Page 9 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy (Brides of the Lonesome Creek Orcs #3)

Holly

A fter retrieving a saddle that Max carried, and securing a harness over Brelar’s head, Sel opened the creature’s gate and gestured for the beast to follow him outside. We followed, Max shutting the barn door once we were through.

Brelar plodded over to the side of the barn calmly while Max gaped in awe at the sorhox, and I gaped in awe at Sel. He was so…strong. Kind. Thoughtful. And a lot of other adjectives I didn’t want to think about too much. Gorgeous being one.

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of him and the life he was offering us here. It felt like a dream, and I’d long since learned dreams exploded much too quickly.

I’d trust him for now, but I’d be a fool to let down my guard around him completely. Anyone could start out nice and swiftly turn mean.

After securing the harness over Brelar’s head, Sel dropped the reins on the ground, and Brelar remained in place.

“Very well trained,” I said in admiration.

Color rose up Sel’s neck and landed in his pointy-tipped ears, and he flashed a tusky smile my way.

“Thank you. I’ve done a lot of training with the beasts we planned to bring to the surface.

We had to make sure this would be a safe adventure for humans, that the odds of anyone getting hurt were slim.

We have insurance, naturally, but we don’t care much about the liability of it all.

We want this to be a fun place to visit and everyone to leave in the same shape they were in when they arrived. ”

That placated me a bit when it came to the thought of Max riding a sorhox alone.

“Come on over and meet him,” Sel said, gesturing to both of us. “He won’t bite.”

“He has long fangs,” I said. I wasn't one bit afraid, but we were talking about a creature the size of an elephant. Maybe bigger. I'd never met an elephant in real life. “And claws.”

“As long as he doesn't see you as a threat, he won't use them.” The patience in this male's voice… It soothed me in a way nothing else ever had. I wasn't sure what to make of my growing feelings for Sel, so I told myself to ignore them.

Max shuffled closer and after Sel nodded, he brushed Brelar’s left side. “He’s warm.”

I joined them, holding my hand out for Brelar to sniff. That's what horses did, right?

“They like it when you stroke behind their ears,” Sel said. “I do too.” More color flooded his face, and he mumbled something that I swore sounded like, “I didn't say that.”

But he had, and those simple words made my heart flip over.

I can't get involved, I told myself over and over as I went to Brelar's side.

When he bent forward, I still had to stand on my tiptoes to scratch behind his ears.

He had to lower his head even more, and that told me that he really did enjoy it.

Max took the other side, and we soon had Brelar groaning with pleasure, his spiked tail swishing back and forth.

“His fur is soft,” I said, stroking the side of his neck to his shoulder. “Do you use any special oil on them to keep it that way?”

Sel shook his head. “Just claw oil to keep their hooves in good condition. This is them in their usual state, though we do groom them daily.”

Once Sel had saddled Brelar, instructing Max in a patient voice while my son helped, he stepped back onto the path leading to the barn. “I’ll call Zist.”

Tipping his head back, he cupped his mouth and released a low, “whoop, whoop, whoop” sound into the air.

Thunder rang out, echoing down Main Street.

Max and I shared a startled look.

A few tourists stopped what they were doing and peered our way, even a few venturing closer with their phones out to take pictures. They must think the next performance was about to get started, and who could blame them? I was beginning to suspect something like that myself.

Pinching Max’s sleeve, I tugged him backward until we stood in the shadow of the barn. We then moved well away from Sel, the object of everyone’s attention because he was one of the orc owners. Let them take videos and pictures of him, not us.

The thunder grew louder.

A riderless sorhox rounded the far end of the barn at full speed, a blur of green muscle and enormous horns. This must be Zist, Sel's personal sorhox. Dirt flew with each step, and when he came to a quick stop in front of Sel, a cloud of dirt followed, soon swept away by the wind.

Gasps filled the air from those watching.

Several tourists stumbled backward, pressing themselves against the closest building, clutching their phones in their hands.

One woman shrieked and grabbed her child, scooting around a park bench as if that would stop a beast the size of this sorhox.

It would plow it over with two stomps. The sound of sandals slapping wood made it clear some tourists had decided now was a good time to get a beer at the saloon or go shopping.

Sel didn’t flinch. He reached out and stroked the creature's long snout.

I pressed closer to Max. “Stay with me until Sel calls us over.”

“I’m not scared,” he whispered, though his eyes were huge.

I kind of was. Maybe. I wasn't sure. The creature looked like he could break a wall in half with a nudge of his shoulder.

