Page 1 of Bread with the Orc (Harmony Glen #6)

Chapter One

Laney

I didn’t bother to fight the tears as my fingers fumbled with the hooks of the Closed Indefinitely sign that I was hanging over the piece of plywood I’d inexpertly painted with so much hope all those months ago.

The curlicues of Harmony Tea Shop and the “open hours” disappeared behind a sign of my failure.

It is okay to cry, blossom. Our sadness should be shared, the same way we share our happiness.

Even the memory of my mother’s words didn’t cheer me; if anything, the tears came harder. I missed her so much, and today…? Today I just needed a hug.

I wondered if Maggie was busy editing one of her videos and could hug me.

God, I was acting like a baby, wasn’t I? What was my plan? To just run over there and curl up on her couch and demand cuddles like some kind of lost fox? I was stronger than that, wasn’t I?

Sniffling, I stepped back to admire the stupid closed sign, unable to help myself. It really was painted with cheerful colors, there was that at least. And it was nice and straight and even, so there was that too. The town would know that whoever painted and hung up this sign had pride.

Too much pride, maybe.

With a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan, I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, not caring that I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Maybe I was half-hoping one of the townspeople bustling down Verdant Street would see me and stop and give me a hug.

Damn, there I went with needing a hug again.

I sighed and used my palms to wipe away the tears.

Closed Indefinitely .

More like Failed Indefinitely .

My tea shop, the business I’d worked so hard to make into a success this last year…had failed. I had failed.

Just like Baba had said would happen.

“What’s wrong?”

The voice—somewhere between a snap and a growl—had me sucking in a breath and whirling about. When my eyes confirmed what my ears had already guessed as to the growler’s identity, my chest hiccupped between oh no and God, yes !

“Hello, Dorvak,” I managed, pasting on a smile and pretending no one could tell I’d been crying. “Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”

The big orc—over seven feet tall, green, forearms right out of a girl’s dreams, and a perpetual scowl tugging his tusks downward—peered at me suspiciously.

For months now his bakery had been right next to my tea shop, and despite me going in once a week to buy myself a fresh loaf of sourdough—I didn’t even like sourdough, I just liked the smell of it…

and the smell of him—this might be the first time he’d ever actually looked at me.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated.

A male of few words.

I opened my mouth to explain, then slowly closed it. I was a female of a lot of words, and everything I knew about Dorvak—not that I’d been drooling over him or anything all these months—told me he wasn’t the kind to appreciate being blubbered all over.

Which I was in very real danger of doing.

So instead of going into the whole thing here on the sidewalk, I kept my smile plastered on. “Nothing’s wrong. What makes you think something’s wrong?”

He gave me A Look.

Now, I’m no expert on orcs or monsters in general.

For all I know, this look was common for him.

Maybe it was just the way he always looked at weirdos?

Or maybe I was interpreting it correctly and it did mean: What makes me think something’s wrong?

The fact you’re sobbing in the street while staring at your failed business and you look like a tomato .

The tomato thing might’ve been some poetic license on my part, but it was likely true.

I wasn’t a pretty crier.

Instead of answering my ridiculous question, Dorvak switched his difficult-to-read scowl from me, to my Closed Indefinitely sign, and back again to me. Then he jerked his head toward the door to his bakery.

“Come in.”

Was that…was that an invitation? An order?

I glanced at my sad, lonely little shop, then mentally shrugged. As I stepped through his door, I saw him flip his sign to Closed , and figured that’s why he’d stepped out front in the first place.

Inside, I couldn’t resist taking a deep breath of the beautifully scented space. “This place always smells amazing.”

“Dough’s rising for tomorrow,” he grunted as he slipped past me, heading for the space behind the counter.

Dorvak’s bakery was in a much bigger space than mine; maybe someone in the past had knocked out a wall or two. All I knew was that whereas the tables and chairs in my tea shop were crammed together, his big open room was empty enough to echo as I followed him on my ballet flats.

My fingers itched to slap a coat of paint on these walls, or hang some art— any art, frankly. The space was bare, only a step above cinderblock walls, and the only ornamentation was a handwritten listing of the day’s offerings on a whiteboard behind the counter .

“Why don’t you do something with this place?” I asked, glancing around. “Don’t get me wrong; your bread is amazing . But surely you could do more with it.”

“Like what?” he grunted, coming from the back with a small to-go cardboard box.

“Tables, chairs…” I turned slowly in a circle, contemplating the space.

