Page 3 of Bread with the Orc (Harmony Glen #6)

Chapter Three

Laney

I’m not saying that I was in a better mood the next day, and I was far from cheerful. After all, I was busy packing up my dream into a million boxes I couldn’t hope to store, and the upbeat music blasting from our local Monster Tunes radio station wasn’t making that any easier.

It’s just…I’d cried all my tears. And despite my mother’s advice, I was programed to look on the positive side. Granted, at this moment, I couldn’t exactly see the positive side, but I was confident that one would eventually show up, and I wanted to be ready to see it when it did.

Also, I had the memory of yesterday—Dorvak’s touch—to distract me. Maybe I’d tossed and turned a bit last night in my almost-empty apartment, knowing he was right next door . I’ll admit that I took my time eating the last of that bearclaw, enjoying every single bite .

Le sigh .

That male sure could bake. His pastries were almost as good-looking as he was. I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told him that he should sell them.

I finished up with the loose teas—sealing them all and double-bagging them before I labeled the boxes—and moved on to the next task.

“Oh ,” I whispered.

Apparently not all my tears were gone.

With reverence, I picked up one of the cups of my mother’s tea set.

It had belonged to her mother, and it had been made by the best artisans in China.

I cupped it in my palms and stared down at the empty depths, remembering how she told me stories of her ancestors and their bravery in coming to a new world.

Baba might now scoff at those fairy tales, but I could remember the indulging smiles he’d given me when I’d been enthralled by Ama ’s stories. He had been kinder, more understanding then, before we’d lost her and each retreated in our own pain.

I twisted the porcelain gently, tracing the gold lotus design carefully with my fingertip. Once, we’d been a family. Once, we’d shared stories…and tea. Since each story was accompanied by jasmine or oolong or chrysanthemum, it was no wonder I had such a visceral connection to tea.

One day, I would tell my own children those stories. Although I hadn’t seriously dated anyone in a while, I’d always wanted kids, and had a long mental list of the skills and stories I wanted to share with them…including the Art of Tea.

Many visitors to Harmony Glen expected the Harmony Tea Shop to serve typical English tea, and I could do that, no problem. Sure, the lack of pastries and tea sandwiches greatly cut down on their bookings, but the antiques shops kept me well-supplied with dainty teacups and saucers.

But the real purpose of the shop had always been to highlight my ancestors’ history and our connection to tea.

Tea shops in China weren’t just places to get a drink; they were community gathering spots, places where business was conducted, where families reconnected. That’s what I’d wanted to build here.

“I’m sorry, Ama ,” I whispered at the empty tea cup. “I’m sorry I failed to keep your stories, your memories alive.”

There was no answer, because… duh . I wasn’t an idiot, but it made me feel better to talk to her sometimes. I took a deep breath, then shifted to place the cup down?—

And darn near dropped it when the sudden rapping at the front door startled me. I wanted to snap, “We’re closed! Can’t you see the sign?” but that would serve no purpose. Instead, I carefully set down the cup and moved around the table.

My little shop was dark and closed in, not like the bakery next door. Maybe that had been part of the problem. Either way, it meant I couldn’t see who was at the door until I pulled it open.

And froze.

Dorvak .

Look, I’m no doctor, but I’ve seen plenty of crime scene investigator dramas on T.V. I’m fairly certain your heart can’t just…stop, right? Not without killing you.

But I swear mine skipped a beat or three, and when it started again, it was going double time.

“Laney,” he said in that delicious rumble of his.

His voice seemed to reach down through my chest, straight to my lady bits, and stroke .

I’d always loved his voice, but today? Maybe it was because I’d touched myself last night in bed, feeling a little guilty for imagining his hands, his tongue…

but something had changed, and suddenly, I was one-hundred-percent focused on him .

“Laney?”

“Wha?” I shook myself. “Oh! Hi! Dorvak! How are you!” Oh shit, I was sounding like a desperate puppy, wasn’t I? “I mean, come in. Can I get you something? Tea? This is a tea shop. Or it was! I make tea,” I managed with a weak laugh, backing up to allow him in.

Way to go, Laney. Very smooth .

Dorvak had followed me solemnly, and now he glanced around the space, taking in my piles of boxes and the chairs I’d struggled to stack neatly over the last few days. “Tea would be acceptable,” he finally said with a nod. “I am here to help.”

