Page 30 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy (Brides of the Lonesome Creek Orcs #3)

Holly

A fter breakfast the next morning, we left Max to work with the sorhox youngling and rode Zist to town. It felt nice to ride with Sel. Comforting.

And arousing. My feelings were growing all the time, but I didn’t know what to do about them yet.

Inside the bakery, we worked side by side like always, but something between us had shifted in a way I liked more than I was ready to admit out loud.

The bakery kitchen was filled with the soothing scent of flour and spices, yeast, and sugar.

It was still early morning, the sun was barely up, and a thin mist clung to the windows.

I kneaded the dough we’d started yesterday on the floured counter while Sel shaped his orc-style bread knots with practiced ease.

He’d rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, and his droolworthy, thick forearms were dusted in flour.

His scent, earthy, warm, and faintly sweet, kept winding its way into my lungs and making it hard to focus on my task.

He glanced at me and smiled, a crooked little grin that flashed his tusks and made my stomach flip over.

“You're quiet this morning,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

I nodded, smoothing the dough beneath my hands. “Just thinking.”

“A dangerous pastime.”

“Not if you know what you're doing.”

He chuckled, that low rumble of a sound heating me from the inside out. “Well, if you're thinking about how good you looked yesterday on the back of Zist, I support that.”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks burned in the way he always managed to coax out of me. I couldn’t stop smiling, and I imagined I looked like I was going out of my mind.

I liked this version of us. Easy, teasing.

It felt good. Safe. Natural. But it also felt new, as if we were standing on the edge of something deeper, something that could spell out future and love and a new beginning.

The way he'd looked at me last night, sitting across the dinner table with Max laughing along with his jokes, had carved into me more than I wanted to admit.

It made me want things only this male could give.

And that scared me.

Sel didn’t push. He remained patient, letting me set the pace, and that made me want him more than anything. I wasn’t ready to give him everything, but I was close.

“I like this,” I said softly.

He turned toward me, flour on his jaw, his brow lifted. “What’s that?”

“Us. Working like this. Being here together. It’s nice.”

His eyes softened. “Yeah. It is.”

We didn’t say anything more for a while, and we didn’t need to. The silence stretched between us in a good way. The oven hummed. Outside, the town was beginning to stir. The first tourists wouldn’t arrive for another hour or so, and we’d be ready like always.

I segmented and plopped the dough into greased pans to rise and washed my hands, drying them on a cloth, watching Sel as he twisted the last of his knots and set them on a tray to rest. He moved with such confidence; he was built for this, for creating, for care. For home.

I started to make the glaze that would go on the knots once they’d baked. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

He looked up from where he’d started mixing ingredients for another orc cookie. “I might say something that completely repels you.”

Sel? Not a chance.

I gave him a playful grin. “Come on. Humor me.”

He wiped his hands and leaned on the counter beside me, close enough I could feel the heat sliding off him. He looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. “Alright. I once got kicked out of the royal orc kitchens for smuggling in a chumble.”

I blinked. “The big pink chickens.”

“They’re more the size of ostriches, per Gracie. But the chumble was hungry. It seemed like the kind thing to do.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“Max’s age.”

“And nowhere near as wise. Obviously.”

I laughed. “Did the chumble enjoy royal food?”

“She had very refined taste.”

The sound of the doorbell above the bakery’s front door jingled, and I straightened, blinking at the clock. We weren’t technically open yet, but we’d unlocked the door.

Sel frowned and nodded to me. “I’ll take care of this.”

I watched him disappear through the doorway, then moved to peek into the front.

A woman, mid-thirties maybe, with sleek dark hair and a sharply tailored coat that didn’t belong in a Wild West tourist town stood by the door, looking around.

Her heels clicked on the floorboards as she paced over to the counter where Sel waited with a pleasant smile on his face.

“Can I help you?” he asked. “We’re not open and fully stocked yet, but something might appeal.” His hand swept toward the display case.

“I’m not here for baked goods,” she said. “I’m looking for Holly Engle.”

My gut tightened.

Sel didn’t move, didn’t look toward me. “About what?”

“Family business. I need to pass her a message.”

Wait. I knew that voice. It had been years, but the tone hadn’t changed.

I stepped into the front, my heart knocking hard. “Cora?”

