Chapter Eleven
Nick woke up to a knock on the door.
He forced his eyes open. He was too warm and weirdly happy. Neither of those made sense until he looked down and saw Vi Harper nestled into his green chest, her arm flung over his middle.
She squinted up at him with those big brown eyes.
For a moment, Nick could do nothing but stare, groggy and stunned, as the events of last night came back: Vi showing up at his door.
Apologizing for the kiss. Not slapping him when he propositioned her.
Stepping into his house and into his arms . . .
There was another knock on the door.
Vi’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”
“Shit,” he agreed, grinning like an idiot as he leaped out of bed. He yanked on a pair of sweatpants and last night’s shirt and stumbled toward his bedroom door.
“Wait,” Vi whispered.
He turned expectantly. She had the sheets tugged up to her chest, groping around the floor for her bra. He tried to dull the hope shining in his chest, but it was impossible: His mate hadn’t rejected him. He still had a chance. More than a chance, if last night was anything to go on.
“Do you think you could keep this between us?”
Nick’s smile died. The hope in his chest almost died with it.
“Sure,” he said, automatic. He dragged his smile back up. “Totally. I should . . .”
He motioned at the door.
Vi nodded, sheets still clamped over her chest.
“Stay there,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”
He headed for the door, trying not to feel like he’d doomed himself all over again.
He could salvage this. He just needed time.
* * *
It was a Saturday. Nick was fully justified in assuming he wouldn’t have to suffer through his coworkers grilling him until Monday. He didn’t count on the both of them showing up on his front porch with noodle soup at 9:00 a.m.
“To calm your stomach,” Duncan told him.
Nick took the huge bowl. It was clad in plastic wrap, the glass still warm. Chunks of carrot and peas drifted in the sunny broth.
He lifted it up and sniffed, hoping they didn’t notice him sweating.
His mate was in his house right now. His mate was getting dressed, pulling on the clothes he’d taken off her last night.
He had to get back in there and convince her to give him a chance, but first he had to deal with his coworkers.
He sniffed again. “Did Betty use beast meat?”
“An orc’s favorite treat,” Wyatt sang under his breath, kicking the doormat grudgingly.
Duncan smiled wryly, mustache twisting with it. “For you? Always.”
“W-wouldn’t let us have any, either,” Wyatt added grumpily. “S-s-said you don’t eat enough.”
Nick cradled the giant bowl to his chest. “Not a problem with Betty’s noodle soup,” he said, trying not to show how touched he was.
He felt a little bad that Duncan’s wife spent all this time and effort to make him feel better, when he’d felt fine the second he knew his mate hadn’t rejected him.
He’d actually have to go to their next barbecue so he could thank her.
Duncan was still looking at him, far too knowing.
Nick rubbed a thumb against the plastic wrap, thinking about all the YouTube videos he had queued up to tell him about Austen’s Persuasion.
He was still making his way through the book, but thanks to the old-timey language, he only understood a third of what was going on, and he could only read half a chapter at a time before he got exhausted and had to stop.
Something clinked in the hallway behind him.
Duncan and Wyatt craned their heads.
“Well,” Nick said, loud enough that Duncan and Wyatt jumped. He pulled the door toward him, so they couldn’t see past him, and continued: “I should—”
Duncan cut him off. “Did Vi drop by last night? She was asking after you yesterday, just before close. Told her where you lived.”
“Not sure you’re legally allowed to do that,” Nick said, heart beating a mile a minute. “I could sue.”
Wyatt guffawed. “Y-yeah, Duncan! He could s-s-s-s-” He bared his teeth, twisting his tongue. “S-s-goddamn-sue.”
Duncan patted his back. Wyatt batted the hand away, scowling.
“She came around,” Nick said, hugging the soup. “Anyway, I should—”
Duncan shoved his foot in front of the door. “To apologize?”
Nick paused. Too long.
“We heard about her t-tearing you a new one,” Wyatt explained.
“She came to apologize for yelling at me.” Nick laughed mirthlessly. “She didn’t need to. I deserved it.”
Duncan narrowed his eyes. He was silent for so long that Nick narrowed his eyes back, waiting.
“Did you two . . .”
Nick barked an out-of-control laugh. “No! Jesus. That’s . . . No.”
His sweaty hand spasmed around the doorknob. It was just his face in the doorway now, the rest of him hidden behind the door, the hallway hopefully invisible to the well-meaning orcs lurking on his porch.
