Page 14 of The Minotaur’s Nanny Bride (Minotaur Daddies #2)

14

DEX

I stand with Ellis tucked into the carrier strapped across my chest, watching Maya work. She's worn a dress today instead of her usual practical tunic and trousers—some flowing thing in a deep green that makes her eyes look more silver than gray. It's not fancy by wealthy merchant standards—no embroidery or excessive layers—but it suits her. Simple, elegant, with a fitted bodice that accentuates the curve of her waist before flowing outward.

Too damn well, if I'm honest with myself. I've been trying not to stare all morning.

"You're hovering again," Maya says without looking up from the crate of dried herbs she's sorting through. Her fingers move with practiced precision, separating rirzed from its near-identical poisonous cousin, numiscu. To my untrained eye, they're the same bright blue petals, but Maya never hesitates.

"I'm not hovering. I'm strategically positioned to catch Ellis if he decides to make a break for it." I adjust the carrier where my nephew dozes against my chest, his tiny hands occasionally twitching in sleep.

Maya snorts. "He's two months old. The only thing he's breaking is your sleep schedule."

I grin despite myself. "Fair point."

Her shop smells like a hundred different plants at once—sharp, sweet, earthy, medicinal. Bundles of herbs hang from the rafters, drying in the warm air. Tables covered with mortars, pestles, and measuring scales line the walls. It's organized chaos, everything exactly where Maya needs it to be.

I've spent the morning helping her fill orders while Ellis naps. It feels good to be useful, to do something with my hands besides bouncing a crying infant. I may not know zabilla from bluefrost, but I can lift crates and count measurements and keep the fires at the right temperature. Simple tasks that don't require me to make life-altering decisions.

"That sack of cryots needs to go in the storeroom," Maya says, nodding toward a burlap sack near the door. "Then could you bring me the fortisia from the drying rack? The dark green leaves, not the light ones."

"I know what fortisia looks like," I say, though we both know I learned the difference yesterday after nearly ruining a batch of fever remedy.

I heft the sack onto my shoulder, careful not to jostle Ellis. His gold eyes—so like mine—flutter open briefly before closing again. The weight of him against my chest still feels foreign, terrifying. This tiny life that depends on me completely. On us, really, since I'd be lost without Maya's help.

The bell above the door jingles as I'm returning from the storeroom. A minotaur strides in—broad-shouldered with steel-gray fur and a confident gait. His horn rings are simple iron, marking him as zotkak—merchant class, just like me. But there's something in his manner that suggests he thinks otherwise.

"Maya!" His voice booms through the shop. "You're looking particularly lovely today."

Maya doesn't pause in her sorting. "Hello, Torven. Your usual order?"

"Plus some extra goligan oil, if you have it. The wife uses it for her joints." He leans against the counter, watching Maya work. "Though I must say, if I'd known you'd be wearing that dress, I'd have brought you flowers."

I roll my eyes, moving to the drying rack to retrieve the fortisia Maya requested. Torven comes in every week, apparently. Always with the same heavy-handed compliments. Always met with the same polite deflection.

"The goligan will be ready by tomorrow," Maya says, ignoring the flowers comment entirely. She moves to another crate, pulling out bundles of dried herbs with practiced efficiency. "I'll have everything else ready in a moment."

I gather the fortisia, eyeing Torven over my shoulder. He doesn't acknowledge me—common enough when dealing with other minotaur merchants. We're always sizing each other up, deciding if the other is competition or potential alliance material. Apparently, I don't rate either category in his assessment.

"I don't know how you're still single, Maya," Torven says, leaning in with a grin that shows too many teeth. "Beautiful and smart? That's a rare combination."

My hand tightens around the bundle of fortisia, crushing the brittle leaves. Maya's told me how rare it is for humans and minotaur to form meaningful connections in Karona, despite the city's relative tolerance. How healers like her who treat minotaur patients are often ostracized by their own kind. Torven's words make it sound like she's a curiosity, a novelty. Not a person.

