Page 21 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy (Brides of the Lonesome Creek Orcs #3)

Holly

T he scent of warm bustabill root pastries filled my senses as Gracie and I stepped into the front of the bakery.

Gracie went straight to the display case, tapping a finger against the glass as she peered through and squealed like an excited kid.

“Ohh. Those honey-brushed mincemal braids look like trouble.”

“They’re new.” I slid open the case and reached in with tongs. “We're still tweaking the glaze, but I think we're close.”

I added wellflower twists and a pinch of crushed sandberry seed to each braid before setting them on little plates, their soft gold crusts glinting under the case lights.

Gracie licked her lips like she was fighting the urge to grab one and start eating this minute.

Because she was making me smile, I added a few tellibean cookies to her plate as well.

“Let’s eat outside.” She took two thick paper cups from the stack near the carafe, upending them. Steam curled up as she filled them with dark tea brewed with lemon root slivers and a touch of honey foam. A bit spicier than most teas but it tasted amazing.

We pushed through the front door together, balancing plates and cups like we’d done it a hundred times.

The late day sun slanted through town, making everything sparkle.

We dropped into wicker chairs on the boardwalk, the little table between us wide enough for everything without sticking out too far to mess with foot traffic.

Smells drifted from the kitchen behind us—yeast, caramelized sugar, a hint of the bagels Sel must be baking by now.

Tourists wandered down Main Street, snapping pictures of the saloon.

A few peered through the general store's front window before they went inside.

Two guys wearing cowboy hats leaned against the porch rail outside the blacksmith shop, talking.

Laughter bubbled from somewhere near the big red barn that served as a function hall.

This town didn’t buzz like Boston, it breathed.

I sipped my tea and let it settle on my tongue. Warm and sweet. “It’s so nice here, even when it’s busy.”

Gracie blew across the surface of her tea. “Funny, isn’t it? This town could be full of marching bands, and it’d still feel slow in the best way. Makes cities feel big.”

“I'm from Boston, and it was.” I frowned toward the horizon. “Loud. Fast. Some people thrive on that. I thought I did. As it turns out, I only survived.”

“You met Max’s dad there?”

She knew about him, then, but I was sure Sel had shared a bit about me and my son with his brothers.

“Right after I graduated from high school.” I picked up my braid but didn’t bite yet. “He was charming. Said all the right things. Had all the worst intentions.”

“Your family didn't try to help?”

“I grew up in foster care and my foster mom had to stop taking in kids when I was a senior in high school. She got MS and it was too much. They placed me in another home but that one had tons of kids, and it was hectic. I mostly kept to myself.” And was ripe for Melvin.

We watched tourists pass.

Gracie didn’t rush to fill the silence.

“We were never married,” I finally said. “He’s not in Max’s life. Hasn’t been for years.” The words sat heavy, but it felt good to push them out.

“Hard road,” she said softly.

I nodded. “Still walking it.”

A kid darted past, riding a carved stick sorhox and shouting, “Hyaah,” like an outlaw chasing down a chumble. The stick’s fabric muzzle bounced with each step.

Gracie grinned. “Isn't that cute?”

“They take it seriously.”

She pointed to a cowboy wannabe strolling down Main Street in full gear, from spurs fixed to his boots, chaps over his jeans, to the fringe dangling from his leather, long-sleeved shirt.

“I wish I had enough confidence to wear fringe.” She gave a mock sigh, then swept her gaze over a couple walking by dressed like they were about to audition for a Wild West movie, both dressed like gunslingers.

“Tell me that guy’s pants aren’t made of actual leather.

Wouldn't it rub in all the wrong places?”

I snorted, nearly spilling my tea. “How do you think of stuff like that?”

“I’m cursed with taste. And excellent peripheral vision.”

She was funny. Not in a rehearsed way. Sharp, real, quick-minded. An actual adult who hadn’t lost her sense of play.

“So,” she said, straightening, lifting her phone off the table.

“Picnic basket auction. We thought something like in the movie Oklahoma . I saw it once when I was really young. An activity like that would be awesome tourist bait, plus community fun, and great PR.” She opened a blank document.

“We can host it five days from now. The tourists can create picnic baskets.

I'll make sure Aunt Inla has some in stock in the general store, though I believe I saw a pile of them near the back.