“Help?” I blurted, freezing with my finger on the button for the electric kettle. “Help me?”

Holding my gaze, he lifted one of the chairs—easily, as if it weighed nothing. “Yes. I will help you. ”

“ Oh! Oh, yes please, I really do need some help with the furniture! You’re way stronger than I am!”

Dorvak glanced down at the chair in his hand, then back to me, a hint of confusion in his dark eyes. Then he nodded. “Where do you want them?”

Ahhh… “Actually, I guess you can’t do that right now. I don’t have anywhere to store them yet.”

Another nod. “Then I will help you pack.”

It was…surprisingly sweet. I blew out a breath and gestured him behind the counter. “Thanks. It’ll be good to have a distraction.”

He followed and stood beside me so we both faced the room. My mother’s tea set was bracketed by his strong hands, looking as fragile and delicate as I felt around him. “I distract you?” he finally rumbled.

And me, without thinking, laughed, “Uh, heck yes!” Without thinking, my hand fell on his forearm—which, to be fair, was laid out like a buffet for me to admire, okay? I’m a sucker for strong forearms, and Dorvak had the strongest. “You’re delightfully distracting.”

To my surprise, instead of shaking me off, he seemed to preen. “Delightfully,” he repeated, then peered down at the tea set. “Where do you want this?”

I showed him how to carefully pack each cup and nestle them into the ancient rosewood chest Ama had cherished.

As we did, I told him about my mother, her history, and my memories.

She was my role model in so many ways, and one day, I hoped to share her wisdom with my children…

although I found myself blushing when confessed that, hoping he wouldn’t think me odd fo r planning for children who weren’t even a possibility yet.

But Dorvak merely studied me as I admitted this, and I thought I saw something green flash in the depths of his dark eyes.

The water boiled, and I poured us both a cup—disposable cups, so I wouldn’t have to wash them—of Earl Grey tea.

As we waited for them to steep, I couldn’t help but admire how meticulous he was, how much care he paid to each piece, and it relieved me.

Although he didn’t speak, he did seem to be paying attention to my stories. To me …maybe more than I warranted.

He was focused on the last cup, and I’d moved on to the tea pot I only used for decoration, when he finally broke his silence.

“You honor your mother.”

“Of course.” I sent him a rueful smile. “I miss her, and this is how I can remember her.”

“I think you will be a good mother yourself.”

The statement was so startling, especially considering what I’d been thinking about before he came in, I reared back, eyes wide. How could he have guessed that? “Wha—why would you say that?”

Dorvak didn’t seem offended by my response. Instead, he watched me through half-lidded eyes, as if he were trying to figure me out. Then he shrugged.

“Your family’s history means a lot to you. You would pass that down to your children. ”

It hadn’t been a question, but I nodded. “Of course I would— will . I’ve always wanted kids, I just haven’t gotten around to having them.” Or finding a guy I wanted to have kids with. “How about you?”

His nostrils flared and his tongue darted out to flick against one of his tusks before he looked away. Was that a nervous gesture, or something else?

“I hadn’t considered kitlings until recently. What about your father?”

The change in topics—if that’s what it was—was so surprising, I fumbled the latch of the rosewood chest. “ Baba ? What about him?”

“You have spoken of your mother. Is your father also dead?”

My lips tugged into a rueful grimace as I bent back over my task. “My father…lives here in town. I grew up here, in one of the big houses on Lakeview. Baba always liked bringing his business associates there to brag about the view and impress them with his wealth.”

“He sounds delightful.”

The echo of my earlier description had me snorting a laugh, and I shut the chest lid a little harder than necessary. “He is very, very good at making money. He wanted me to be that way too—he paid for my college and my MBA—because he wants me to join his company.”

Dorvak crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And you don’t want that.”

I shrugged, unconsciously picking at a loose thread in my t-shirt’s hem. “I wanted to create something new…so mething I could be proud of, something to honor my mother’s memory.”

“The tea shop.” He glanced around. “And now you have to close it.”

“I failed,” I whispered, turning back to the steeping tea, fishing out the homemade tea bags quickly, the way Ama had taught me years before. “And my father will soon know it, if he doesn’t already.”

When I handed Dorvak his tea, he nodded his thanks. “And will that matter? If your father knows?”