“Someplace where people could sit and enjoy their snacks. Decorations? A nice menu. A cute kids’ corner—a fuzzy rug, toys, that sort of thing.

When I have kids, I would love to have someplace like that where they could play while I hung out with friends. ”

“I don’t sell snacks, and I don’t need people to hang out , kids or otherwise. They buy their bread, they leave.” He thrust the box at me. “Here. Had some leftovers.”

Pushing aside his lack of business acumen when it came to convincing customers to linger, I curiously peeked under the lid. “Bearclaws!” I gasped, yanking the box open. “Oh my God, Dorvak, these are my favorite!”

That last part might’ve been a little muffled, considering I’d taken a big bite of the pastry.

The gorgeous orc just watched me chew, his gaze on my mouth. When I swallowed, he nodded, the nod of an artist who’s confident in his work. “You looked like you needed some sugar.”

Did I? I mean, I was what the romance novels referred to as curvy , and I liked my curves, but I wasn’t sure if that was an insult or not. So I narrowed my eyes and shut the box lid once more. “What does that mean? ”

He merely shrugged and turned away. “Sugar makes people smile, I’ve noticed.”

It was a simple statement, and one he almost tossed away as he pulled out the plastic wrap. I watched him as he began to cover the metal bowls—was that his dough?—and slide them into an industrial fridge.

Dorvak…had wanted to make me smile? He’d seen my tears and wanted to make me feel better?

I dropped my gaze to the box in my hands. The bearclaw had made me feel better. But now? Just knowing he’d wanted to make me smile? That worked. My chest did feel lighter for some reason.

Maybe pastries were just as good as hugs.

I caught him watching me as he closed the fridge door, and this time when I tried to smile, it felt a little more natural. “Thanks,” I managed. “These are really good.”

He shrugged off the compliment and slid the yeast into its designated spot. “I make them for Feydin to bring to his Mate.”

Feydin, Feydin… “Oh! The Gargoyle at the botanical gardens! Dazy likes bearclaws too?”

“Dazy likes anything sweet. It was part of how he wooed her.” Was it my imagination, or did Dorvak look a little… proud ? “I helped.”

My smile was definitely growing as I slid my fingers beneath the lid of my box to tear off a piece of the pastry.

“If you made these for him to give to her, I could absolutely believe you helped. They’re amazing.

” When I popped the piece into my mouth, I didn’t bother to hide my moan at the explosion of sweetness across my tongue.

Dorvak stared at me.

No, he was staring at my mouth .

Suddenly self-conscious, I turned away, looking for some way to distract us both from my ridiculous sounds.

“Why aren’t these bearclaws on the menu?

” I blurted, stepping toward the front counter.

“People would go nuts over these. Oooh, you could switch out the nuts—almonds one day, pecans the next…”

As I mused, I snatched up a rag and cleaning solution behind the counter. I sprayed, then began to wipe, feeling his gaze on my back.

Finally he said, “I make them only for Feydin. Eclairs too, and fruit tarts. Cinnamon rolls are easy.”

Incredulously, I turned, the lemon-scented rag dangling from my hand. “You can make all that? Really?” I gestured to the whiteboard with three types of bread written on it. “And you only sell sourdough and rye?”

“And croissants,” he pointed out, his expression and tone surprisingly neutral.

“That’s just bread!” I threw up my hands. “You could be making and selling all these delicious treats!”

He shrugged, then went back to putting away his ingredients. “I like bread.”

“Yeah, but…” Frustrated, I turned back to my cleaning, and maybe I scrubbed the counter a little harder than necessary. “I like tea, but look where it got me. ”

“What?” he grunted.

I didn’t look up as I mumbled bitterly, “If I’d had all these amazing goodies to sell at my tea shop, I could’ve enticed more customers. They would’ve come to my shop and sat at my tables and had nice conversations and enjoyed delicious bearclaws and eclairs and cinnamon tarts.”

“Fruit tarts,” he corrected unhelpfully behind me.

For some reason, his calmness only made me more irritable. My elbow pumping, I finished the counter and moved to the shelf beneath it, shifting stuff out of the way as I cleaned the aluminum.

“I had the opportunity to create a cozy community space, you know? That was my goal, at least. Harmony Tea Shop —not just for Harmony Glen, but for creating harmony. My mom used to talk about how everything was in harmony with the world around it, and how important that harmony was…” My motions slowed. “She loved tea. And eclairs.”