“Okay,” Duncan said slowly. “So what’s the fuss? You’re annoying. Did you say something really stupid at the book club?”
“No. Yes. I just— I didn’t do the bare minimum shit required. Like always. She didn’t take it well.”
“Sounds about right,” Duncan said. “That kid puts her heart into everything.”
“Yeah,” said Nick, who hadn’t put his heart into anything for so long he barely remembered how.
He half-assed his job, even though he liked it.
His cooking was born from stress. His vegetable garden was growing wild in the backyard.
His motorcycle needed another coat of paint.
He loved that motorcycle—he’d bought it when he was a teenager after saving for a year—and he still didn’t take proper care of it.
It was the only reason he’d never gotten a pet.
He couldn’t live with himself if he half-assed taking care of a living, breathing animal because of his half-assed lifestyle.
“So what next?” Duncan asked. “You dropping out?”
Nick swallowed. “Not yet.”
Wyatt looked surprised. Duncan didn’t. Nick had no idea why.
“Glad to hear it,” Duncan said. He tapped the bowl in Nick’s hands, the golden broth shaking with the vibrations. “You get some rest. Give me a call if you can’t make it on Monday.”
“Will do,” Nick said hastily.
Wyatt started to walk off. Duncan stayed there, looking almost expectant.
Nick didn’t understand why. Then Duncan looked back to where Vi’s bike was leaning against his fence, and Nick choked on his own spit.
“There’s something wrong with it,” he stammered. “I’m dropping it off to her today! After I fix the . . . stuff.”
“Got it,” Duncan said dryly. He paused, and Nick waited to see if he was going to get caught on such an obvious lie. Then Duncan shrugged and turned to follow Wyatt down the path.
Nick closed the door, slumping against it in relief. He hoped Vi wasn’t listening in. He’d embarrassed himself in front of her enough for one week.
He turned around to find Vi standing in the hallway behind him.
“Jesus,” he gasped, clasping the soup to his chest.
She stepped back apologetically. “Sorry! Sorry. I was trying not to make noise.”
He flashed her a thumbs-up. “Good job. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
She laughed nervously, tugging her hair ribbon. It was tied in a messy knot around her ponytail, strands of hair falling over her face.
Nick’s hand twitched to push them behind her ears. To fall to his knees and beg her to stay. To give him a chance.
He gripped the soup bowl harder. “So. This was . . . nice.”
She nodded. She looked embarrassed again, the same way she had when she was standing on his front porch, saying she shouldn’t have kissed him. Like she was going to go straight back into that distant politeness she used with everybody else.
You don’t need to worry, she’d told him. I won’t fall in love with you.
He wasn’t going to force anything. But he wasn’t ready to let her go, either. He’d make sure she liked him—really liked him—the way she’d talked about at the barbecue, the kind of like that had nothing to do with whatever was magically pointing them toward each other. And then he’d tell her.
Panicking, he stuck out a hand. “Friends?”
She stared at his hand. Some of the awkwardness seeped out of her expression, replaced by an amused wryness.
“Friends,” she agreed, taking his hand.
Nick shook it, hoping she didn’t realize how much he was sweating. If he got too eager, she might sniff him out. Ask him why he was so enthusiastic. He had to be cool about this. At least, until the time was right.
A memory pinged at the back of his mind. “Am I bad at handshakes?”
“Yes! You’re all over the place. Just . . .” Vi calmed Nick’s wild pumping, slowing it to a gentle up and down. “There we go. And then let go.”
He dropped her hand. His hand tingled at his side, the same way it had tingled when he had touched her face for the first time.
She tightened her hair ribbon again. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
Nick’s heart leaped. Was she asking to stick around?
“Oh, you know,” he said, hoping it came out calmer than he felt. “Lazy Saturday. You?”
“Same,” Vi said, with a pause that let him know she was absolutely lying.
As if he wouldn’t know that automatically.
Vi Harper didn’t have lazy Saturdays. She always had a quiz to host, or a charity to volunteer for, or a neighbor’s pet to walk, or one of the thousands of other things she kept agreeing to for some reason.
Vi opened the door. After a quick glance to check the coast was clear, she looked back.
“Well, have a good lazy Saturday!”
“You, too,” he said. He waited until he heard her bicycle ride off. Then he ran to grab his shoes.
* * *