Page 2 of Bidding on the Orc Outcast (Sweet Monster Treats)

CHAPTER TWO

V arek adjusted the leather satchel filled with the results of his labors against his shoulder. The morning’s foraging had yielded a good harvest despite the snow still covering much of the ground. The familiar sights and sounds of the forest surrounded him - the soft rustle of the wind through the pines, the distant chatter of birds - creating a rare moment of peace.

The peaceful feeling evaporated when a splash of yellow caught his eye. His godmother Flora was perched on the front steps of his cabin wearing a fluffy yellow tracksuit that made her look like an innocent little chickadee. He knew better. Flora almost always had some kind of scheme in mind when she came to visit him, and her harmless appearance didn’t fool him for a second.

He carefully took a quiet step back, then another, praying he could escape before she dis-

“Don’t even think about sneaking away, boy.” Flora’s amused voice carried across the clearing in front of his cabin. “I know you’re there.”

He sighed and went to join her. The sooner he dealt with whatever she wanted, the sooner she’d leave. “What do you want, Flora?”

Her eyes widened in innocent surprise.

“Maybe I just wanted to see how my favorite godson-”

“Your only godson.”

“-my favorite godson was doing. Come and join me.”

She gave him her sweetest smile as she patted the step next to her, but that only made him more suspicious. His godmother - if she actually was his godmother as she claimed - was most dangerous when she looked the most innocent.

“I’m fine. Working.”

He patted his satchel and remained standing, towering over her small body, but she didn’t look even remotely intimidated. She claimed her diminutive size came from a fairy somewhere in her family tree, but her lack of inches made her no less formidable than a full-sized orc.

“Don’t be silly. Your plants aren’t going anywhere. Opportunities, on the other hand, can slip right by while you’re hiding in these woods.”

“I’m not hiding.” The familiar defensiveness crept into his voice.

“I’m glad to hear it. Then you won’t mind participating in the Valentine’s Day bachelor auction. It’s to raise money for the animal shelter.”

A bachelor auction? Standing on a stage for people to gawk at and whisper about? She must have lost her mind.

“Absolutely not.”

Her eyes widened again.

“Don’t you care about those poor animals?”

“You know I do, but I’m not going.”

“It’s just for one evening. Unless you’re scared?”

“Manipulation doesn’t work on me anymore.” But even as he said it, he suspected he’d end up doing whatever she wanted. He always did.

Not this time.

He cast a longing look at the surrounding forest. It should be dense enough to hide him, at least for a little while. Flora had an uncanny ability to track him down. But if it would buy him some time…

His fingers tightened on the leather strap of his satchel, but his godmother only laughed and patted the step next to her again.

“Oh, stop plotting useless escape routes, boy, and sit down. My neck hurts from looking up at you.”

The wooden step creaked under his weight as he sighed and lowered himself down beside her, careful to leave space between them.

“What’s this really about?”

“You’re so suspicious,” she complained, smoothing the downy yellow feathers covering her tracksuit.

“That’s because I know that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that means trouble. For me.”

The mischievous look disappeared as she reached over and patted his knee.

“I worry about you out here alone.”

His jaw tightened again. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. You’ve isolated yourself from everything and everyone. And don’t tell me you prefer it that way. No one prefers loneliness.”

He flinched, the words striking a little too close to home. He’d come to terms with his life, even found a certain satisfaction in it, but he couldn’t deny that it was a lonely one. When the only sounds he heard for weeks on end were the chattering of the birds and the wind whispering through the leaves. But he knew better than to admit it.

“I don’t need your meddling in my life, Flora.”

“Of course not,” she agreed and he almost relaxed, but then her hand tightened on his knee. “All I want is for you to enter the bachelor auction.”

“Why? No one is going to bid on me.”

Something flashed across her face too quickly for him to read before she shook her head.

“Remember when you climbed Mr. Thompson’s apple tree and got stuck?”

He blinked at her, the abrupt change of subject catching him off guard.

“Yes. Why?”

“Because you’re still stuck. You’re letting one event define you. That’s why you’ve retreated to this cabin in the middle of nowhere and turned your back on everyone and everything.”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. The truth was lodged somewhere deep inside, but bringing it out into the open was still more than he could bear.

She sighed and patted his knee again. “You don’t have to be alone.”

His chest ached and he swallowed hard, forcing down the feelings that threatened to rise to the surface. Why did she have to start stirring up everything he’d buried?

“What do you want?” The words came out rougher than he intended.

