Chapter 1 #2
“Sofia.” Two of Dakvaar’s fingertips rested against my wrist, and the feel of him touching me shocked me into silence as much as his interruption. “She is causing no trouble.” Without moving his hand, he swung his gaze back to my daughter. “She just looks lonely.”
“Oh.” Breathe. Breathe, you idiot. Don’t pull away, you can’t afford to alienate your best customer. Right. That’s why I didn’t step away from his touch. “Um… Maybe?”
To my surprise, his lips twitched on one side, and he removed his touch from my wrist to tap one finger against his nose. “She is your kitling.”
“What does that mean?” I blurted. “She has my nose?”
Another twitch of his lips, which basically counted as Dakvaar’s smile. “She has your scent. Orc senses are stronger than humans’. And besides, the two of you look alike.”
She had my scent?
It was an outrageous enough claim that I felt myself relaxing as I realized he didn’t mean any harm. “Um…yes.” I sighed and didn’t deny it was in relief. “That’s Rosa—she’s five.”
It was probably rude, the way I tightened up anytime I noticed someone showing interest in my daughter, but how could I not? If they knew who she was…if word got back to Houston somehow…
Still, it was obvious Dakvaar hadn’t meant any harm, and he was my best customer, waiting there in expectant silence. And the thing about silence is that I had a bad habit of trying to fill it.
“One of my neighbors runs an in-home daycare out of her apartment.” I forced myself to relax as I finally poured him his refill.
“Rosa loves being around the other kids, and she’s learning a lot too.
But I can only afford to send her there three days a week—Monday, Wednesday, Friday—and the manager allows her to hang out here with me on the other days.
” I was blathering, wasn’t I? I couldn’t seem to stop.
“Tuesdays and Thursdays are my light shifts—I only work breakfast—but the weekends can be pretty crazy, and she ends up having to sit in the kitchen. Luckily, she’s pretty well-behaved. ”
As long as she has my phone to watch.
As if Dakvaar could hear my thoughts, his lips pulled down around his tusks. “You work seven days a week? Do you not take rest days?”
It was probably the aftermath of the panic mixing with the relief which caused my bark of laughter to sound so harsh. “I see you don’t rent an apartment in Bramblewood.”
“No, I don’t.”
Right. The team probably paid him a ridiculous amount for his skills on the ice. “Well, the cost of living is ridiculous these days, Dakvaar. I have to work seven days a week.”
“And you can still only afford three days of childcare.”
Now he was getting it. I forced a smile and stepped back, gripping the pitcher in front of me like a shield. “Maggie—my manager is understanding, and I’m ridiculously lucky.”
He was still frowning, but it had turned thoughtful. Now he nodded, his gaze drifting back to my daughter. “Thank you,” he said, then clarified, “for knowing my name and my order, and speaking with me.”
Why did my heart clench at that formal phrasing? “Of course!” My tone was too bright, too cheerful. “That’s my job.”
Was it my imagination, or did he wince slightly at that?
Well, maybe I’d been harsh, but it was the truth; being kind to him was part of my job.
You’d be kind to him even if you weren’t waiting on him.
Of course I would. I wasn’t a horrible person.
You’re kind to him because he’s kind to you. And because you like the challenge of trying to make him smile. And because you like taking care of him. And because each morning when he walks in here, you get a little burst of serotonin.
That too.
I hid my sigh as I went to greet my next table.
Because I did like Dakvaar. If he stopped coming to Sunrise Café for breakfast, I’d miss him, and not just because he was my best customer.
I liked that he was an orc, and I got to get to know him.
I mean, in my old life, I’d known orcs and other monsters existed in our world, but I’d never seen one, much less chatted with one, much less learned fascinating things about their senses.
What else can he sense?
Startled at the thought, my gaze snapped up. I was in the kitchen and couldn’t see him, but still. What could he sense? He’d known when his question had made me uncomfortable—could he have smelled that? Or heard my heartbeat or something?
Well, carajo.
I was so used to hiding my emotions and thoughts that it was strange to think here was someone who could guess what was in my heart despite my smile or teasing tone. The years belonging to Anthony had taught me how to smile, how to look like I was enjoying myself—if not for me, then for Rosa.
Something told me that Dakvaar would see right through that mask.
What does it matter? It’s not like you’re going to be seeing him outside of the café or anything. Just keep your conversations polite and impersonal, and you’re looking at a cool thirty percent every morning.
Right. And a pound of bacon and a huge omelette wasn’t cheap, so those thirty percents added up.
I needed to remember that. Dakvaar was my best customer—and only my best customer. Didn’t matter if I was intrigued by his stoicism and quiet gratitude. I needed to keep this professional.
Still, I watched him.
He ate in silence, nodding only in thanks when I brought him his check. But he spent the time watching Rosa thoughtfully. When Debbie refilled her juice and my daughter thanked her sweetly, I thought I even saw a ghost of a smile on his lips.
And after Dakvaar had left, and I went to clear his table, I found he’d paid for his forty-dollar meal with a hundred-dollar bill. I stared down at it, torn between gratitude and shame that he pitied me.
I told myself part of me had known what I was doing when I’d told him about the high cost of living in this area. Had I unconsciously been trying to guilt him into tipping me more? He could afford it, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t given him great service.
Still, the thought of his pity curdled something in my stomach, and as I tucked the bill into my server book, I vowed to make it worth his while.
He came in every morning, and I would make certain Dakvaar had the best damn breakfasts of his life.