“Of course. He told me I would fail without him, and now I have. It’ll be more of an excuse for me to move back home, to join him. Don’t drink it yet, it’s too hot?—”

Before I could get the words out, Dorvak was sipping the tea, and his brows went up. I winced, expecting him to bellow in pain. Instead, he pulled the cup away and glanced down at it in surprise.

“You’re right, this is good tea.”

Did I preen under his praise? Maybe. “I told you.”

“And now I believe you.”

When he met my gaze, there was a spark of green in those dark depths, a spark I hadn’t seen before. Without looking away, he placed the cup on the counter beside us.

Suddenly my throat went dry, and I wished I could sip my own tea. “It’s too hot,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

Dorvak shifted so he was facing me, and I couldn’t help noticing the way his t-shirt stretched across his muscular chest.

“I told you, I’m very strong.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “I can see that.”

He leaned closer, his hand sliding along the counter. “I can handle heat. And heavy things. And your father.”

I—what?

Look, I’m one-hundred-percent certain I was flustered because of his nearness, but what ? Dorvak’s arm shifted until his forearm was brushing my elbow, and he leaned closer, trapping me against the counter.

Instead of leaning away, I found myself swaying toward him, mesmerized by his strength and that spark of green.

“What does…” I swallowed. “Father…” I wasn’t making any sense, and I knew it.

Kiss me kiss me kiss me !

What would his tusks feel like? I was suddenly desperate to find out.

And who knows? Maybe I would’ve thrown myself at Dorvak if he’d given me two more seconds. But instead, his fist slammed into the counter, and he straightened, the noise and movement sudden and startling enough to make me squeak.

“I will store your furniture,” he announced.

I probably said something like, “Blarrrrghf?”

But he was nodding and stepping back. “You need everything moved from here, right? Because you have to close.”

My brain was scrambling to catch up. “I…the tea shop was a financial failure. My father would have told me not to invest in a community, but in a profit center. I’ve been losing money since I opened, and I just can’t keep it afloat any longer.”

“You sleep upstairs.”

The sudden change in topics, and the intent way he was staring at me, had me answering before I could wonder about his line of thought.

“Yeah. I hope I don’t make too much noise or anything.”

Those weird green sparks in his dark eyes flashed again and his nostrils flared. “I don’t mind. You said you’re losing the apartment too?”

Oh, yeah, now I understood. “I’m going to stay with my bestie until I can figure out what to do.” Maggie was the sweetest, and I could definitely put up with some chaos in her half-renovated house if it meant a free place to crash. “But that’s not for another few days.”

“Good.” With an abrupt nod, he backed away, scooping up the tea as he went. “I have a proposition for you.”

My eyes widened, and I followed. “Yes?”

Look, could you blame me—after that last line of questioning—if I was half-hoping he’d invite me to share his bed? But when he announced, “I have someplace for you to sell your tea,” I near choked in surprise.

“You—what? Where? ”

A little smugly, Dorvak sipped his Earl Grey. “My bakery. You said your tea shop would have been a success if you could sell my pastries, right? So move your tables and chairs into my space, and sell your tea there. I’ll make the pastries.”

“But…” I shook my head as I hurried out from behind the counter. “Dorvak, you don’t like to deal with customers.” I knew that much about him. “You really want to turn your bakery into a community hub?”

His expression now carefully blank, he focused on the liquid in his cup. “I will bake in the back. You will deal with the customers. You’re good at that. Your teas will turn the bakery into someplace where people want to linger.”

“And your pastries will keep them coming back each day,” I finished in an awed whisper. “Dorvak, are you serious? I mean, seriously serious? You’re offering me a chance at a job, a chance to sell my teas in your bakery?”

“No.” He took a deep breath and lifted his intense gaze to mine. “I’m offering to combine our businesses. It’ll be better for both of us, better for Harmony Glen. And you will not be a failure.”

How was I supposed to turn down such an amazing offer? “ Yes !” with an excited squeal, I threw myself at him. “I would love that, Dorvak!”

It wasn’t until he wrapped his free arm around me, lifting me off my feet and pulling me to him, that I realized how inappropriate that had been. We were going to be business partners, nothing more, and I’d thrown myself at him as if we were old, trusted friends.

And you know what? It felt amazing .