Page 28 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy (Brides of the Lonesome Creek Orcs #3)

Holly

W e made dinner together, chicken, plus both starchy and non-starchy orc vegetables.

“Jessi grows them,” Sel said, pointing to the cragroot. “We use that one for all sorts of things. Grate it and mix it with chumble egg to make fritters. Or slice them into chunks and fry them for, well…cragroot fries.”

“Those sound amazing,” Max chimed in from beside us where he was mixing the ingredients Sel had written down to make a type of cookie bar that was popular in the orc kingdom. I’d never heard of some of the ingredients before, but I was sure the bars were going to taste amazing.

We worked together easily, like we’d been doing it for years instead of a week or so.

I chopped cragroot while Sel handled the chicken, and Max flitted between us, proudly reading out the steps of his cookie bar recipe like he was a seasoned chef.

Warm, savory smells started to fill the kitchen, and the windows fogged from the heat of the stove.

I caught myself smiling too much. It wasn’t only because of how good everything smelled either.

It was this . The ease between us. The way Sel bumped my hip lightly when he passed behind me, muttering “excuse me, little lady,” in a voice that sent a flutter racing through my chest. The way he was gentle with the directions he gave Max.

He treated my son like an equal, someone to be respected, and boy, did Max beam whenever he looked in Sel’s direction.

This felt good. Right. It kind of scared me. I’d walked barefoot into what I thought was safety once, and the floorboards had broken underneath me. I knew better than to sprint into warm light without checking for splinters.

What Sel and I had done earlier at the bakery… Thinking about that made my face overheat. I shifted, slicing cragroot faster, hoping they wouldn’t notice the way my skin went all blotchy pink.

That kiss. His hands. His mouth. He’d looked at me like I was the only thing he wanted in the world.

I had no regrets. Not one damn bit.

If anything, I wanted more, and the thought of trying to bring that up made my stomach knot itself into a hundred complicated shapes.

He’d told me I was his fated mate, but I still wasn’t sure if I could give him everything he deserved.

Not yet. My heart wanted to race ahead, but my mind still trailed behind, dragging all the old scars along with it.

Sel wasn’t anything like my ex. I knew that. He was patient and open and solid in a way I’d never experienced before. No sudden flashes of temper. No little digs designed to chip away at me. Just warmth, strength, and that slow, crooked smile that made my knees threaten to give way.

But scars didn’t disappear because you wanted them to. Bad stuff stuck. I needed time, and I was grateful Sel didn’t push.

When we finally sat down to eat, the kitchen glowed in the cozy, golden light of the lamp overhead. Max shoveled mashed cragroot onto his plate, looking proudly at the bars he’d made that were now cooling on a rack.

Sel passed me the chicken platter with a smile. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” I said, affecting my best damsel voice and making Max snicker around a mouthful of food.

Sel’s chuckle wrapped around me, making me feel safe. Wanted .

We dug in, and for a while the only sounds were the scrape of forks and the occasional hum of satisfaction. The food was incredible, the kind of meal that snuggled up to your ribs and made you feel cared for.

I watched Sel over the rim of my water glass as he laughed at something Max had said. I liked how he smiled with his whole face, how he always made sure Max was included, how he never once made us feel like outsiders.

Home.

I could get used to the feeling.

“I think we won the Best Dinner award,” I told Sel, setting my fork down on my empty plate and leaning back with a happy sigh.

He looked ridiculously pleased with himself. “We made it together, and that’s why it’s so special.”

“I’m giving this meal five stars,” Max said. “No, six.”

Sel placed a hand over his heart. “High praise, coming from a male of your culinary expertise.”

Max’s smile grew.

I bit my lip to hold back my laughter, heat flooding my chest again. Seeing the two of them together like this was dangerous in the best possible way.

After dinner, Max insisted on showing Sel the cookie bars, proudly pointing out how he had followed the recipe “almost exactly.” We all ate one, and the flavor was rich and nutty, almost caramel-like, with a hint of spice that lingered on my tongue.

“These are amazing,” I said.

Max practically levitated out of his chair.

Leaning forward, Sel ruffled Max’s hair, and my boy ducked away, his face going pink. He leaped up and started to put the leftovers into a container with Sel bringing our dishes to the sink.

I wanted to bottle this second so I could pour it out again later when things felt uncertain. I also wanted to tug Sel’s hand back and hold it. Never let go.

I helped, but I also watched them, my heart aching at how easily Sel had become such a vital part of our lives. This felt natural, like some missing piece had clicked into place without me even noticing it was missing.

As he washed the dishes with suds up to his elbows, Sel caught my gaze.

His expression softened into something tender, something that made my stomach twirl around like we had around the island at the bakery while the “Blue Danube” played in the background.

He had that look again, the kind that did more damage than any smolder ever could.

As if he saw things in me I couldn't yet name, and wasn't afraid to wait until I could.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I nodded, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “Yeah. I’m happy.”

His smile spread.

Happy…but scared. Still healing. Still trying to believe this could be real.

“Once we’re finished here,” Sel said, “I thought I’d take Max out to the barn and show him the early steps I take with the youngling sorhoxes. Assuming that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, yeah, please,” Max chimed in, hopping in place, something he hadn’t done in forever. Not since he was little. Seeing him so happy made my heart pinch tight. I had no interest in denying him this chance. He needed to be around males, not just his mom.

My little boy was growing up into a strong, independent, kind man, and I knew I could take full credit for it happening.

“Of course,” I said. “I’ll catch up on some reading.” I’d been able to read more here since we arrived than I had in at least the six months before.

This was getting very comfortable.

Too comfy? I had a feeling I’d soon see.