A Duke by Default (Reluctant Royals #2)(22)
“That sounds like an apology,” she said, then worked her bottom lip with her teeth. New Portia didn’t do enabling. “But if you’re really trying to be a better boss you can give me a real one.”
She felt the sudden, ingrained shame of having asked for something she wanted, but fought against it and waited.
Tav cleared his throat and inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry that I treated you like one of these knuckleheads instead of like a delicate flower,” he replied, eyes narrowed. “How’s that work?”
“Works great if it means I’m getting the delicate flower treatment from now on,” she shot back, and was shocked to see a ruddy pink begin to spread over both of his cheeks.
Shit. Gruff but vulnerable Tavish was bad enough, but flustered and blushing Tavish landed a direct hit on all her attraction buttons, pushing down on them with the pressure of a sonic boom. She sucked in a breath.
Actually, both are your boss and both are off-limits.
Tavish slapped his hands on the table and stood. “Right then. I’ve got work to do. Kev, you can tell her about the exhibition.”
With that he was up and swaggering back into the armory, moving quickly for such a big man.
“Ha!” Kevyn looked at Portia with wide eyes. “I just witnessed a miracle. The taming of Tavish.”
“I don’t do taming,” Portia said nonchalantly. “That requires time and effort that I could be putting into myself.”
“Are you both hungry? I have some tasty ribs on the menu today!” Cheryl called out.
Kevyn raised his brows. “Do you want to grab a bite while I tell you about the exhibition?”
Portia had writing and research to do, and should really finish those damn spreadsheets, but work could wait.
“Sure,” she said, then turned to Cheryl. “Can I have some dumplings with the ribs?”
Cheryl carried over their plates and joined them at the table, ready to spring from her seat if any customers approached.
“So. What are your feelings about renaissance faires? I know they’re dorky and everything but—”
Portia held up a hand to cut her off.
“Cheryl, I think there’s been some misunderstanding,” Portia said. “I’m not a geek, but I am a dork. There’s a ren faire every year at this park near where my friend Ledi lived in Manhattan, and I used to drag her along with me.”
Cheryl clapped with glee and Portia bit into the delicious lunch she’d been served. She could worry about Tavish and his weird behavior later. She had somehow come out of their conversation the victor, and she was going to celebrate.
Chapter 6
Tavish had been grinding in his workshop for hours and the restless energy hadn’t left him. Two weeks of body-intensive labor, really putting his back into production and sparring, plus a newfound interest in jogging, and he still hadn’t gotten the sudden, simmering need that had coincided with Portia’s arrival out of his system.
He turned on the power grinder and began the first passes of the sgian-dubh blade over the whirring, textured surface, smoothing away the imperfections in the metal. Someone had placed a somewhat substantial order for the small traditional daggers, and he was trying to get them out as quickly as possible, before the customer could change their mind. With his recent business luck, he couldn’t risk delay or sending out anything but perfect products.
He tried to clear his mind of everything else but the work before him. He braced himself against the shock that ran up the tang, gripped tightly in his hand, and reverberated through his body. Beveling the edge of the blade to make it sharp required slightly less concentration than other parts of the process. It required focus, like everything he did, but years of experience meant that stray thoughts of his business woes, or of his apprentice, wouldn’t result in the loss of hours of work.
Portia. Something about her clung to him like the fine steel mist thrown off by the grinder that was a pain in the arse to wash away. He was interested in her, and that talk of treating her like a delicate flower hadn’t helped. He wasn’t one to keep floral arrangements about the house, but he knew that you nourished flowers and in return you got to inhale their fragrance and run your fingertips over their soft petals. He didn’t need to think about either of those things when it came to his apprentice.
He growled, twisting his wrist to turn the blade back and forth. He didn’t mind getting dull with age, but was he really all hot and bothered about a snooty American? Pish. It was infatuation, like when he saw a well-made sword with an ornate hilt and brilliant artwork etched into the blade. Beautiful, but not essential.
Essential or not, he had to train her. That’s what she was here for. For the last two weeks he’d had her working on updating databases and shipping and anything that would keep her behind a desk and out of his sight. He’d admitted to being a bad boss, but the only thing he’d done to change it was growling slightly less when in her presence. Even that had him worried. Growls served as a warning to keep potentially dangerous creatures at bay. If he stopped, she might figure out that he was bloody terrified.
He turned off the grinder and examined the blade, running his thumb along the bevel. Still a little rough, but he needed to take a break. He placed the knife onto a soft towel on his worktable and was in the process of removing his protective ear coverings when a sudden, animal awareness went through him.