I moved to rural Maine for a fresh start. A quiet office job at an orc-run creature rescue league. Maybe adopt a mossnibble. Definitely not develop feelings for my new boss.
Then I met Traig.
He’s seven feet of green muscle, midnight eyes, and the most organized orc I’ve ever seen. He wrote a sixty-five-page orientation manual before I started. He puts labels on everything. He brought me twenty-four cookies from the local bakery because he didn’t know which kind I liked.
And when I kissed him, he looked at me like I’d reorganized his entire world.
Now we’re co-leading a school partnership that could put the Creature Rescue League on the map. Meanwhile, two rescued creatures everyone assumes can be adopted separately have me questioning everything. I can see the bond between them. Traig sees reports and data that say they’re independent.
The adoption application on his desk is perfect. Approving it could break two hearts. And maybe ours, too.
Because some bonds can’t be measured. Sometimes, love means choosing to see what’s been there all along.