Page 48 of The Troll’s Summer Flame

Why would you want to read a book written by your dinner? Do you go out and ask the squirrels for their thoughts? Fool. Trying to be a human, but never will be.

I blink to push my mother’s harsh, mocking voice away. “I’ll take the three days off.”

Sunderland looks shocked. “That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.”

“I’ll still investigate. I’ll go to the scene later today, and I’ll talk to people who might have seen anything suspicious. Andrea might be able to help. She probably knows the teachers and caretaker at the school better than we do.”

“Sounds good.” Sunderland smiles. “I want you to remember that the firehouse function room is free to use for your wedding reception.”

“Free? Good to— Hey!”

“ You can save a pretty penny on the venue, and we’ll do it up really nice for you, Gord.” Sunderland walks off, chuckling.

Smug bastard.

“Does lunch from The Pine Loft Coffee Shop count as our fourth date?” Gordon enters my apartment with his arms full of bags and wearing an army surplus-looking rucksack on his back.

“Fifth. Breakfast this morning was fourth,” I smile, swiping away my current read, which was admittedly far too steamy for someone trying to take things slow—which is weird, considering this guy held me in my shower and slept in my bed—but I am.

Reading about a sexy Orc hockey player who also turns out to be a total doggy dad didn’t help me cool my libido. Especially once I see Gordon open a container of lox, carefully place some on a saucer, then give it to Chopin.

“You have to stop that,” I say suddenly.

Gordon recoils like he’s been shot, whisking the plate comically high above his head, like Chopin might leap six feet in the air to attack the pink fish on the saucer. “What? Why? I thought cats ate fish!” He protectively puts a hand on Chopin’s back, and Chopin stops his huff of protest and rolls over for belly scratches.

“You can give him the salmon. He will love it and become even more spoiled,” I say quickly, trying to stand and hobble over. “I meant you have to stop being so adorable with my cat, because you’re melting me into a big pile of mush.”

Mistake. Gordon shouldn’t run inside my small apartment. The vase with the flowers he gave me last week rattles and shakes. My water bottle, juice glass, and everything on my cheap glass coffee table dance worryingly. In a second, I’m airborne and carried to the table, and Chopin is wolfing down his salmon, afraid of it being taken away again.

“Don’t walk if I’m here. Oh, not only did Georgia at The Pine Loft give us this entire bag for free, but Madge at the magic store flagged me down and gave me this balm for your feet. She says it’s magically infused, so you’ll be better by tomorrow.”

“Hm. Then we’d better not use it,” I say, watching with wide eyes as Gordon unpacks the bags at the table. Bagels, cream cheese, lox, a quiche, cartons of soup, loaves of bread, a delicate blue glass bottle and a bag of dried herbs, and lastly, a little white box.

“Not use it?” Gordon picks up the bottle and studies it as if looking for a flaw he missed.

“Selfishly, I’ve decided I like being the hunky firefighter’s princess and having you here. If I’m better, you’ll leave tomorrow,” I pout. I wiggle my toes, and immediately know it’s time for another dose of Tylenol. “Never mind. Pain wins. Besides, if I can walk, I can hike, and we can go on our sixth date.”

Gordon smiles and pushes the white box next to my plate. “I don’t have to leave,” he says softly, and then goes back to prepping the food: slicing up quiche and bread, finding bowls for the soup.

“What’s this? A talisman to ward off blisters?” I joke, but realize it might be true. “Hey, are Orcs real?”

“Yeah. There are a few in town. Three of them work at the coffee shop, one as the head chef, one as the accountant and back-of-house person, and Georgia, who’s the front-of-house person and barista. She and her brother Georgie are technically half-Orc, half-human, but you wouldn’t know to look at either of them. Then there’s one on the hockey team. Heard the new athletic director at the high school is an Orc, too. Starts here in September.”

“Oh. That’s... What’s this?” I repeat myself as I lift the lid off the box, and instead of finding a talisman or another bottle of balm, I find a velvet-covered card with two earrings in it.

White-gold musical notes. “Gordon!” I gasp, one hand flying to cover my mouth.

“They’re precious metals.” Gordon looks at me, hands twisting a bagel to crumbs. “Do you like them? I can return them if you don’t.”

“I love them. They’re so beautiful. But you... But this is jewelry.”

“Captain Sunderland told me precious metals come after flowers,” he chokes out. “Oh. Do you have a broom?” He looks down, suddenly aware of the pile of crumbs on his plate and spilling onto the floor.

“I do, but don’t worry about that! They’re too much.”

Gordon is too much. For a guy who thinks he’s got to move with quiet, hesitant strides, he’s breaching my heart with the force of a tank. The way he took care of me. The way he fed Chopin. The thoughtful things he does, and how he’s so determined to do his best... “I love them. Thank you.” I rise, wincing at the burnt edges of my feet and toes as they grip and flex to stand, and lean over the table to kiss my boyfriend.

“My amazing boyfriend,” I whisper, caressing his face.