They could buy meals from the restaurant or ingredients at the general store and make the goodies themselves.

Let's encourage quirky baskets, maybe themes. That'll build excitement.”

“Great ideas.” I wasn't sure why she needed me to help when she had it well in hand, but I was happy to be asked.

“The proceeds will go to Bright Hope Animal Shelter. Whoever wins each basket gets a date with the basket maker if both are in agreement.”

I shifted in my seat, thinking it through. “You’ll need announcements. Posters in the bakery, restaurant, hotel. Maybe tabbed sign-up sheets with a number they can call if they have questions?”

“That’s good. Yes.” Her fingers flew.

“And maybe instead of only shouting bids, people could also write them down. Some folks get shy when it's public.”

Gracie gave me a bright look. “Discreet number bidding. Love it. You’re clever.”

“More like practical.”

“Which is why this’ll work. We balance each other well.”

That made me smile.

“Any other ideas?” Gracie asked, frowning at the screen.

“Who will run the auction and where can we hold it?”

“We can host it in the barn. I checked the schedule, and it’s free until three that day.

There’s a wedding after, but we can clear out in time for them to set up.

They’ll mostly use the back anyway.” She nudged her head to where it had been built at the end of Main Street.

“I'll ask Tark to run the auction itself.

He can rope in some of his brothers to help. Whoever's good with the public.”

I thought about it from all angles. “I can't think of anything else.”

“We can chat again tomorrow, but I'll get those flyers made tonight and will plaster the town with them in the morning.

I picked a short timeframe because people come and go all the time but most don't stay more than a few days.

We'll make sure everyone knows the baskets can be simple.

This doesn't need to be a huge endeavor or overwhelming on their part.”

With a nod, Gracie tapped a final note into her phone, then set it face down on the table. Her pastries were half gone, and her tea cup sat nearly empty between us.

She leaned back, stretching one leg under the table until her foot tapped mine. “So,” she said, her tone light, her eyes too knowing for casual. “Are you thinking of entering a basket yourself?”

“I don’t want to thrust myself out into the public eye like that.”

She frowned but nodded. “I understand. How about bidding on any baskets? You could do it anonymously.”

“Oh, well. I hadn't given that any thought.” Still, my stomach flipped. I glanced at my plate and stalled for a heartbeat. “Hmm.” I picked up my cup like it suddenly needed checking. “I think I’ll help run this with you. Make sure it all goes smoothly from behind the scenes.”

Gracie’s lips pursed like she was deciding if she should ask more or not. The smile she eventually gave didn’t quite reach her eyes. Something I couldn't define flickered behind them.

Maybe she wanted to be sure the event had participants. She was counting on people showing up, baskets in hand, with money ready to spend. I could help with that. Just not from the bidding side.

“I like to organize more than participate,” I said.

“Sounds good. I appreciate the help.” Gracie took another sip of her tea, placing the cup back on the table. “Have you met Jessi’s Grannie Lil yet?”

“I have. She and Aunt Inla stopped into the bakery my first day here. She's rather intimidating, isn't she? Yesterday, she poked her head into the front room of the bakery to say hi, but she didn't come inside. She was wearing a hat with tiny fake squirrels stuck all over it.”

“She's something else,” Gracie said with a grin. “She and Aunt Inla are building a dating app.”

“They mentioned that, but I thought it was a joke.” An odd one, but something they thought would be funny. My eyes widened. “Wait, are they doing it for real?”

“Yep. At first, they hoped to rope in Tark and his brothers, but most have mates now. So they shifted gears. Their test group is now exclusively orc widows eager to move to the surface and human divorcees, all over sixty. They’re calling it ‘Second Round.’”

“That's actually kind of brilliant.”

Gracie beamed. “They say it’s for the community, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure they want to snoop into everyone’s love lives.”

That made me laugh, a real one I felt in my chest.

She leaned in, propping her elbow on the table. “Before Lonesome Creek opened for tourism, it was just me, Jessi, and Rosey plus Sel's orc brothers.”

“Six moved to the surface to start this venture, right?”

She nodded. “There are more back in the orc kingdom. Orcs have huge families. Maybe me and Tark will too.”

“Are you pregnant?”