Page 13 of First Comes Orc, Second Comes Baby
“Did I drift off again?” Her meek voice usually worked on people.
Brahnt flashed her another one of those slow, amused smiles. It was like a signature. “You did.”
“Sorry. I have an attention span issue. Well, not really. It’s more like there are so many thoughts in my mind fighting for attention and inevitably one has to take over for a few minutes.”
“You probably spend most of your focus pennies in your career.”
She stared at him. “You’re the only one whose every instantly understood that.”
“Hmm.” Brahnt washed his hands and rolled up his sleeves. “I’m very focused in certain aspects of my life as well. What you haven’t learned is how to delegate your thoughts. I can help you with that over the next several months.”
What she hadn’t learned was how to win the lottery. She suspected his idea of delegation was “hand the task off to staff”.
Charlotte slid onto a stool. “It's an Orc thing, I think.”
“What is?” He grabbed cutting boards and other implements of torture. Charlotte did not cook.
Charlotte did, however, eat.
“Dropping all these hints about long term and permanency.” She tried to make it sound flirty, but the words came out flat.
“Ah. Well, I didn't go to the matchmaker because I wanted to waste time.” Brahnt began chopping. “When I see what I want, I make it mine.”
And, the temperature in the room skyrocketed another hundred degrees. Charlotte gave him a weak smile. “Can I help you with anything? I don't want to sit here and profit off all your hard work.”
“No, no, let me take care of you.” If there was a purr in Brahnt’s voice, it probably wasn't intentional. At all.
Charlotte wished she could believe that.
She'd been seduced before, but not by an expert of this caliber. It was just enough; a brush of heat, of aggression, then Brahnt flitted away again, drawing back and giving Charlotte time to gather herself—before he did it again.
It kept Charlotte unbalanced, and balance was kind of her job.
Still, she steered the conversation back to neutral, first date questions. “When did you learn to cook? Who taught you?”
“I guess the clichéd rich kid thing would be to say my nanny,” Brahnt replied, “but my father was a Michelin starred chef when he met my mother.”
“Are your parents an Orc/Human pair?”
“No. We’ll be the first in this branch of the family. What about yours?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Nope. There are pairs in my mom's family tree though, so I'm probably a throwback.”
“That's common.”
“So, your father taught you to cook. Is he still a working chef?”
“He is, though he took several years off after Mother weaned me to be a stay-at-home dad. My dad is a traditionalist.”
Charlotte cleared her throat. “Do you want children. . .right away?”
“That decision is the female’s. The female’s circle consults with a new wife regarding family and career planning.”
Vegetables hit a wok—at least that's what Charlotte thought it was. It was a pan, she knew that much. Skillet? Whatever.
“Shouldn’t that decision be between the husband and wife?”
He shrugged. “It’s the way we do things. It’s better that way. Orc males are naturally aggressive and possessive—we need the checks and balances a group of equally bloodthirsty females armed with battle axes provides.”
