Page 91 of My Orc Has Big Tusks
The tea was already hot and my favorite kind. He’d had it waiting.
Sofia made an affronted sound.
“Good morning,” he said. “You’re well rested?” His expression said he already knew otherwise.
“I’m alright,” I said, which wasn’t true and he knew it, so I didn’t know why I said it except habit.
He waited.
“I’m not sleeping well.” I drank the tea standing in the entryway with my coat still on. “She asks questions at dinner and then again before bed. Different questions, same subject. Whether I’ve thought this through. Whether I’ve researched the financial sustainability. Whether I’ve considered what happens if this falls apart.”
Sofia had migrated from Brovish’s forearm to his shoulder and was watching me with round, judgmental eyes.
“Last night she asked if I’d looked into positions in Portland before jumping into this.”
“You’re not going to Portland,” he said.
“No.”
“What does she need to understand that?”
“I genuinely don’t know.” I finished the tea in one long swallow that burned a little going down. “She doesn’t seem satisfied with my answers. I can’t tell if she wants to fix something or if she’s still working out why she’s here.”
He took the empty mug from me and set it on the counter.
“You should stay in my cottage while she’s visiting.”
I gaped up at him.
“You need somewhere to sleep. A place to come home to that doesn’t have her waiting. You can walk to work.”
“That’s your home.”
“There’s a sofa in the staff room. I’ve slept on it before.”
“Brovish. You’re over seven feet tall.”
“The sofa is—” He paused, frowning. “Functional.”
“Functional for what? Torture?”
His ears darkened. “I’ve slept in worse places.”
“Name one.”
“The supply shed during a thunderstorm last month.”
“That doesn’t count. I bet you were chasing down mossnibbles.”
“I still slept there.”
“For how long?”
“Twenty minutes. It was a very good nap.”
“Have you measured the sofa?”
His jaw worked, his tusks catching on his upper lip. The decision had already been made, whether I agreed or not.
