Page 23 of Keeping His Mate
Waldric clears his throat, lowering his voice, and says, “Your mind is like an untouched ball of dough, and I long to knead and caress it.”
Oh, dear god. I bite the inside of my cheek, cringing at the terrible pickup line. I can’t imagine Nalba will respond positively to it, and I really do not want to see sweet Waldric’s heart broken on my first day of dish duty.
“I do not know what that means,” she replies flatly. “But if you are saying I am brilliant, I know this.” Then she nods, presumably in thanks for the second plate, and saunters off toward her shop.
Then I pour all my focus into scrubbing the bowl in my hands, even though it’s already clean. I just cannot make eye contact with Waldric right now. I’m sure he knows I overheard the entire thing, but I have no idea what to say.
“It is fine, Elle-noor,” Waldric says after a long moment of silence. “This is how Nalba responds to my words.” He wipes his hands on a rag draped over his shoulder and dips his chin. “I do not know how to communicate my feelings to her.”
Rinsing the bowl, I place it next to the other clean ones on the table. “Well,” I begin, coming to stand next to him behind the fire pits, “have you ever considered not complimenting her on her intelligence?”
He scrunches his nose, baffled by my suggestions. “Why would I?”
“Nalba’s a genius, right? The whole clan knows it. She knows it too.” I tell him. “It’s a compliment she receives all the time. There’s nothing special about it at this point.”
He scratches the neatly trimmed hair of his beard. “You are suggesting I tell her that she is not knowledgeable?”
I chuckle at the concept of alien males attempting to “neg” a female they have a crush on. The absolute dumbest flirting technique ever created––by human men, of course––and I accidentally just gave Waldric a lesson in it. I need to quash this right now. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m suggesting that you should compliment Nalba in other ways.”
He taps his finger against his bottom lip as his eyes wander around the meal hall.
“What other things do you like about her?” I ask. “Her smile? Her hair? Her ass?”
“Yes, yes,” he replies quickly. “All these things.”
I pat his arm. “There you go, bud. Explore that.” Then I return to my dish buckets.
“I shall,” he finally replies. “Thank you, Elle-noor. I shall think on this.”
By the time all the bowls, plates, and mugs are clean and dry, the sun is high in the sky. Waldric is busy prepping the fire pits for lunch, and knowing that he is too distracted to pay close attention, I make my way to the back wall where the fresh ingredients are kept. “Hey, Waldric, may I take a few items home with me?”
He lifts a large portion of raw kuhnypa meat onto the middle pit, and replies, “Certainly, Elle-noor. Take what you need.”
For Stanley’s sustenance, I take a large mug of tibbi, a sealed bowl of vegetable root mash, and finding no clear or easily liquefiable source of protein, I grab a handful of jerky and stuff everything into my pack as I sling it over my shoulder. I don’t know if I can turn these items into a formula for him, but since this is all I’ve got, it’ll have to do.
“Thanks, Waldric!” I call out. “I’ll be back tonight to wash the dishes from lunch before the dinner crowd arrives.”
“Enjoy your day, Elle-noor!” he calls back. I let out a relieved sigh as I walk toward Bruvix’s house. He must be so tired of puppy duty right about now. I hope Stanley isn’t giving him too much trouble.
Before I reach the front door, I hear Bruvix say, “That is good, yes. Your waste goes here, and not where we sleep.”
Softly stepping along the side of the house and weaving through the rows of tall bushes that keep Bruvix’s house mostly hidden from the rest of the village, I peek around the corner to find Stanley wiping his feet in the dirt, kicking up leaves and moss to cover the poop behind him. “Hello, boys!”
Stanley trots over with a wagging tail and his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. “Hi, baby,” I coo as I bend down to fluff the fur between his tall, pointed ears. Did he grow another five pounds since this morning? He looks bigger somehow, even though we’ve only been apart a few hours. “How’d it go?” I ask Bruvix as he makes his way over to me. “Any disasters?”
“No,” he replies, scrubbing a hand down his face. He looks exhausted or stressed. It’s probably both. “I am teaching the tr’gory where to leave his droppings.”
“Stanley,” I add. “His name is Stanley now.”
He jerks back slightly. “You named him?”
“Of course. I’m not just gonna keep on calling him ‘the tr’gory’ or ‘puppy.’ Our boy needed a name, so I gave him a fun one.”
“Stahn-lee?” Bruvix slowly repeats, adding the same pause in the middle that he does with my name. It’s so cute I could throw up. Or maybe the drug berries aren’t sitting well in my stomach. I should eat something.
“And I brought home some supplies to make him a formula,” I say, then I stop. “Well, it won’t be a traditional formula, but hopefully it’ll get some nutrients into his system while settling his stomach.”
We go inside and I pour the tibbi and root mash into a mug. Then I tear off tiny pieces of the jerky and mix the three together with a wooden spoon. Once the texture is thick and soupy, I remove the spoon and crouch down to Stanley’s level, holding the mug out in front of me. “Come on, Stanley. Lunchtime, little nugget!”