21. Bailey

Ashaking wreck for yet another reason, I flopped in my chair inside my office. "You shouldn't have done that."

Katar shut the door and leaned against it. "What in particular?"

"You know. Flynn's an important person here in town. He has a lot of say when it comes to the library." I sighed. "If he gets mad enough, he could have me fired. I'm skating on thin ice already."

"How did he learn you were about to be arrested?"

"That's a question without a good answer. I assume his scanner. Yesterday, he mentioned having one."

"Would the detective announce something like this on a scanner?" I asked.

"Announce that they were arresting me? Probably not." I felt like sobbing. My life appeared to be spiraling down the toilet, and there didn't seem to be anything I could do about it. Katar had held the detective off, but if he found a way to go above Katar, I'd soon find myself fingerprinted and sitting in a jail cell, awaiting a speedy trial.

"It's going to be alright." He tugged me off the chair, sat himself, and lifted me onto his lap, holding me. "I'm here with you, for as long as you need me."

What if I needed him forever?

Now that was me going wild. I'd only known him about twenty-four hours, and I was already seeing him as my lifetime. Talk about being out of my mind.

"Stress," I said. "That's why."

"Why are you trembling?" He kissed the top of my head. "We're going to solve this crime and clear your name."

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd handle this. I've already seen how strong you are, how determined."

"That's me channeling Helga Merryweather. She was the strong one. I . . . tend to limp out. Skitter away. I'm a librarian, though prim and proper doesn't necessarily come with the title. But I'm basically a walking librarian cliché."

"You're perfect the way you are. You know that, right? I know you want to go wild, and I appreciate that, but you don't have to do anything but be yourself to impress me."

Now I was getting all warm and mushy, and I was going to cry. "You say the sweetest things. Please promise me you're not a rogue."

Tilting his head, he frowned down at me. "Rogue?"

"A rascal or scoundrel. When applied to a male, it means someone who takes advantage of women. Use ‘em and lose ‘em. I'll call ya sometime. That kind of guy."

His frown didn't smooth. "Would you like me to provide references?"

"If I said yes, who would you give me one?"

"What could be better than a reference from the king of the orcs?"

"I imagine he's an impressive guy."

"Not a rogue," he said with a laugh.

"All that aside, I'm telling you that I trust you not to hurt me."

"You're my mate. I'm merely waiting for you to tell me when it's time to claim you."

"I know claim must mean having sex, but what else comes with an orc mating?"

"Me," he said smugly. "You get all of me."

"That still sounds sexual." And the idea was heating me up nicely. Wrong place. Right guy, however.

"In many ways, it is. But it also means I'll protect you, cherish you, and provide whatever you need for the rest of your life. Following orc traditions, I'll continue to woo you every day of our lives. I'll take care of your home and yard, hoping they'll be our home and yard, and I'll cook for you."

"Do you vacuum?" I was only teasing.

"I do it naked."

Now that was something I had to see. I could picture him dancing around to music through earbuds, sashaying his gorgeous butt and his cock . . . "Would you please vacuum when we get home tonight?"

He flashed his tusks my way. "Only if you'll go wild and use a feather duster while I do it."