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“You want the bed on this wall, with the shelf as a separator. And then the couch goes there,” he pointed to the wall next to the glass door to my tiny balcony. “If you move your table a little closer to the kitchen, it should give you a pretty good layout.”

“Wow. You’re right. Thatwasa beans on toast moment. Also, I don’t know about you, but I am hungry after this shopping trip. Would you like something to eat?”

“Yeah that would be great.” Bee gave me that smile again that put all his perfect teeth on display.

“Is it okay if I order food for us? I can cook but I kind of want to build the bed today.” I rasped my hand over the back of my neck, feeling embarrassed about all the weirdly loaded things we said to each other.

“Gods, you’re cute. Order something for us and we can split the bill.”

Chapter 11

Beryl

“No,” Kjartan said with a finality that made me laugh. “Sorry. I spend very little money. I don’t go out or drink or have fancy hobbies. If it’s alright with you I would like to invite you. As a thank you for shopping with me.”

“Okay.” Mm, he made it so difficult for me to keep my distance with his adorable smiles. And the clumsy flirting interspersed with him being hot as fuck and saying this shit that kept me hard half the time.

“Do you think we can build this before the food gets here?” Kjartan asked me once he’d placed our order with the only restaurant that delivered to his place.

“Let’s try.”

We first had to move his couch to the other side and hoover under it, but we managed to get the frame built before the doorbell rang.

“I’ll go get it.”

Fuck, yes. Please go and get it already!

I had no idea what I was doing here, on our first official date, building a bed for a massive scarred Orc hunk with a great ass and social anxiety.

“Wow, that smells great. What is it?” I asked, getting up from the floor with a low groan when I stretched my cramping leg muscles.

“Are you alright?” Kjartan paused, surveying me from head to toe with narrowed eyes.

“Yep, I’m just getting old.” I smirked at him but he only looked confusedly back at me. “I’m kidding. My left knee just hurts when I kneel for longer than a few minutes. Food?”

“Oh, yes. I hope you like Italian?”

“Who doesn’t?” Grinning, I climbed out of the bed frame and plopped down at the table.

“I am sorry for this,” he muttered when he’d gotten us forks and glasses of water.

“For not serving me a glass of wine?” I raised my water at him.

“No. This date…it’s not going well, is it?”

“What? This is one of the best first dates I’ve ever had.” I gave him a slightly-too-gooey smile before focusing back on my pasta.

“For me too,” Kjartan rasped, briefly squeezing my free hand.

Over our dinner he told me a bit about his job at Struan Fox’s company.

“How long have you worked for him?”

His eyes hung on my mouth for a long moment as I slurped a forkful of spaghetti before he got his face under control.

“Uh, almost five years. He gave me a job after I had been here only for a few weeks. After I came over from Tír Suaite,” he added. I loved how it sounded from his lips, “Tyr Soocha,” deep and…magical, perhaps, like the land itself.

I watched him run his fingers absently over the scar at the side of his neck, to soothe or stir the memories, I didn’t know.