Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HALEY
Istood outside Tolrek’s door at six forty-three, my overnight bag weighing about a thousand pounds on my shoulder.
The hallway was quiet. His building was older than mine, with crown molding along the ceiling and scuffed hardwood floors that probably predated both of us. Someone down the hall was cooking something with garlic. A television echoed behind one of the doors.
I’d packed the bag three times. The first version had too much.
I’d looked like I was moving in. The second had too little, just toiletries and a change of clothes that screamed walk of shame.
The third attempt sat on my shoulder now, somewhere between the two extremes, though I’d still second-guessed my pajama choice at least six times.
The blue ones with the shorts. Cute but not trying too hard. Comfortable but not frumpy.
I was losing my mind over pajamas.
My hand rose to knock, then paused halfway there.
The door opened before my knuckles connected with wood.
Tolrek stood inside, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, barefoot, his hair down around his shoulders. The apartment behind him glowed with warm light.
“I heard you,” he said. “You should’ve knocked.”
“I was working up to it.”
“I figured.” He gave me a crooked smile and took my bag before stepping back, making space for me to enter. When I’d passed the threshold, he closed the door and slid the deadbolt home.
The smell hit me first, something savory and rich, with herbs I couldn’t name. Cooking. He’d been cooking.
Four pounds of enthusiastic Yorkie launched himself at my shins.
“Beau.” I crouched down, laughing as he tried to climb into my lap and lick my face simultaneously. “Hi, baby. I missed you too.”
He made sounds that suggested I’d abandoned him for years instead of days, his whole body wiggling.
“He’s been watching the door for the past hour,” Tolrek said. “I think he knew you were coming.”
“Smart dog.” I scratched behind Beau’s ears, and he rolled onto his back, demanding belly rubs. “Very smart dog.”
Tolrek hefted my bag, frowning. “How long are you planning to stay?”
“One night. Why?”
“This bag suggests otherwise.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “I might need more than one pair of underwear.”
His gaze dropped to my hips, then back to my face. “You won’t need any at all.”
The air between us changed, heat replacing the awkwardness.
Beau jumped off my lap and trotted toward the kitchen, clearly expecting me to follow.
“He wants to show you his kingdom,” Tolrek said.
“Lead the way.”
The apartment was smaller than mine but felt more lived-in. A couch that had seen better days sat by the left wall, but it looked comfortable. What looked like a handmade patchwork quilt lay across the back.
The sketch of Beau hung on the wall across from the couch.
I’d drawn it on my sketchpad and handed it to him without thinking. I hadn’t known what it meant when I gave it to him. Standing here now, I understood that it had meant something before I’d had words for what we were.
I looked away before he could see my face.
The kitchen opened off the living room, just big enough for two people if they didn’t mind being close. A pot simmered on the stove, steam rising.
“What are you making?” I moved closer to peer at the contents.
“My grandmother’s recipe. Braised meat with root vegetables.” He stirred the pot, his attention on the contents rather than me. “I haven’t made it in years. It might be terrible.”
“It smells incredible.”
“Wait until you taste it.”
“That bad?”
“I forgot the herbs until twenty minutes ago.”
I bumped his arm with my shoulder. “I’m sure it’s perfect.”
He looked down at me, his expression softening. “You’re easy to feed.”
“Savina said that about me.”
“She was right.”
A paperback lay on the counter, face down to hold the page. History of something. The title too far away to read.
Beau circled our feet. Tolrek reached down and scooped him up one-handed, holding him against his chest. The size contrast was ridiculous, a seven-foot orc cradling a dog small enough to fit in a cereal bowl.
“He’s been waiting for you.” Tolrek scratched under Beau’s chin. “He sits by the window and watches your building.”
My throat tightened. “Really?”
“Every evening around the time you usually get home.”
“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“He’s loyal.” Tolrek set Beau back on the floor.
“Thank you for the frames, by the way,” I said. “They’re gorgeous. I love antique things.” He’d remembered.
“You needed them.”
“I did. I’ve been collecting sketches for years and they’ve been sitting in a portfolio.”
“When you fill them, let me know and I’ll get you some more.”
“How long until dinner’s ready?” I asked.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Can I help?”
“You can sit and keep me company.”
There was only one chair at the small kitchen table, so I perched on the counter instead, my legs swinging. Tolrek moved around the space with the ease of someone who’d cooked here often, checking the pot and adjusting the heat.
