Page 39 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy (Brides of the Lonesome Creek Orcs #3)

Sel

S tanding at the bakery’s counter the next day, I put the finishing touches on my picnic basket donation, and stepped back, checking it out.

Sturdy wicker, square-shaped, strong. I’d lined it with a cream-colored cloth, the edges stitched with small green leaves.

Not my work, but I'd traded three loaves of bread for it from Grannie Lil who insisted the needlework was hers, though I remained skeptical. She could do anything she put her mind to, but I couldn’t picture Jessi’s spry grandmother sitting still long enough to create such an intricate piece of work.

I loved it. Might keep it later. I could wrap it around Holly when she wore nothing else.

I’d wrapped a ribbon around the handle, doing my best to make a bow. It was…not a good bow, but hopefully good enough.

I’d packed it with orc specialties. A clay container of stone-spiced grain roast, the way my mother always made it, rich with garlic and dried plumerest. A side of pickled crabroot, a stack of wild greens flatbread, and a chilled jar of endally spritz I'd brewed myself. For dessert, I’d included three honeyed willadon cakes in a tin.

I'd carved the edges of each one with little mountain peaks. Holly would notice.

Assuming she bid on and won my basket. She planned to, right?

A folded note sat tucked beside the cakes. Just her name, written in my hand, and a special message for the woman I adored above all others.

I rubbed the back of my neck and stepped away, eyeing the thing again.

When I’d asked Holly if she planned to bid, she’d only grinned, coy and maddening.

She’d better. I only wanted to share this basket with her.

I checked the time on the clock, and realized I needed to leave. I picked up the basket, careful not to jostle the things inside, and stepped out onto the small back deck, locking the door behind me.

Outside, the early afternoon sun was warm but not hot, and the breeze carried the smell of wildflowers from the plains surrounding Lonesome Creek.

Main Street ran straight through town like it had somewhere important to be, though nobody here ever rushed.

They were on vacation and wanted to take this time to slow the world down.

I took a right, walking along the alley spanning the backside of the false-front buildings, all painted in colors that looked sun-faded even though they were new, and ducked through an opening, stepping onto the boardwalk spanning the front of our small town, aiming for the big red gambrel barn at the end.

Bunting flags flapped between porch posts, red and white mostly, a little blue here and there.

Tourists milled around in prairie gowns and bonnets, cowboy hats and vests, some clinking with fake spurs, some stopping to take pictures beside a stagecoach parked in front of the general store pulled by one of our tamest sorhoxes.

A youngling male about ten ran past with candy in one hand and a fake wooden rifle in the other, a youngling female giving chase.

I nodded to everyone I passed, and other than a few giving me startled looks, they nodded back.

Everybody was in a good mood, but who wouldn’t be when they were on vacation?

Some carried baskets of their own, wrapped in gingham or tied with bows, the kind of thing they’d probably bought just for today.

I liked the sound of it all. The footsteps and chatter, the distant sound of a sorhox bellowing and the bursts of laughter. Lonesome Creek felt stretched wide open in a good way.

The bond mark on the underside of my wrist tingled.

Still new enough that I barely believed I had it.

I’d gone from believing I’d never be with anyone else, mourning the loss of my mate and youngling, to building a sudden family with Holly and Max.

I didn’t think my heart could swell with love any further, though I was willing to try.

I shifted the basket in my arms and stepped off the end of the boardwalk, striding toward the barn that rose ahead.

Two stories tall and wide, it was freshly painted in a deep, rich red that caught the sunlight like velvet.

White trim gleamed. Aunt Inla had hung baskets full of wildflowers on the posts out front, twined with ivy and little strings of battery-run lights that blinked white.

The double doors had been thrown open, and voices spilled out, human and orc alike. Tourists wore Western-styled shirts and stiff cowboy boots and hats. Stopping in the opening, I took in the people settling on benches inside. My brothers milled among them, easy to pick out by their height.

Tark stood up front with Gracie, who had a clipboard in hand and a cheerful look on her face.

Hail had found a seat along the left aisle with Max, who had a book open on his lap.

Reading like he did during most of his free time.

That youngling sure was smart. Greel nodded when I caught his eye.

Dungar, in full sheriff getup, badge and all, stood near the back with a scowl on his face that was mostly for show.

Ostor and Ruugar leaned against the left wall, their arms crossed on their chests, keeping watch or pretending to.

We looked alike. Seven feet tall or close to it, medium green skin, dark eyes, pointed-tipped ears, and tusks. Like any other orc, weren’t easy to miss.

The barn looked great. Arched beams framed the ceiling, and long wooden benches stretched along either side of the aisle. Lanterns hung from wrought-iron hooks, flickering with warm electric light. Tall windows filtered in soft daylight that pooled on the plank floor.

At the front, a row of long tables held at least thirty picnic baskets, each one numbered with little tags. Some looked fussy and frilly, others plain and honest. Mine would land somewhere in the middle.

Holly worked up there, giving Gracie a raised brow and laughing at something Tark said.

She and Gracie both wore long dresses with various colored flowers, and I’d never seen anyone prettier than my mate.

