Page 31 of Bidding on the Orc Outcast

Fuck. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, but his heart ached at the wariness in her eyes.

“I thought you might be here. I came to discuss a business proposition,” she said briskly as she entered, but her fingers twisted the strap of her purse. “About the candles. My window display needs something, and I thought-”

“I made some.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the tips of his ears burned. “Samples. To test.”

Her eyes widened. “You did?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice. He’d spent the past two nights experimenting with different combinations, telling himself it was just to keep busy. Not because he’d wanted an excuse to see her again.

“Wait here.”

He ducked into his workshop and grabbed the box of candles he’d made. Each one carefully crafted with different scent combinations - lavender and cedar, wild mint and sage, winter pine and citrus.

When he returned, she was examining a hanging basket of trailing vines, sunlight catching the gold in her hair. Now that he knew how soft it felt, he wanted to bury his fingers in it even more.

Instead he set the box on the potting bench. “These are the samples. They’re just rough attempts.”

She peered into the box, her face lighting up.

“They’re beautiful.” She lifted one to her nose and inhaled. “And they smell amazing.”

Despite his determination to maintain his distance, her praise filled him with pride. She picked up another candle, turning it in her hands.

“The containers - are these old jars and tins?”

“Found objects. Things people discarded.” Like him.

“Perfect for a thrift shop. We could price them reasonably. Split the profits.”

Business. Focus on business. He could handle that. Maybe.

“That sounds fair.”

“Great. I’ll take them to the shop now.”

She reached for the box, but his hand shot out, covering hers. Her skin felt like silk beneath his rough palm, and he quickly yanked his hand back. “I’ll carry them.”

“You don’t have to-”

“They’re heavy.” He picked up the box, careful not to crush the delicate glass containers. The thought of going into town made his stomach clench, but he couldn’t let her struggle with the weight.

She bounced on her toes. “Perfect. I can arrange them right away.”

The path into town felt like a gauntlet. His shoulders tensed with each step closer to Main Street, but her presence beside him created a buffer against his rising anxiety. She chattered about possible display arrangements, her enthusiasm infectious.

“The vintage tins will look amazing with my collection of old cameras,” she said. “And those blue glass ones would be perfect near the window to catch the light.”

He glanced down at her animated face. A stray curl had escaped her scarf, dancing in the winter breeze. His fingers twitched with the urge to tuck it back.

“What do you think?” She looked up at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. “You’d know better than me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. These are your creations.” She gestured at the box. “You should have a say in how they’re displayed.”

The warmth in her voice made his chest tight. No one had valued his opinion in… he couldn’t remember how long.

He carried the box into the shop and carefully set it on the counter. The shop’s warmth wrapped around him, a delightful combination of vivid colors and faded fabrics, objects ranging from precious to merely charming. Her sweet scent filled the place, just as it had filled her apartment before their disastrous date.

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