“Tell me about Beau’s routine,” I said, needing to fill the silence with something safe.
“He wakes me up at five thirty every morning. No exceptions, not even on days I’d rather sleep until six.”
“That’s early.”
“He has no concept of weekends.” Tolrek pulled wide bowls from the cabinet. “We walk around the block. He investigates every smell like it’s new, even though we take the same route every time. Then he has breakfast. After that, he naps until I leave for practice.”
“You said you take him to doggie daycare?”
“Every day. When I’m away, someone comes in to take care of him, while he guards the apartment from threats that don’t exist.”
I smiled. “He takes his job seriously.”
“Very much so. You should see him when the mail carrier comes. He’s convinced she’s an invader who must be warned away with barking.”
“Four pounds of ferocity.”
“Exactly.” Tolrek ladled food onto the plates, the portions generous. “Daycare sends me photos of him playing with the other dogs. He’s always trying to wrestle with animals ten times his size.”
“Where does he get that from?”
Tolrek’s mouth twitched. “Renkar used to do the same thing. Challenge people bigger than him to prove he could.”
“Did he win?”
“Sometimes. Usually he just made them laugh hard enough that they forgot why they were fighting.”
The grief in his voice was still there, but softer now.
He set the plates on the table and pulled out the single chair. “Sit.”
“Where will you sit?”
“I’ll stand.”
“That’s ridiculous. We can share the counter.”
We ended up side by side on the counter, plates balanced on our laps, close enough that our shoulders touched. Beau sat at our feet, staring up with hope in his eyes.
I’d never eaten food as amazing as this before. The meat fell apart at the touch of a fork, and the vegetables had soaked up the broth until they melted on my tongue.
“This is incredible,” I said around a mouthful.
“You’re being kind.”
“I’m being honest. This is the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks.”
He looked pleased.
Beau eventually gave up hoping for tributes and trotted off to his bed in the corner of the living room. The sounds of the building filtered in, footsteps above us and a door closing down the hall.
“I take my coffee black.” The words burst out of Tolrek.
I blinked. “What?”
“I take it black, no sugar.”
“That’s very orc of you.”
“Is it?”
“Practical. No frills.”
“What about you?”
“Cream and sugar. Enough that it barely counts as coffee.”
His mouth curved. “That’s very human of you.”
“I have a weak constitution. I can’t handle the bitterness.”
“I don’t think you’re weak.”
The way he said it made heat pool low in my belly.
I set my empty plate aside and nudged the book on the counter. “Interesting topic.”
“You love antiques. I love history. I either read that or tactical analysis. Game tape breakdowns.”
“That’s depressing.”
“What do you read?”
“Romance novels where everyone gets a happy ending and nobody’s father finds out they’re sleeping with a player on his roster.”
The joke landed wrong.
Tolrek took my empty plate and set it beside his. “We have a week.”
“I know.”
“We don’t have to think about that conversation yet.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Are you succeeding?”
“Not even a little bit.”
He slid off the counter and turned to face me, his hands resting on either side of my hips. “I could distract you.”
My pulse kicked up. “How?”
“I have a few ideas.”
The counter put me at almost eye level with him, close enough to see the flecks of darker green in his irises. I could count the individual strands of hair that had fallen forward over his shoulders.
“I like your ideas so far,” I said.
“You haven’t heard them yet.”
“I’m extrapolating.”
His hands moved to my waist, stroking small circles through my shirt. “You do that a lot.”
“It’s my job.”
“What are you extrapolating now?”
“That you’re going to kiss me.”
“Am I?”
“I hope so.”
He leaned in slowly, giving me time to close the distance or pull away. I did nothing of the sort.
The kiss started gentle, his lips moving on mine with a patience that made me ache.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands tightened on my waist, and the kiss deepened.
When we broke apart, we were both flushed.
“I brought pajamas,” I said, because my brain had stopped working properly.
“You won’t need them.”
“You said that about my panties.”
“I meant it both times.”
I laughed, the sound shaky. “We should probably move to the couch.”
“Probably.”
Neither of us did.
“Tolrek?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for cooking dinner.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And for hanging my sketch where you can see it.”
“It deserves to be seen.”
“And for leaving the frames by my door.”
“You needed them.”
“And for being exactly who you are.”
His eyes darkened. “Haley—”
I kissed him again before he could finish, pouring everything I couldn’t say into it.