Page 10 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc (Monsters of Saltford Bay #1)
Chapter Eight
Cassidy
My neck feels like it's been put through a meat grinder, and my shoulders aren't any better.
The air mattress betrayed me again last night, deflating slowly until I woke up practically on the floor, tangled in a mess of thin, scratchy blankets.
Between that and the draft from the plastic-covered window, I barely slept.
I brace my hands on the countertop as my newly purchased coffee machine drips steadily. I still don't have a refrigerator, so I'll have to do with the disgusting fake milk powder to get my morning started.
Ugh. At least, Gerralt takes his coffee black so he won't have to deal with this.
I allow myself to feel deflated for just a moment longer.
It's not that I want to ignore the mountain of work that waits for me or all the way my dreams could turn to ashes in my mouth.
I can't afford to fail, simply put. So I don't allow myself to think about failure.
If I do, I'm afraid it'll swallow me whole, like a dark mouth closing around my soul.
Okay, Cassie. Enough of this. I mentally shake myself like a dog. You have a long day ahead of you.
I press my fingers to the back of my neck, kneading the sore muscles as my phone buzzes. Silvia's name flashes across the screen, and I can't help but smile as I answer, leaning against the chipped counter.
"How's the renovation going?" Silvia asks, not bothering with a proper greeting. "Do you share a bed with a family of raccoons yet?"
I giggle at her tone and it lifts my entire spirit. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear her voice.
"Guess what? I'm picking paint samples today!" I squeal. "I think I'm going with a sage-green kitchen, but I'm not sure yet."
"Ooh, progress!" Silvia croons over the constant buzz of the city in the morning. I can picture her, walking with her phone pressed to her ear, holding to her Pumpkin Spice latte, dressed to kill even at this hour. "Tell me more. Don’t be shy."
"Well, the rusted eyesore that was the old stove is gone, and I'm actually going appliance shopping today. With any luck, I'll have both a new stove and refrigerator delivered by the end of the week. No more microwave dinners for this chick. "
Silvia scoffs into the receiver and I don't need to see her scrunched-up face to know what she thinks of microwave dinners and air mattresses. My bestie is not one to rough it up.
"And how's the hunky orc helping with all this?" Her tone is teasing. "All green and sexy? I’ve heard orcs are amazing lovers. They don’t stop until their woman gets what she needs. Multiple times."
"Silvia!" I feel my cheeks heat up. "Gerralt's just doing his job."
And looking mighty fine doing it. But I don't say that. If I say that, I'll never hear the end of it with Silvia.
"Honey, I'm calling because you texted me, promising details about your sexy contractor, and I've waited long enough!" Silvia's laugh radiates through the speaker. "Now give me all the juicy details or I'll jump in my car right now and you won't be rid of me until you tell me everything."
"Nothing is happening between Gerralt and me!" I protest, but I can hear it in my voice and I know Silvia heard it, too. I have it bad for the grump and it's the simple truth. "He's, well, he's grumpy and bossy and—"
"Mm-hmm." Silvia hums in triumph. "And the way your voice gets all breathy when you say his name is just a coincidence?"
She giggles and the tips of my ears burn.
"I do not get all breathy," I deny, knowing full well she's right. And I almost hang up on her for it, but I know she’ll make good on her threat and come harass me here if I do.
"Come on, Cassie," Silvia interrupts. "The man swooped in to save you from that scamming contractor, then immediately offered to help fix up your place. He's interested. "
I glance over at the stack of granola bars and instant noodle packets I've been living off of, my stomach twisting.
I try my best to ignore the tiny spark of happiness in my gut at the idea that Silvia might be right about this, but I squash it down.
I don't need that kind of complication in my life.
"He's just being nice."
"Nice? Honey, men are never just nice. If they're protective, that means they're interested. I've even heard that orcs get especially horny in the fall and winter when their urges to mate are at their strongest."
"Silvia…" I frown at her words. For some reason, I don't like her speaking of Gerralt or orcs like that. "You shouldn't say things like that."
"What?" she scoffs. "All I'm saying is that after all you went through with Jason, you could use a good rumble in the sack with a big, broody green orc.
God knows any man would be lucky to have someone like you interested in them.