Maya laughs—casual, light—but it burns in my ears because I know that laugh. It's her professional laugh, the one that doesn't reach her eyes. The one she uses when she's tolerating something for the sake of business.

"I'm too busy for romance," she says, scooping dried herbs into a small pouch. "Between the shop and the farm, I barely have time to sleep."

Torven doesn't stop there. "If you ever need a night off from all this work, I'd be more than happy to take you somewhere nice."

Something hot and tight coils in my chest. I don't even realize I've stepped forward until I see Torven's eyes flicker up to me, cautious. Suddenly aware there's another minotaur in the room—one with significantly broader shoulders and a look that could curdle milk.

"She said she's busy," I say flatly, my voice a low rumble. Ellis stirs against my chest, sensing the tension in my body.

Torven raises his hands in mock surrender, chuckling as he backs off. "No offense meant, friend. Didn't realize the lady was spoken for."

The bundle of fortisia in my hand is completely crushed now, the pungent scent filling the air around us. Maya's eyes dart between us, a slight furrow appearing between her brows.

"Dex is helping me with the shop while I help with his nephew," she explains, though she doesn't owe him any explanation. "And I'm not 'spoken for.' I'm just busy, as I said."

I set the crushed fortisia down on a nearby table, flexing my fingers to release the tension. Maya shoots me a look that clearly says we'll discuss this later. Great. Something else to add to my growing list of failures.

The rest of the afternoon passes in strained silence after Torven leaves. Maya keeps herself busy with customers, and I occupy myself with restocking shelves and minding Ellis when he wakes, hungry and disgruntled. By the time the sunset paints Karona's white stone buildings in shades of amber and gold, my neck feels tight with unspoken words.

"I think that's everything," Maya says, tying a string around a bundle of dried zabilla. "Unless you want to crush more of my inventory with your bare hands."

I grunt, adjusting Ellis in his carrier. "The fortisia was already dry. It would have been ground up anyway."

"Mm-hmm." She doesn't sound convinced.

We lock up the shop and head toward my house, walking the cobblestone streets of the merchant district. The evening air carries the scent of salt from the harbor, mingling with spices and smoke from cooking fires. Craftsmen and merchants are closing their shops, nodding respectfully as we pass—to Maya as much as to me, I notice. She's earned her place here despite being human in a predominantly minotaur city.

Ellis babbles against my chest, tiny fingers reaching for one of my horn rings. I gently redirect his hand, stroking his tawny fur. He's finally putting on weight, looking less fragile than he did two weeks ago.

"He's going to be reaching for everything soon," Maya observes, her voice softer now. "You'll need to move anything breakable to higher shelves."

"I'll add it to the list," I sigh. "Right after 'figure out how to be a father overnight' and 'stop terrifying potential customers.'"

Maya's quiet for a moment, then I catch her looking at me from the corner of her eye, a smirk playing at her lips. The streetlamps are being lit by city workers, casting her in a warm glow that makes the silver of her hair shine like actual precious metal.

"You were jealous today," she says, the declaration landing between us like a challenge.

I exhale sharply as we turn onto my street, the familiar shape of my house coming into view. Two stories of white stone with a red-tiled roof and arched windows—modest by Vakkak standards but spacious for a merchant. A house that suddenly feels too empty and too full at the same time.

"I wasn't." The denial comes automatically, my ears flicking back in irritation.

She tilts her head, studying me like I'm one of her herbs that isn't behaving as expected. "You growled at him, Dex."

My jaw works. "He was annoying."

The words sound pathetic even to my ears. I've faced down shipping rivals and negotiated with ornery trading partners from every corner of Milthar without flinching. Yet here I am, fumbling for words like a schoolboy caught passing notes.

Maya steps closer as we reach my front door. Close enough that I can smell the faint scent of herbs on her skin—rirzed and zabilla and something else uniquely her. Her gray eyes seem to see right through me, past the bluster and bravado.