Her smile stretched wider, though it remained thin and didn’t come close to sparkling in her eyes. “Holly. There you are. You look…flour-y.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “What can I help you with?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just wanted to chat.”

There was more to her visit than that. “It’s been a long time.”

“I moved out of the apartment unit next to your old one. Had you heard?”

The apartment where Max and I had lived with Melvin, where he’d hurt me badly enough I pressed charges. Since the rent was higher than I could afford on my salary alone, we’d moved into a smaller place. “It’s been years, so no.”

Sel stepped closer to me in support.

“You drove all the way out here for a social call?” I asked, not bothering to hide the disbelief in my voice.

“I heard you were living in the middle of nowhere, and I had to come see it for myself.” Cora shrugged. “I also wanted to give you a heads-up. Melvin’s out. I heard about it in the news.”

“I knew that already.” Hence, running.

“Bet you didn’t know he’s retained a lawyer.”

“For what?” I’d barely taken any of my own possessions. None of his.

“Not sure. Just heard it and thought you’d want to know that as well.”

“How did you find me?” That was the worst thing about all this. If she had, he could too. “Did he send you?” I’d swear they’d had something back then, but I was too tired and stressed to worry about what they were doing on the sly.

“No, I came on my own.” Her chin lifted. “You and I were friends once.”

Maybe. And maybe not if she was sleeping with the guy I was with.

This was a poor attempt to reestablish a connection.

“As for how I found you, I saw your face in someone’s Instaplug video,” she said. “I actually live a few towns over now and when I saw you were working in Lonesome Creek, I thought you’d want to know.” Cora took a step back. “Well, I guess I’ve said my piece, and I’ll leave now.”

The door bell jangled as she left.

Sel turned to me, his face carved in stone, his voice gentle. “Are you alright?”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know.” How had she seen my face on Instaplug? I wasn’t posting images myself.

Tourists. Maybe when Sel was introducing us to Zist and Brelar.

He reached for my hand. “He won’t get near you or Max. Not while I’m breathing.”

My throat tightened. I looked up at him, into those fierce dark eyes, and I started to believe I could trust someone to protect me without taking anything away. “Thanks.”

He held my gaze a second longer, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

We returned to the kitchen, but my sunny moon had been blown wide open. Sensing that, Sel turned on some music on his phone and started singing along in a terrible voice. The sway of his hips got me smiling again, however.

A bit later, the kitchen smelled like sweet spice and warm bread, and I was elbow-deep in a bowl of orcish sweet dough, trying not to steal a bite of the honey-slicked mixture. Sel stood at the other counter, scooping mounds of brundle-nut cookie dough onto a greased sheet.

We worked in sync, passing ingredients, trading off at the ovens, bumping into each other with soft mutters of “excuse me,” that sent tiny electric shivers down my spine.

Something between us had changed since the night before.

It wasn’t just that we’d kissed. Or danced.

Or that he’d given me some amazing orgasms inside this very kitchen.

It was the way we moved around each other now. The way our silence had stopped being awkward and started feeling comforting.

I wasn’t ready to jump headfirst into anything yet. My heart still wore old bruises, some I barely understood myself. But I could see myself getting there. With him .

I glanced over at Sel. He’d tied his dark hair back, and a streak of flour painted his face where he’d rubbed it earlier. I itched to reach out and wipe it away.

Instead, I swallowed. “You’ve got something…” I gestured vaguely toward my own face.

He blinked and wiped at the wrong cheek.

“Nope, the other side.”

He tried again. Still missed.

I laughed, stepping closer. “Here, hold still.”

Sel bent forward, and I reached up and brushed the flour from his cheek. His skin was warm, the brief touch doing something funny to my insides. When I pulled back, he caught my wrist and held it firmly enough to remind me how solid he was.

His gaze was so open. So full.

“Thanks.” He let go, the loss of contact oddly disappointing.

I turned back to my cooking, my face overheating. “Yeah. No problem.”

I’d barely gone back to mixing when he stepped over to stand beside me, watching me with a curious little tilt of his head.

“You ever used too much florn powder before?” he asked, a little too casually. I welcomed the shift.

I glanced down at the big bowl in front of me. “This is my first time working with it. Why?”