" Her voice softens. "You deserve someone who looks at you and sees how amazing you are. "
"And that's why I love you," I tell her, my gratitude at her ever-cheerful words almost choking me.
The rumble of a truck engine cuts through our conversation.
"I have to go," I say quickly. "He's here."
"Perfect timing! Remember what I said. You're a catch, Cassidy Perkins."
I hang up, my face burning. The rumble of Gerralt’s truck gets closer, and I walk to the large bay window to see him arrive.
As soon as I glimpse his olive-green face behind the windshield, my stomach does a funny little twist and sets my nerves on edge.
There's no denying how attracted I am to him.
I just have to glance at his large hands, rough and strong, to imagine how they would feel on my body.
And the way those tusks gleam, making his full, hard lips appear even thicker when he frowns.
Yeah. Maybe all the squirming on my air mattress from last night was more because I kept thinking of Gerralt's lips and hands.
Orcs get horny in the fall and winter. It's their mating urges. Silvia's words come back to me and it's not helping.
That funny little twist in my stomach turns into a flood of heat when Gerralt gets out of his truck.
Even from this distance, I can see his frown as he walks to the back of his truck, like he has a personal grudge with whatever waits for him in the truck bed.
The way those arms move in his perpetual flannel shirt is enough to make my mouth dry, and then there's that ass, large and round and so powerful…
Jeez! Down, girl! I shake my head, tearing my eyes from Gerralt's ass as my cheeks burn up. It's surprising I don't look like a roasted turkey by now.
I glance out the window again, the mug warming my hands as he pulls away the big blue blanket hiding whatever cargo he's hauling. I expect to see building tools and supplies, maybe lumber, but instead, what I see leaves me speechless.
What in the world?
My jaw nearly drops when I spot him wrestling a wooden bed frame out of the truck bed, his massive hands gripping the polished wood like it weighs nothing.
Putting the mug on the counter, I hurry to the door.
The morning air is crisp, and the vegetation is covered in a gleaming layer of frost. Frost clings to the porch railing, and I wipe my hands on my jeans as I step outside, careful not to snag my socks on the splintering wood .
The sun’s just cresting the horizon, casting warm golds and soft pinks across the sky. It should be a peaceful scene. But my heart’s pounding as I watch Gerralt maneuver what looks like a full bedroom set onto the gravel driveway.
“What are you doing?” I call out, squinting at him.
He doesn’t bother looking at me, his wide shoulders hunched as he angles the frame toward the porch. His jeans stretch taut against his thighs as he straightens and hefts it higher, and I can't help it as my wandering gaze catches on his rounded ass again.
“You can't keep sleeping on an air mattress,” he grunts. “Or live out of suitcases.”
I blink, trying to process that.
“What?” But already, that funny twist in my stomach is turning into a full-blown hurricane.
"Gran had this set sitting in her garage." He jerks his chin toward the wood in his arms. “She's glad to have the space back.”
I fold my arms over my chest, heat rising to my face. The furniture is heavy and obviously high quality. It's not something I have the budget for. “I didn’t ask you for this.”
“Didn’t ask for your opinion.” His tone is flat, like the discussion’s already over.
He trudges past me, up the creaking steps, and my porch groans in protest under his weight. The bed frame gleams in the soft light, the rich wood polished enough to reflect the sunrise.
I follow him as he ducks through the doorway, my bare feet padding against the floors.
“You didn’t have to do this. Really. I’m fine—”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.” He sets the frame down with a thud that makes the walls rattle.
His amber eyes flick to the now deflated air mattress, then to me.
His gaze is steady and unreadable. “But you’re not sleeping on that crappy air mattress another night.
Doesn’t matter if you think you’re fine. I won't have it and that's it.”
My words catch in my throat. No one's ever done something like this for me before.
No one ever noticed what I needed and just, well, just provided it.
Without me asking, without making me feel small for needing help.
His gruffness should put me off, but there's an undercurrent of genuine concern in his actions that makes my chest feel tight in a way I'm not ready to examine too closely.
"Wait," I call out as he turns to leave again. "How much do I owe you for all of this?"
"Nothing." His response is immediate and firm, not even breaking his stride as he maneuvers the dresser into position. "I told you already. Gran had it in her garage."