Page 19 of My Orc Has Big Tusks
“Yes.”
“And you write about all of them.”
He nodded.
I closed the notebook and held it out. Our fingers connected when he took it back, and I felt that brief touch all the way up my arm.
“Why?” I asked.
His large hands curled around the notebook. “Because we all want to be seen.”
My breath caught with nowhere to go.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “We do.”
I unlatched the crate and ran one finger along Cooper’s back. His feathers chimed softly, reminding me of distant bells.
“He’s doing well,” I said.
“You do good work.”
“Wedo good work.”
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “Yes.”
After I made sure the wrap would hold and resecured the crate, covering it with the cloth, we walked back to the entryway together, Sofia purring as she bobbed against my neck.
The other orcs stood around the desk, talking.
The words came out before I could stop them. “I’ll take the job.”
Drogar let out a whoop loud enough to make Sofia peep in alarm.
Krem beamed. “Perfect. I’ll add you to the schedule.”
Traig, sitting at the front desk, started tapping something into his tablet. Probably HR paperwork. Possibly a supply order. I had no idea, but he looked satisfied.
Greth, standing in the doorway, smiled, though it was more of a shift at the corners of his mouth.
Brovish didn’t say anything but the tension in his shoulders eased, his eyes went soft, and his expression opened up in a way that made my breath catch.
I’d just upended my entire life with one sentence, and for some reason, I wasn’t scared.
Sofia sparked against my neck, a little flare of heat that felt like approval.
“When can you officially start?” Traig asked, not looking up from his tablet.
“I need some time to wrap things up,” I said. “A week or more. I co-manage a clinic, though I suspect my partner will be eager to take over all my tasks.”
“A week?” Brovish asked.
“Nine days,” I said.
The number popped out of my mouth, but it felt right. I needed time to notify my patients and coordinate with the other clinic doctor about the final details related to the sale of my share of the clinic. And speak to the part-time vet to make sure she truly did want to go full-time.
But in my heart, I was already halfway out the door. I’d reviewed the paperwork. I just needed to sign it.
Was nine days enough time to stop being the veterinarian who’d taken over her father’s practice and start being someone new?
