The Quarry Master: A Grumpy Alien Boss Romantic Comedy by Milo Amanda

Author:Milo, Amanda [Milo, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2020-07-19T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

ISLA

Bash serves dessert last. It’s almost like pudding. I mean, before it melts on the tongue it starts out crumbly like feta cheese, so it’s not like pudding at all—but it’s mild and sweet. Tastes sort of like pistachio pudding… cheese.

I lick the last of it off of my spoon—and glance up to catch two green orbs focused on my mouth.

I flush and set my spoon down.

Bash shakes himself and stands, his eyes darting away. “Are you ready to return to the preserve?” Without waiting to hear my answer he starts for the door.

“Darn,” I sigh.

Not looking back at me, he asks, “What is it? What factoid will you fill my ears with now?”

“No factoids. I just realized…” You only brought me here to share an innocent meal. No nefarious motives, no Isla-gets-lucky-with-Bash. Darn. “Just realized our time is up. I’ve had fun with you. That’s all. Want me to help you wash up the dishes?”

“Wash?” He stalks back to me—or to the table, I guess—and blows fire on the plates until the food flakes off.

“Well, okay. At least let me rinse the charcoal off.”

He does let me stay long enough to rinse his burnt-topped dishes, and then he dries them with more fire.

“Gosh, Rakhii are fun.”

Before we leave the kitchen, he collects my spoon, carefully setting it apart from the other dishes. Making sure my alien-touched dishware won’t infect the silverware drawer. If I harbored any hope that we were more than friends, this should set me straight.

He guides me to the doorway where we exit, leads me around the waterfall, and we journey away from his cave.

“I guess this is goodbye,” I tell him.

He shoots me a disgruntled (i.e., patented Bash) look. “I will escort you to the human preserve.”

“Human preserve sounds like we’ve been turned into a jelly or something.”

“Don’t give me pleasant ideas.”

I laugh. He doesn’t.

We walk in mostly silence, which means he lets me talk without contributing more than the occasional grunt as we move under the dark blanket of stars and strange planets overhead.

Uncharacteristically, I fall silent as we trudge side-by-side, heading for the place I’m staying. Where I’ll go to my lonely room with nothing as interesting in it as he is.

Bash doesn’t try to make conversation but he’s strangely companionable anyway, somehow.

At the outer door to the compound, his hand lands on the back of my neck and rests there, lightly. It isn’t a romantic touch. It’s harmony, it’s camaraderie, it's friendship.

And I can live with that.

It’s not everything I wanted, but I’d rather have this from Bash than nothing. This is okay. Am I still a bit down? Yeah, but my infatuation is a me-problem, and I can deal. Bash makes a fine friend, for a slightly malevolent alien. To cheer myself up, I tease, “Glad you're wrapping your big paw around the back and not the front of my neck. I might be concerned you were going to choke me.”

He leans in. “I don’t want to choke you, Isla.”

“Smother me?” I ask, my tone suspicious—but playful.

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