Page 33 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy (Brides of the Lonesome Creek Orcs #3)

Sel

A fter Gracie left, Holly returned to the kitchen while I was finishing mixing up a batch of cloonflower scones. They tasted best if the cloonflowers were given the chance to permeate the batter, so I wanted to build the batter before the end of the day. I’d bake them first thing in the morning.

Meanwhile, cookies were baking in the oven. I’d never found it a challenge to manage more than one dish at a time until I met Holly. Now I too often found myself distracted.

For example, now, when she strode into the kitchen with her cheeks pink from sunshine and her eyes glowing with happiness.

It made my breath stop in my lungs and my heart roar like a wild sorhox.

Also like a wild sorhox, I wanted to issue a challenge to any male who might be near, telling them to back away.

That she was mine.

Instead, I gave her a sappy grin and lost complete control of my mind.

“Hey,” she said, stopping beside me at the counter.

“Hey,” I croaked right back. To make it look like I actually remembered what I was doing, I gave the ingredients in the bowl a couple of stirs. What was I making again? Oh, yeah, right. Cloonflower scones.

“What are you…” Frowning, she lifted her nose, scenting the air. “Something’s…”

Burning.

Damn.

I raced to the big oven and wrenched the door open, grimacing as smoke clouded out, jetting around me.

Holly rushed to the back door to open it while I grabbed a mitt and leaned into the oven to latch onto the pan of scorched cookies.

The burn didn’t hit me right away. It was the kind of pain that came a few seconds later, sneaking up like a silverwhip in the grass.

One moment I was sliding the tray of cookies out of the oven, the next I was brushing my forearm against the door’s edge.

Skin hit piping hot metal. I didn’t flinch at first. Just gritted my teeth and set the tray on the cooling rack like nothing had happened.

That flash of fire under my skin stabbed through me as I butted the door closed with my hip. A hiss slipped through my teeth, and I jerked back, looking down to find an angry red line already rising on my forearm. Blisters would follow. I’d burned myself worse, but this one bit deep.

Holly noticed before I could think to hide it.

“Sel.” Worry sharpened her voice as she rushed to me, her pretty eyes wide. “You burned yourself.”

“It’s nothing.” I couldn’t keep the wince out of my voice as I flexed my arm. Heat pulsed all the way up to my elbow.

Holly took my hand and guided me over to the sink and under the light. She skimmed her fingertip across the area near the burn. “That looks painful.”

I stared at her mouth as she spoke. As she turned on the cold water and guided my arm under the flow. I adored the way her lips formed words. The concern for me etched between her brows. She looked like she hurt for me, and that leveled me more than the burn itself.

“It’s fine.”

She gave me a look and turned on her heel, hurrying to the small office and returning with the first aid kit Aunt Inla insisted I place in my desk drawer.

It had remained there since. My aunt would be pleased to see it was finally getting some use.

Holly turned off the water and gently blotted my arm dry.

I did my best not to wince when her fingers came close. It really hurt but burns always did.

“Sit,” she said, nodding toward the wooden stool near the back counter.

Dropping into it, I watched her move through the kitchen like she belonged here. Like she belonged with me. My throat tightened. She filled a bowl with water and took a clean hand towel from the drawer, placing them on the counter beside the first aid kit that she opened to study what was inside.

“You really don’t have to fuss over me,” I said, trying for lightness.

She met my eyes as she stepped between my thighs.

That made my cock kick against the fabric of my pants and my mind spin.

“I want to help you. Let me?”

“Of course. Please.” Any time. Always. Today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life, the fates willing.

She dipped a strip of the towel in the water and wrung it out before laying it over the burn.

The coolness hit like a balm, making me suck in a breath.

She glanced up, studying me, her hand pausing.

I shook my head to show her she wasn’t hurting me.

It felt good, her taking care of me. I’d never had that before with anyone other than my mother when I was young.

“I’m sorry if I’m making your pain worse,” she said softly, still focused on my arm.

I didn’t answer at first. Watching her felt like I was stepping too close to the edge of something high and unsteady. Dangerous, but beautiful.

“I’m not used to talking about pain much,” I said. “If you live in the orc kingdom long enough, you learn not to flinch.”

Her brows pulled together again, and she went quiet for a moment as she folded a dry towel under my arm, propping it up on the counter like I was made of something precious.

“That doesn’t mean you have to deal with it alone.

” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it hit like a hammer to the chest. I looked down at her, standing there like the fate-sworn goddess of comfort and firelight, and I had to fight the urge to pull her into my lap and kiss her senseless.

I didn’t, though. Because what I wanted wasn’t just her lips. I craved everything. All of her. And I wouldn’t take more than she was ready to give.

“You’re good at that,” I said instead.

She blinked. “At what?”

“Taking care of people. You’ve done it all your life, haven’t you? For Max. For everyone but yourself.”

She didn’t say anything for a long while, just looked at me as if she wasn’t sure how to respond. I watched her throat work as she swallowed.

“Yeah,” she said eventually, her voice quiet. “I guess I have.”

I reached out and touched a lock of her hair, brushing it back behind her ear. My fingers lingered there. “Let someone take care of you now.”

She drew in a shaky breath, but she didn’t pull away. Her eyes flicked up to mine, and the air between us tightened. We were teetering on the edge of something terrifying yet wonderful.

“I’ll wrap your arm.” Her voice had gone soft again, but her hands were steady as she removed the wet fabric. She opened a bandage and began to wind it carefully around the burn.

While she cared for me, the bakery hummed quietly around us. Afternoon light spilled through the back windows, gilding her hair, softening the edges of her face.

She finished the wrapping and taped it in place, leaning back to study her work. “That should help. You’ll need to keep it clean.”

“I will.” I smiled down at her, hoping she wouldn’t notice how creaky my voice was.

Her cheeks turned pink.

When she stepped out from between my thighs, I rose. We stood in place, too close together but not close enough. Her breath caught. My injured arm hung awkwardly between us, but I wanted to touch her. Hold her face. Kiss the worry line away from between her brows.

“Thank you,” was all I could say.

“You’re welcome.”

“You don’t know what this means to me.”

I suspected she wanted to say something, but instead she reached up and brushed her fingertips along my jaw. Her hand trembled.

The bell over the bakery door jingled.

We stepped back, the spell broken.

She gave me a wobbly smile and turned to head for the front. I watched her go, my bandaged arm cradled against my chest, and I wondered how I’d ever lived without her in this space. Without her warmth. Her laughter. The sound of her humming under her breath when she worked.

I missed her when she was more than five feet away. That had to mean something.

I was holding onto my patience. She’d come to me when she was ready. But fates help me, I was already hers. Every part of me. Scars, heart, soul.

And I was starting to think she might be feeling the same way.