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Iencountered two main problems while trying to give Oaken husband lessons.

For one thing, the dude wasbusy. Running a ranch this size was no joke, and some days he didn’t finish his chores until it was time to set up his tent beside theLavariya– something I continued trying, and failing, to convince him not to do.

The second problem was that, despite how hard he tried to follow my instructions, it somehow never quite worked out.

Take flirting, for instance. I’d told him flirting was a fun way to let someone know that you’re attracted to them. I’d told him to practise on me. And then he’d levelled me with a burning look and said, “I think you are beautiful. And I would very much like to perform cunni-linguine on you.”

After recovering from what I was terrifyingly certain had been a mini-stroke brought on by his words, I’d stammered, “Why don’t we try something a little bit more subtle?”

Then, batting my eyelashes, I’d made my voice high and breathy. “Hey, big guy.”

But in return, he’d just blinked several times in rapid succession – so violently that I began to worry he’d gotten some dust in his eyes – then said, “Hello, small female.”

My Oaken was quite the literal chap. And while I was finding him more and more charming by the day, I could tell that I wasn’t making much headway turning my favourite green guy into an alien Casanova. His specific brand of awkward, eager sincerity might have been becoming my own personal catnip, but what if the human lady he set his heart on didn’t have the same weird-yet-excellent taste that I did?

What if she didn’t see how special he was? What if she couldn’t get past his horrifically humiliating requests to give her cunni-linguine?

What if she didn’t get ticklish flutters in her belly every time he smiled? What if she didn’t dream about the way he’d carried her home their first night together? What if she didn’t wake up looking forward to seeing his tent outside her door?

What if she didn’t care about him like I-

“You are making a very serious face.”

“Holy – Oaken! When the hell did you get there?”

“I always set my tent up around this time.”

I swallowed and nodded. I’d been staring sightlessly into my cup of chai, agonizing over the last three days and my many, many failures as Oaken’s relationship coach. I hadn’t realized the time. I was sitting on the grass, leaning back against theLavariya’sside. Lala was currently inside, snoozing on a charging dock below deck.

It was just Oaken and me.

And, fuck me, he looked so good. And not just in a shirtless hottie way, which he definitely did. But also in aholy-shit-it-hurts-to-look-at-him-sometimessort of way. The setting sun cast his hide in hushed shades of green and gold and bronze. My fingers ached with the desire to touch him.

“You should sleep in your bed,” I told him, the same way I’d told him every night.

I expected him to mumble one of his usual replies to that. But instead, he looked at me with white, laser-like eyes and growled, “Youshould sleep in my bed.”

I nearly fucking dropped my tea.

“E-Excuse me?” I asked. My face went hot.

So did my clit.

“Was that not good?” Oaken asked. “I was attempting a seduction.”

“I don’t think we’ve covered any seduction techniques in the lessons yet!” I squawked.

Oaken flicked his tail.

“I was improvising.”

Holy. Maybe he didn’t need any lessons after all. If he could just cut through all the adorable awkwardness and order his wife to get into his bed with those bright white eyes and that sultry-smoke voice…

Yeah. Wow. That might fucking do it.

“But in all seriousness,” Oaken went on, plunging his tent posts into the ground and beginning to stretch leather across the tent’s frame, “you are welcome to sleep in my bed anytime.”

Anytime, he said.