She’d pulled her sunset hair up on the back of her head, though some strands had come free and kept getting in her face as she worked.

She kept chuffing out a breath, sending them upward before they resettled.

She looked like the sun had stopped just to follow her.

Max spotted me and waved. I lifted my hand back, the inside of my chest going soft.

Tightening my grip on my basket, I made my way along the right side of the barn, weaving between those still standing. When I reached the front table, Holly turned toward me with a grin.

“You’re here,” she said.

“Didn’t want to be late.” I held out my basket.

Her fingers brushed mine as she took it. She glanced inside, then up at me. “This looks suspiciously good.”

“It’d better be.”

“You trying to bribe the audience to bid high?”

I leaned in, sucking in her scent. “Trying to bribe you.”

Her cheeks pinked. She rolled her eyes like I’d said something ridiculous, but didn’t let go of the basket. I kissed her.

After, she drew back and gave me a look, but there was no heat behind it. “Stop being sweet in public. You’ll ruin your reputation.”

“The only opinion I care about is yours.” I watched her place the basket on the table, pinning a number to the front. I stayed right there as she straightened one basket and shifted another to make a bit more room.

She turned back, and her smile widened. “We’re starting soon.”

“Which means I need to take care of something.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

I took her hand and tugged her to the side, spinning her around away from me. Then I carefully took down her hair and wove it into a braid that trailed down her spine. Leaning forward, I kissed the weave.

She smiled over her shoulder. “You’re very good with this. Almost as good as your macerated strawberries.”

“You.” I kissed her nose while she grinned. “My kisses belong solely to you.”

“I appreciate it.”

“One more.” Turning her, I lifted her up and kissed her again, placing her back on her booted feet after, stroking her face while she looked up at me with that dazed look I adored. “I’ll go sit with Max and Hail.” I turned and headed for the open spot beside them.

I slid onto the bench beside Max, who looked great dressed in a button-up shirt and a leather vest that was huge on him and suspiciously looked like one of mine.

I loved that he’d raided my closet to find something authentic to wear.

Should’ve thought to bring him to the general store to pick up some items, and I’d do so soon now that I could see he wanted to fit in.

He adjusted his glasses with one finger and grinned up at me. “Your basket looks cool.”

“Thank you.” I paused, wondering how humans came up with their expressions. Cool meant good, not cold. Although, it could also mean cold.

Hit the sack. I’d heard Grannie Lil use that one. Why was violence included with sleeping? And the one that had made me hoot with laughter, cat got your tongue. Another Grannie phrase she’d used with my very quiet brother, Greel. Who’d keep furry pets who could remove your tongue?

“Did you make yinder zest scones for your basket?” Max asked.

Hail, sitting beyond him, lifted an inquiring brow my way.

“Not this time,” I said. “I’ll make a batch tomorrow for you if you’d like.”

Hail cleared his throat.

“And enough for my hungry brother,” I said with a smile.

“You spoil me, Sel,” Hail said.

Another odd thing to say. How could treating someone nice make them smell rancid? I didn’t actually want to find out.

Max pushed his glasses up again. “That would be so cool.”

More people dressed in Wild West gear filed in and sat on benches around us. Energy hummed through the air.

I leaned back and let it all sink in. The laughter, the rustle of skirts, the clink of spurs. Holly’s voice up front, calling out to Gracie.

All of it sounded like belonging. I hadn’t thought I’d ever find myself in such a wonderful position, not after my first mate and our youngling died. Not after years of feeling like I was meant to be useful but not loved outside of family.

Then Holly and Max stepped into my life, and suddenly, a full, happy life felt possible.

Tark shifted around beside the podium, pretending to be more serious than he probably felt.

Gracie swept past him, and Tark snagged her around the waist and pulled her close. She laughed and tried to wriggle away, but he caught her mouth with his and kissed her. People hooted and whistled.

When he lifted his head, she clung to his vest before stroking his cheek and stepping away to get back to work with pink cheeks and a grin that showed how pleased she was to be mated to my brother.

Tark peered at the clock mounted on the left wall. It was time. He cleared his throat and raised the gavel, banging it on the top of the podium. The sound bounced through the barn.

Voices slowed and a hush descended.

Max bumped my elbow. “Here we go,” he whispered, practically vibrating in his seat.

I smiled down at him and looked back toward the front.

Tark gave it another bang and leaned across the top, his voice carrying through the room. “Thanks for coming, all of you. We’re so happy to have you visiting with my brothers and I in Lonesome Creek, where the sorhoxes are extra friendly, and so are the orcs.”

A few people chuckled. Standing near the right wall with Holly, Gracie grinned and shook her head.

“Every basket you see on this table,” his arm swept in that direction, “was donated by someone who believes in supporting a just cause. All the proceeds are going straight to Bright Hope Animal Shelter. They’re expanding, adding new kennels, medical equipment, and larger outdoor runs for the dogs.

That means every dollar you spend gets barked at. ”

More laughs.

Tark grinned. “Let’s make this town proud, knowing those of you who bid big will get fed while doing it.” He raised the gavel again and brought it back down. “It’s time to start the auction.”