on an innocent real estate agent. “Why did I find out about this from Rosie? Where was my big sister telling me she finally let somebody have it?”
Vi looked over to Triss, who was grinning behind a clipboard as she slunk out from behind the counter and vanished into the back room.
“Nothing to tell,” Vi said. She moved the brownie container conspicuously in front of her, hoping for a distraction.
“Nothing to tell?” Gabriella echoed. “You don’t get mad at people, Vi! Not ever! Not even— Ooooh, yes, please. Bandit?”
“Nope.”
“Eh. I’ll still take it.” Gabriella snagged a brownie and stuffed half of it into her mouth in one go, covering her mouth with her hand as she continued.
“You never lose it on anyone! I can’t believe Nick would do that.
That’s so much effort just to screw with you!
I always thought you were exaggerating when you said he was making fun of you. ”
Vi’s stomach squirmed in a way that had nothing to do with a sugar rush. “He wasn’t.”
Gabriella paused mid-chew. “What?”
“He was,” Vi corrected. “But . . . not in a mean way? He thought it wasn’t in a mean way. He said he was just trying to make me laugh.”
“Oh,” Gabriella said. Her mouth curled up behind her hand. “Ohhhh.”
“No! He just . . . He said I looked stressed, and he wanted to make me laugh.”
“Of course,” Gabriella crooned. She swallowed the last of the brownie and posed, hand on her head like a fainting Victorian maiden. “Out of the goodness of his heart! He didn’t want to sleep with you at all!”
Vi thought back to Nick’s green hands on her waist, so gentle despite the calluses. And big, almost wrapping around her whole waist.
“Still sounds like he deserved it,” Gabriella said. “I can’t imagine you yelling at anyone without a very good reason.”
Vi fiddled with her hair ribbon, pulling it tight. She didn’t want to tell Gabriella about his avoidant gaze, the stiff hunch of his shoulders as he slunk out. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like she’d kicked a puppy. A jackass puppy who should’ve known better, but still.
She touched the container. “He just dropped these off. To apologize for bringing such crappy snacks last night.”
Gabriella didn’t reply, watching Vi with a gaze that was knowing and entirely, utterly wrong.
“Well,” Gabriella said. “That’s . . . nice of him.”
“It was! I really believe he’s not screwing with me. He just wants to get involved with the community.”
“Lot of responsibility to get involved,” Gabriella pointed out. “Are you sure he didn’t do it for you?”
Vi laughed in her face. It did nothing to budge Gabriella’s smug look.
“What?” Gabriella said. “He said he wants to make you laugh.”
“So he agrees to run a book club for me?” Vi groaned. “Even if he was desperately lusting after me—which he isn’t—I don’t think there’s a girl in the world he’d muster the effort for.”
I want you to have a good time, he’d said.
That didn’t mean anything. Nick Wicker didn’t date.
According to Chester, the guy had never had a relationship longer than three days.
He was a one-night-stand guy, through and through.
Even if he’d seemed oddly vulnerable at some points.
Even if he’d started saying, You deserve . . .
As if he cared what Vi deserved. As if he’d put much thought into it.
There was a small part of Vi still waiting to have the rug pulled out from underneath her.
That this new, weirdly caring version of him would wash away and underneath would be the same old Nick Wicker, ready to make Vi feel like an idiot again.
She glanced at the back room. The door was closed, but she could hear Triss swearing at something behind it.
“I need to tell Triss to come back to the counter,” she said. “I’m heading out early.”
Gabriella’s smile dropped. “Oh my god. Are you okay? Are you dying?”
Vi fended off her sister’s attempts to shove a hand to her forehead to check her temperature.
“I’m not dying,” she said. “I just . . . I need to go check on something.”
* * *
Nick lived in a small bungalow near the mountains.
It was . . . less shabby than she’d expected.
No chips in the wood, no peeling paint. The lawn had been raked, autumn leaves heaped in a pile in the corner of the yard.
But it didn’t look very homey. She never would have guessed this house belonged to Nick.
At least, not until she got to the welcome mat.
ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE, it proclaimed in big gothic font.
It also had a cartoon picture of a hot dog underneath, beaming cheerily. That seemed more like Nick.
Vi knocked.
Silence. Followed by a skidding noise and muffled swearing.
The door swung open to reveal Nick blinking owlishly, dressed in the same ratty shirt he’d been wearing earlier that day, and no jeans.
His legs were shockingly thick under his boxers.
Vi felt a bizarre impulse to press her lips to the pale green skin of his thighs.
“Hi,” Vi said. Her voice was squeaky. She cleared her throat. “Your boss said you were sick?”