Sel scratched under the beast’s jaw like he was greeting a cat, not a creature that could take out a car with one shove. “You feel the shift in weather too, huh? It’s going to be hot tomorrow.”

Zist rubbed his massive cheek across Sel’s side, almost knocking him over.

“Easy, boy,” he said with a smile that made my knees go weak.

Sel turned our way, his fingers still stroking Zist’s snout.

He completely ignored the tourists, though only a few lingered, making cooing sounds, some pointing.

Others filming. “Zist was my first sorhox. I raised him from the time he was weaned.”

There was love in the way he looked at that beast. Real love. And when Zist leaned in again, Sel braced a hand on his shoulder and chuckled. “He’s dramatic, loves to make an entrance.”

“He’s so cool,” Max said.

I nodded. So was the orc standing with him.

Sel acted with incredible care. Not only with Zist, but with Max.

Me too. Even his voice held warmth all the time, and it wrapped around me like safe walls built from nothing but kindness.

His sweetness stirred feelings I wasn’t ready for.

A longing I’d buried so deep I didn’t recognize it until now.

This was a crush—so I told myself. It would fade soon.

Or would it?

Since it must appear that nothing more exciting was going to happen, the tourists left.

Sel gestured for us to join him. “I’ll help Max mount.”

“I’ll ride with him?” I asked, though I suspected I knew the answer already.

“You’re with me.” Sel didn’t meet my eyes. “Zist is older. Bigger. He’s been trained to carry more than one person while Brelar’s not quite there yet. If you’re with me, I’ll make sure you don’t fall. That’s not something Max can offer.”

“How far do we have to travel?” I asked.

“Fifteen minutes or so. We built our homes on the western side of town.”

Me riding with Sel was a practical solution outside of me riding my own sorhox, which wouldn’t make sense for fifteen minutes.

I gave him a nod.

His posture loosened. Had he worried I’d balk about the riding arrangements?

Sel led Brelar over to a small wooden block near the front of the barn, with Max following. Once he’d climbed on, the block was just tall enough for Max to swing a leg over Brelar’s broad back without tumbling off the other side.

“Step up. Grip the back ridge,” Sel said calmly. Max did as instructed with a studious look on his face. My son was serious about everything, and I loved him more than anything. “That’s it. Balance with your knees. He’s got girth, but he’s steady.”

Max adjusted his seat. Sat taller. His mouth opened in amazement.

“He’ll stay with Zist automatically,” Sel said. “But if you press behind his left shoulder with your heel, he’ll turn left. Same for right. Don’t kick—just apply soft pressure.”

“Got it.” Max beamed like Sel had handed him the keys to a spaceship.

His joy made my throat sting. When had he last been excited about anything outside a new book? Too long.

“I'm going to have him follow me around in the yard.” Sel settled both of Max's feet in the stirrups. “Hold onto the horn and move with Brelar. Get a feel for it before we start toward my place.” His gaze sought Max's. “Are you alright with that?”

“I am.” Pure joy came through in my son’s voice.

Sel strode to Brelar's head and patted the beast's snout before making a clicking sound in his throat and moving away from the sorhox. Brelar placidly followed him in a small loop around me and Zist, who watched the other sorhox with what I swore was complete boredom.

Finally, they came to a stop near me.

“Do you feel alright riding him now?” Sel asked my son, who nodded eagerly.

“I'm ready,” Max said with a big grin.

Sel turned to me. “How about you? Are you ready?”

“Yup.”

Before I could think about how this would go, Sel's big hands spanned my waist. A quick, effortless lift, and I was sitting on Zist's warm, clean hide. I settled my legs along his sides, gripped the spike jutting up between his shoulders, and took in the world from this viewpoint with amazement.

No saddle. No stirrups. Nothing but me on top of a horned beast that could swallow three tourists in a single bite.

Max clapped. “Looking good, Mom. Looking good!”

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a smile.

Sel looped our bags over Brelar’s spine spike before coming around to Zist's left side. He leaped up behind me in one fluid motion, all quiet muscle and too-warm presence. His thighs bracketed mine. One arm came around my middle, his palm resting lightly above my right hip.

“Just to steady you,” he said, his voice low and rough in my ear.

He smelled like vanilla, but I suppose he would. I probably did too.

But no one should smell that nice. Not while touching my hip and breathing over my shoulder.

I sat straighter. Too straight. My spine forgot how to bend.