"If you want something, Dex, you have to say it. No one can read your mind." Her voice is teasing, but there's something beneath it—something challenging. An invitation, maybe. Or a dare.

I don't move, don't look away. My jaw clenches, hands flexing at my sides. I want to deny it. I should deny it. Maya's made it clear from the beginning that this arrangement is temporary. She's helping with Ellis until I find a permanent solution. Getting attached would be foolish for both of us.

But standing here in the fading light, with Ellis warm against my chest and Maya looking at me like I'm a puzzle she's determined to solve, I can't bring myself to lie again.

I stand there, stuck to the spot as Maya turns away toward the door. Ellis picks that moment to squirm against my chest, making soft cooing noises that break the tense silence between us.

"We should get him inside," Maya says, her voice practical again. "He needs to be fed and put down for the night."

I exhale slowly, fishing for my keys in my pocket. The weight of what just happened—of what almost happened—settles over us like an invisible fog. My fingers feel clumsy with the lock, the simple task suddenly requiring all my concentration.

"Right," I manage, finally pushing the door open. "After you."

Maya steps inside, moving through the entryway with the familiar comfort of someone who belongs here. Her green dress sways with each step, the fabric catching the lamplight as she moves to light the lamps in the main room. It's a dance we've perfected over the past weeks—she handles the lamps while I close up behind us, securing the locks and checking the windows.

I follow her inside, watching as she moves efficiently around the space. The house feels different with her in it. Before she came, it was just walls and furniture—a place to sleep and eat between business trips. Now there are herbs drying by the kitchen window, soft blankets draped over chairs, and small touches that make it feel like a home rather than just a house.

Ellis fusses against me, his tiny hands gripping at my shirt. I gently untangle him from the carrier, cradling him in my arms. His gold eyes—so like mine, so like Iris'—blink up at me sleepily.

"Hey there, little one," I murmur, my voice automatically softening the way it always does for him. "Ready for bed, are you?"

Maya glances over, a small smile touching her lips as she watches us. There's something in her eyes I can't quite decipher—something soft and maybe a bit sad.

"I'll warm his milk," she says, heading for the kitchen.

I nod, unable to articulate the gratitude I feel for her simple competence, for the way she's stepped into our lives and made everything function when I was drowning. Instead, I focus on Ellis, rubbing my thumb gently over his soft fur, marveling at how someone so small can have such a powerful grip on my heart.

The tension between Maya and me still crackles in the air, unspoken and electric. I want to break it. I want to cross the room and pull her to me. I want to thank her properly for everything she's done. I want to see if her lips are as soft as they look. I want to know if she tastes like the herbs she works with all day.

I want Maya in ways that terrify me, because wanting means risking. Risking rejection. Risking her walking away. Risking Ellis losing yet another person he's come to depend on.

When did I start thinking of us as a family? When did Maya become essential rather than convenient?

She returns from the kitchen, bottle in hand. "Here we go," she says, reaching for Ellis.

Our fingers brush as I pass him to her, and the contact sends heat racing up my arm. Her eyes flick to mine for the briefest moment before focusing on Ellis, who eagerly reaches for the bottle. I watch as she settles into the rocking chair by the window, cradling him with practiced ease.

"He's getting stronger," she observes, her voice soft. "Look at how he grips the bottle now."

I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest. "That's all your doing. He was wasting away before you came."

"Don't sell yourself short, Dex. You're learning fast." Maya's fingers gently brush Ellis's cheek as he drinks. "Most people would have panicked with a newborn dropped in their lap."

"I did panic. That's why you're here."

A small smile curves her lips. "True enough."

I push away from the doorframe, moving to stand beside her chair. The scent of her fills my senses—herbal and clean, with something underneath that's just Maya. I want to bury my face in her neck and breathe her in. I want to run my hands through that silver-blonde hair and see if it's as soft as it looks.

I want Maya desperately, completely, in a way I've never wanted anyone before. And I have no idea how to stop it. But I can't lose her either.

I don't know what to do.