“Just for you to rejoin the land of the living. Starting with the bachelor auction.”

He focused on the strap of his satchel, running it between his fingers as he avoided her gaze.

“Fairhaven Falls has changed. You’ve changed,” she said softly. “You can’t spend the rest of your life gathering herbs and mixing oils all by yourself.”

His jaw clenched. The oils helped people, even if they didn’t know where they came from. That was enough for him.

“I mean it.” The feathers on her tracksuit fluttered as she shifted to face him. “This self-imposed exile needs to end. You’re not that angry teenager anymore, and what happened wasn’t your fault.”

The old guilt churned in his stomach, and he stood, unable to stay still under her knowing gaze. “I’m fine here.”

“You’re existing. There’s a difference.”

“Drop it,” he growled.

“When have I ever dropped anything?” Flora shook her head. “You think I don’t see right through this ‘perfectly happy’ act?”

So maybe he wasn’t happy. But he was resigned to his quiet life, to the solitude of his cabin and the predictable rhythm of gathering herbs and brewing oils. It was better this way - for everyone.

“The woods don’t judge,” he muttered.

“The woods don’t love either. And you deserve that, whether you believe it or not.” She pulled a pink flyer from her tracksuit pocket and waved it under his nose. “You’ll be Bachelor Number Seven.”

“What?”

“I’ve already paid your entry fee.”

Blood roared in his ears. The thought of standing on display, of watching faces twist with fear or disgust…

His tusks ached from clenching his jaw. “Take it back.”

“Can’t. No refunds.” Black eyes sparkled mischievously. “Besides, it’s for charity.”

“The town won’t want me there.” The words scraped his throat raw as memories of sideways glances and mothers pulling children closer flickered through his mind.

Flora sighed.

“You have every right to be there. And anyone who doesn’t like it can kiss my ass. You’re going.”

“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing himself up to his full height.

“Yes.” She matched his stance, all five-foot-nothing of her radiating pure stubbornness. “The auction is this weekend. Plenty of time to get you a proper shirt.”

He glared at her. “There’s nothing wrong with my clothes.”

“Other than the fact that they’re almost as old as you are?” She jabbed a surprisingly painful finger at his chest. “You’re going. End of discussion.”

Fuck. Once Flora set her mind to something, she was worse than a dog with a bone. But the thought of standing on that stage, of seeing the same judgment and fear he’d faced years ago…

“The town remembers what happened,” he said roughly.

“The town needs to get over itself. And you need to stop letting one incident define your whole life.” Her black eyes suddenly sparkled with mischief. “Besides, there are plenty of new faces in town. People who don’t know about-”

“Don’t.”

“Fine.” Flora patted his arm. “But you’re going. Even if I have to march down here with my entire knitting circle and drag you there myself.”

Since the average age of her knitting circle was well above seventy, the mental image of Flora and her gaggle of friends - human and Other alike - trying to budge his seven-foot body almost made him smile. Almost.

“Half those ladies would break a hip.”

“Then save us all the trouble and show up on your own.” Flora headed down the porch steps with the determined stride that had terrorized reluctant bachelors for decades. “This weekend, Varek. Wear something nice.”

He watched her go, his jaw clenching until his tusks ached again. His godmother was more stubborn than a mule - and twice as crafty. If she’d decided that it was time for him to leave the woods, she’d keep coming back, wearing him down with her particular blend of guilt and manipulation until he gave in.

His shoulders slumped. Maybe it was better to get it over with. One night of discomfort and then blessed peace.

“Flora,” he called after her.

She turned, yellow feathers fluttering the breeze. “Yes, dear?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her. “If I agree to participate in this ridiculous auction, you’ll stop. No more schemes to drag me into town. No surprise visits about community events. No matchmaking.”

Her delighted smile instantly made him regret speaking. “Of course not, dear. One auction and I’ll never bother you about town participation again.”

The promise came a little too easily, but he was still going to take advantage of it. “Fine.”

“Excellent. Now about your clothes-”

“No,” he growled. “I agreed to show up. That’s it.”

“But-”

“Those are my terms.”

She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose that’s all right. Some women go for that rugged look after all. And who knows? You might end up going on a wonderful date and finally getting laid.”

He choked and she grinned at him before disappearing down the forest path. He stared after her in dismay, then slumped back against the porch railing. What had he just agreed to? The thought of standing on display while women bid on him made his skin crawl. Or more likely, didn’t bid on him.

But if it put an end to Flora’s schemes… He’d endure worse for that kind of peace.