He leaned in, sniffed the air, and raised his brows. “Because that dough looks like it might try to eat you .”

I stared at it. Crap. It was puffing up fast and frothing at the edges.

“Oh no,” I groaned. “Tell me I didn’t do something wrong.”

“I mean…” Sel’s voice tickled with laughter. “I could lie. But the way it’s bubbling like a bog? Too much florn powder. It’s my fault. I should’ve mentioned that before you started that recipe.”

“It looks possessed. I just—ugh, I must’ve doubled the powder without realizing.

” I’d been too focused on staying upright, not screwing up, keeping my insides inside.

Of course I lost track. Of course the dough went feral.

I tried to rescue it, stirring faster, but that only seemed to make things worse.

“Okay, yep. It’s foaming. This is foam. I made foam cookies. ”

“You invented something new,” Sel said, grinning. “Call it an orcling puff. Tourists will buy them as fast as we can make them.”

I gave him a look. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Maybe a little.” He nudged my elbow. “Let’s throw it out before it oozes out of the bowl and eats your arms.”

“I like these arms,” I said, trying not to laugh as I carefully carried the bowl out to the dumpster. “It won’t foam enough to fill the dumpster, will it?”

“Shouldn’t.”

I tipped it forward, and a blorp of the frothy white dough launched away from the bigger mass and landed on Sel’s groin with a splat.

I froze, horrified. “Oh my, Sel. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Sel blinked at his pants like a male trying to comprehend his new relationship with flour. He glanced up at me.

I bit my lip, bracing for some kind of reaction. I mean, Melvin would’ve backhanded me by now.

Instead, his shoulders started to shake with laughter. “The dough has spoken. It wants to be made into orcling puffs.”

I stared at him, then started laughing too, helpless, gasping laughter that bent me at the waist. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like that. My ribs ached and my eyes watered.

“I’m sorry,” I wheezed. “I didn’t mean to make it look like you came all over your pants.”

“It might help my reputation around town.” He brushed it off and tossed it into the bin.

“I can’t imagine you having anything but an amazing reputation here.”

Even when he was covered in foam and pretending shock, he looked like someone I’d trust with the last slice of cake. That was new.

“Don’t talk to my brothers, then.”

But I wanted to. I’d pick their brains for everything they remembered about growing up with Sel.

We went back inside, and it hit me. No customers for now. We were alone. In a warm kitchen, surrounded by the smells of bread and spices, his body inches from mine, his laughter still echoing in the space between us.

The moment turned quiet.

He stepped closer to me.

I swallowed, my heart thumping hard in my chest. “This isn’t fair. You’re much too appealing to resist.”

“Oh?” His voice was a little rougher now. “Care to share more?”

“I’m trying to be good.”

Sel brushed a flour-dusted strand of hair from my cheek. “You are such a good girl already.”

My breath caught. My brain short-circuited. I wasn’t overthinking it because I didn’t have the bandwidth to think at all.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I went with the truth. “I like this too. What we’re building between us.”

He nodded. “I do too.”

Knowing he wouldn’t pressure me made it easier to step close enough for our bodies to nearly brush.

“I’m scared,” I said. “Of messing this up. Of trusting the wrong person again.”

“You won’t. Not with me.”

I wanted to believe him, and some part of me already did.

I leaned in enough to rest my forehead against his chest. He stood in place, letting me have the space, letting me breathe.

His hand slid gently to my back, stroking.

“I’m not ready for everything,” I said quietly. “But I’m getting there.” I wasn’t planning to say that out loud, but the words slipped out. I didn’t regret it, though.

“I’ll be here when you are.”

Something swelled in my chest. Relief, maybe, or gratitude. Or that dangerous little flicker of love I wasn’t ready to name.

We stood in place, wrapped in the scent of baking bread and the soft hush of the kitchen.

Eventually, I stepped back. “Still can’t believe my dough attacked you.”

“I’ll recover. But only if you promise not to use too much florn powder again.”

“No promises.” I turned back to the counter, my heart still hammering in a nice way. “I guess we should get back to work.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He headed for the storage room where we kept supplies. “But if I come back and find that dough trying to crawl out of the dumpster, I’m setting it on fire.”

I laughed again, lighter this time. Freer.

Something between us had changed, and I had a feeling it wasn’t going back to where it had been before.