Page 13 of Charming the Orc's Mate

TORAIN

“Take your pick.” I nodded between the neon pizza slice glowing in Lust for Crust’s window and the Tilted Anvil’s tasteful sidewalk canopy down the block. “Casual or fancy, up to you.”

Carissa’s eyes darted between the options, an adorable crease appearing between her brows as she weighed pros and cons. “Pizza sounds good, actually.”

I sucked in a dramatic breath and shook my head. “You were supposed to pick the other one. Now the bribe’s wasted.”

“Bribe?” One perfect eyebrow arched as she reached into her bag. “I didn’t know this place ran on bribes.”

She pulled out a leather-bound book. My special order from Mags, had to be. She held it aloft, eyeing it from every angle.

“I wonder how much this would fetch on the open bribe market.” A wicked grin played at the corners of her mouth. “Looks valuable.”

My heart stuttered. Not at her teasing threat—at how the setting sun caught her hair, loosened from its severe bun after a long day. At how her eyes sparkled with mischief instead of stress. At how perfectly she fit into this moment, this street, my life.

She extended the book, but didn’t let go when I grasped it. Our fingers brushed, sending sparks racing up my arm. “Where would you go?” she asked softly. “If it was just you?”

“One Hop Stop,” I admitted. It wasn’t fancy, but it was home.

But she brightened. “Perfect. Let’s go there.”

“You sure?” I hesitated, remembering Miranda’s advice about taking things at human speed. “There’s not much of a food menu.”

Carissa’s cheeks flushed pink. “I, uh, may have stress-baked an entire pan of brownies earlier. Dinner’s a lost cause anyway.”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “Lead the way then, little baker.”

One Hop Stop welcomed us with its usual Friday night bustle. The exposed brick walls soaked up just enough sound to make conversation possible, while strings of bulbs cast warm pools of light between dark wooden beams. My home away from home.

Vanin caught my eye from behind the bar and nodded. He moved with the efficient grace of someone who’d memorized every inch of their domain. A scowl deepened the lines around his tusks as he glanced toward a corner booth where Molly held court with a gaggle of college-aged women.

Vanin glowered at Molly’s table for another heartbeat before turning his attention to us. “Welcome back to civilization,” he told me flatly then asked Carissa, “What can I get you?”

“First, my thanks for saving my event last night. The paint-and-sippers are apparently accustomed to drinking their body weight in wine,” she said smoothly. “Second, I heard there was a special dark ale available?”

Surprise bubbled up at her request. She’d remembered. One half-formed invitation she cut off at the knees, but she remembered. I’d heard the shifters talk about their inner beasties preening over their mate’s attention, and I fullyunderstood the sensation. Every cell in my body seemed to dance with pride at taking up space in her head.

Vanin’s tusked grin held a hint of warmth. “Consider it down payment on getting back to even terms. Mags did good business before...” He shrugged. “Well, before.”

I tensed, ready to change the subject, but Carissa just nodded. “I’ve been finding invoices. Looks like she burned a lot of bridges.”

“Not all fires stay lit.” Vanin set two perfectly poured pints in front of us. “Especially in a town this size.”

I gave Vanin a grateful nod and guided Carissa toward my usual corner. She slid into the booth and I caught a hint of cinnamon as she moved past. My fingers itched to touch her, to pull her close and breathe in that scent until it filled my lungs. But I kept my distance as I settled across from her.Her speed, I reminded myself.

“So.” I stretched my arm along the booth’s back. “Stress baking?”

Her cheeks flushed again. “It’s a bad habit. Mags taught me. Said there was no problem a good batch of cookies couldn’t solve.” She took a sip of her drink, eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, this is good.”

“My brother knows his stuff.” I watched her lips press against the glass, remembering how they’d felt against mine. How they’d taste now, sweet with spices...

I cleared my throat. “You were close with your aunt?”

Carissa’s fingers traced the rim of her glass. “Not really. We saw each other at holidays, exchanged birthday cards. But that summer...” She shrugged. “Mom was a mess, Dad was… gone, and Mags was my lifeline.”

The loneliness in her voice made my chest ache. I curled my fingers around my glass to keep from reaching for her. Even at our worst, Osen and I had each other. Who did Carissa have?

“Mags never promised anything she couldn’t deliver,” she continued. “If she said she’d teach me to bake, we baked. If she couldn’t watch me, she said so. No excuses, no pretty lies about ‘next time.’“ She took another sip of ale. “I guess that’s why the store being such a mess hit so hard. It felt like she’d stopped showing up, too.”

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