Behind me, Dorvak grunted. “She’s dead.”

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded slightly. “Yeah. She’s dead. Eight years now.” I could still hear her voice in my head. “I started the tea shop in her honor, and I guess I’m glad she wasn’t here to see me fail.”

A pause, then he said, “No, you’re not.”

My huff of laughter wasn’t particularly happy. “You’re right. I would gladly fail again and again if it meant she was here to hug me and tell me she loves me.” I blew out a breath and began to scrub again. “It’s just so humiliating to fail. My father is going to gloat. ”

That last part just slipped out, and I cringed as I straightened, hoping Dorvak wouldn’t ask me about Baba . Like a tongue accidentally prodding a sore tooth, I’d learned to stay away from those thoughts.

Even if they were the cause of my angry tears earlier.

I moved on to wiping down the empty display cases along the counter. To my surprise, I didn’t feel like crying any longer, even with my maudlin thoughts about my mother. Maybe the sugar had helped.

Or maybe it’s because you’re finally having a conversation with the hottest orc you know.

Okay, okay, Dorvak was—as far as I knew—the only orc in Harmony Glen. Or at least, the only one I’d seen. There were rumors of another orc who lived in the woods, or maybe more…but I’d never seen another orc besides Dorvak.

Not that I wanted to.

I remember when the monsters had moved in, and my father had been spitting mad, ranting about property values and his business partners not wanting to visit any longer. But me? I’d been fascinated by the different bodies and people who now moved around our small town.

And none had fascinated me as much as Dorvak—and Dorvak’s body, I’ll be honest…

He was just so freaking hot , okay? Maybe I had a thing for big guys.

Maybe I just wanted to feel tiny, I dunno.

But I’ll be honest; more than a few of my fantasies had involved watching him knead dough with those gorgeous hands and forearms .

He was maybe the reason I’d rented the space next to the bakery—more expensive real estate than a tea shop needed, frankly. Just the chance to see him each day had been worth the cost of the rent hike.

I sighed, remembering the Closed Indefinitely sign. Or maybe not.

“If you had my pastries to sell at your store, you wouldn’t have to close?” His comment came out of the blue. “I could make them for you.”

What a sweet offer. I sent him a sad smile over my shoulder, and realized he’d paused and was watching me clean.

“Thanks, Dorvak. Unfortunately, it’s too late.

I’ve already let the owner know I’m closing down.

I’ll have to find someone to buy all my equipment and furniture—don’t suppose you want a bunch of patio tables?

” I grimaced, remembering their cost. “And since the apartment above is connected, I have to move my stuff out of there too.”

“When?” Dorvak barked, and yeah, that was definitely a bark.

Slowly, I turned, wringing the rag between my hands. “End of the week. I’m sure the owner will give me a little wiggle room though. I’m going to stay with my bestie for a bit. Maggie has the space for me, but I’ll need to move my stuff into storage.”

Dorvak was studying me. Not angrily, just…contemplatively? Maybe? Like he was thinking Big Thoughts and working through them.

“My pastries might have saved your shop?” he finally said .

I sighed and hung out the rag to dry, then moved the cleaning spray back beneath the counter.

“Almost certainly. That’s what I was trying to build!

” In frustration, I threw up my hands. “I wanted to bring people together, you know? I wanted them to linger, to talk, to smile, to solve problems. I make really fabulous tea, Dorvak—I’ll have to make you some to say thank you for the pastries.

I just…” I sighed. “I wish the tea had been enough. I needed something more to keep people coming back, I guess.”

By this time, I’d walked myself to the front door, ready to go back and begin packing up. Face my failure. But Dorvak had followed me, that little cardboard box in his hand.

When I pulled open the door, he thrust the box toward me. “Your sugar.”

With a sad smile, I reached for it. I don’t know if we both shifted wrong or something, but my hand closed over his, and for a moment, I froze.

His fingers were large and callused, but impeccably clean.

Beneath mine, they felt huge, and I had to tamp down on a shiver when I considered how they’d feel , gliding over my skin…

Dorvak’s nostrils flared, and I wondered if he could tell what I was thinking.

“Be well, Laney,” he murmured with a strange look in his dark eyes, one I couldn’t identify.

I nodded, pulling the pastries to me, severing the connection we’d shared for a moment. “Be well, Dorvak,” I whispered, before yanking open the door and hustling back to my own shop. My own failure.

But I felt as if I’d been hugged, and that was… lovely .