Page 44 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy
Orry examines the ring with deep suspicion. Throws it on the floor. Reaches for the lip gloss display again.
Of course.
"Want to help Mama organize?" I pull him onto my hip, position him where he can see the counter. "See these? We're going to make thempretty."
He watches me line up lipstick tubes by shade family. Rose to burgundy. Coral to crimson. His little hands hover, fingers twitching.
"Gentle," I murmur. Guide his hand to touch the cap of a rose-gold tube. "Just like this."
He pats it. Grins. That dimple flashes deep in his right cheek.
There.
I've been seeing it everywhere. On his face. In my mirror when I smile a certain way. And,stop.I redirect my brain before it wanders down paths I've barricaded for good reason.
Mrs. Kramer approaches with two foundations and a concealer. "These, please."
"Excellent choices." I settle Orry on the play mat behind the counter, hand him his favorite plush orc. Mr. Grunt gets a slobbery kiss before being flung across the mat.
Charming.
I ring up Mrs. Kramer. Wrap her purchases in tissue paper printed with tiny sparkles. She smiles at Orry on her way out.
"He's precious. Those eyes!"
"Thank you." I've heard variations on this theme forty times since opening the shop.Gorgeous eyes. What a smile. Is his father around?
That last one stings every time.
I crouch down to retrieve Mr. Grunt. Orry babbles something that might bemamaor might bemuffin.Hard to tell. Both are frequent requests.
The door chimes. I straighten, customer-smile ready.
Gunther Ridgeway stands in my doorway looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Hi." He adjusts his glasses. "I… sorry. Is this a bad time?"
Yes."Not at all. Come in."
He steps inside, hands shoved in his pockets. Glances around the shop with the careful assessment of someone cataloging exits.
"It's coming together." He nods toward the display wall. "The layout. Very efficient."
"Thanks." I move behind the counter, putting a barrier between us. Professional distance. Safe. "Did you need something? Financial papers? Lease stuff?"
"No. I just—" He stops. Swallows. "Colum mentioned you might want help moving the storage shelves. For better floor space."
I blink. "Colum mentioned."
"He's enthusiastic about tenant success."
That's one word for it.Colum's been dropping by twice a day with suggestions, encouragement, and thinly veiled attempts to orchestrate interactions between me and Gunther.
Subtlety is not his strong suit.
"I can handle the shelves." I keep my tone light. Friendly. Boundaried. "But I appreciate the offer."
Gunther nods. Doesn't leave. Just stands there, shoulders tense, staring at a point somewhere past my left ear.
