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Page 4 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc (Monsters of Saltford Bay #1)

Chapter Three

Cassidy

The bite of frost nips at my nose as I step out into the crisp morning air, my breath puffing in little clouds in front of me.

The streets of Saltford Bay are still waking up, the cobblestones slick with dew and glinting in the pale sunlight.

Seagulls cry overhead, swooping low over the rooftops, and the faint hum of chatter drifts from The Wandering Gnome diner just down the street.

I wrap my fingers tighter around my to-go cup of cardamom honey latte, the warmth seeping through the knit of my gloves.

It’s the third one I’ve had this week and I know I can’t really afford it, but I can’t help myself.

That gnome lady is a genius for thinking of mixing honey and spicy cardamom. She deserves a medal.

And I need the sale of that house to go through.

It’s the last tie remaining from my old life and the only money I’m seeking from the divorce.

I don’t need anything else from him, just my half of the house we bought together.

The house where he betrayed me and shattered my heart in a million pieces.

Why won’t Jason sign the damned papers? We’ve agreed on this for months and we’re so close to finally being done with each other, I can almost taste freedom.

The to-do list keeps running through my head like a broken record.

I've done some work in the five days since moving into the Saltwater Lodge, but it's been mainly reduced to cleaning, although I did hire a small crew to tear off the old carpets and haul away the molding mattresses and sofas.

It felt oddly satisfying, walking in the place once the leftovers from the past were gone.

Still, the sheer amount of work needed to make the inn ready for the next tourist season is enough to make my brain feel fuzzy.

Plumbing. Flooring. Windows.

And the kitchen. Oh God, the kitchen. The stove is older than I am and I still don't have a refrigerator. At least I scrubbed the dust, crusts, and mouse droppings from the cupboards with enough bleach to annihilate all life forms on Earth. But I still need to buy groceries and fill those shelves.

This is what I'll do next. I take a sip of my latte and sigh, the flavors dancing on my tongue. I need a functioning kitchen. I can’t keep living off takeout and Pop-tarts. But if that sale doesn’t go through, I won’t have enough to even start the renovations .

The thought is like a bucket of cold seawater dumped over my head. I stop walking for a moment, letting the reality of it settle in. I'll have to keep a serious hold on my expenses until the money is free and clear in my account.

But first things first, I have to find good, reliable help.

My gaze drifts up, catching on a lavender-painted storefront a few steps ahead. Tiny fairy lights twinkle around the arched windows, and ivy vines climb the sides like they’ve been growing there for centuries.

Primrose Pristine Home Decor reads the hand-painted sign above the door, the letters curling elegantly like the shop is inviting me in for tea.

“Well, if that isn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” I whisper to myself. My feet are already moving toward it before my brain can catch up.

Inside, a little bell above the door chimes softly as I step across the threshold. The air shifts instantly, warmer, cozier. I’m hit with the soothing scent of lavender and cedarwood, like stepping into the world’s most welcoming hug.

The shop is a maze of beautifully curated rooms, each one more enchanting than the last. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, catching on crystal chandeliers and making everything glitter softly.

Shelves and tables overflow with treasures—plush velvet cushions, hand-carved wooden trinkets, and mirrors that seem to glow faintly, as if they’re reflecting more than just the room around them.

I trail my fingers over a gleaming console table, its wood polished to perfection. Intricate carvings swirl along the edges, depicting climbing vines and flowers, so detailed they almost seem alive .

“Whoever made this,” I whisper, crouching to get a closer look, “is a genius.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to pass along the compliment.”

The voice startles me so badly I nearly knock my latte over.

I whip around to find a petite woman standing a few feet away.

Well, petite is an understatement. The woman can't be more than four feet tall and boasts translucent lavender-and-silver wings that shimmer faintly in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

A pixie , I reflect before blinking away and looking down at my coffee cup.

No one likes to be stared at and I don't want to seem rude, but I've never met a pixie before.

Sure, there are Others in Portland, but they are still a rarity, even four decades after the Rift opened and they joined our world.

Most Others prefer to live closer to nature and away from the concrete jungle of the big city.

Her delicate, angular features pull into an inviting smile as brilliant violet eyes set on me with polite interest. Her silvery hair is pinned up in a sleek chignon, accentuating her delicate features, and exposing two very long, fluted ears that end in sharp points.

"Welcome to Primrose Pristine Home Decor," she says warmly.

I blink, still trying to get over the fact that I’ve just met an actual pixie. It’s definitively something I’ll need to tell Silvia about.

"Thank you," I reply. "Your shop is absolutely enchanting."

"Oh, thank you very much, dear." Her violet eyes sparkle and I get the feeling that not much escapes her gaze. "We don't get many visitors this time of year. Are you visiting Saltford Bay for long?"

Do I have a flashing sign that says outsider above my head?

I blink again, surprised. Then I smile, realizing I’m just not used to small towns. In a town like Saltford Bay, everyone must know everyone and I’m a new face in a familiar place. Back in Portland, no one bothers to know their neighbors.

“Actually, I just moved here,” I manage, keeping my smile on my face. “But you're right that I'm new to town. Is it that obvious?”

The pixie lady chuckles, the sound light and musical, like wind chimes in a breeze. I’m definitively calling Silvia later.

"Evelyn Primrose," she says, extending a tiny hand my way. "But please just call me Evelyn."

"It's lovely to meet you, Evelyn. I'm Cassidy Perkins," I say, shaking her surprisingly strong hand.

“I used to be an interior designer a long time ago.” I gesture to the shop and its content. “You have wonderful taste.”

Her smile widens, a touch of pride glinting in her violet eyes, and I swear she ruffles her wings like a bird preening at the compliment.

“Why, thank you. I’ve always said a home should feel like a sanctuary. A little whimsy hurt no one, either.”

“Whimsy is definitely underrated,” I agree, feeling more and more comfortable in her presence. The older lady has a calm, cheerful attitude that makes me think of my grandmother.

“And what brings you to Saltford Bay?” she asks, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "We don't get many new residents to town, although they are thoroughly welcome, of course."

I hesitate, but not for long. There's something about her that makes me want to share. Besides, I need to make new friends if I'm going to live here.

“I just bought the Saltwater Lodge. I moved in a few days ago. ”

Her eyebrows lift slightly, and I can almost feel the excitement coming off her in waves as the tips of her wings twitch like a bunny's nose. It's adorable.

“The Saltwater Lodge? My, that’s quite the undertaking. It’s been sitting empty for years. Poor Mrs. Bennings couldn't keep up with the place once her husband passed. She was a lovely orc lady. That inn used to be the pride and joy of the town, you know?”

“I can see that being true,” I admit with a small laugh. “It needs a lot of work, but it’s got so much potential.”

“And here I thought we’d reached our quota of ambitious dreamers,” Evelyn teases gently. “But I admire your vision. Still, this will be a lot of work for you and your husband.”

Violet eyes drift to my left hand, still holding the latte. The left hand without a wedding band.

I blush, then shake my head. "No husband. It's just me, I'm afraid."

I need a subject change, pronto.

I glance back at the console table, running my fingers over the carvings again.

“That's a beautiful piece. It looks like an old masterpiece, but it's not an antique, is it?”

Evelyn Primrose's mouth perks into a tiny smile as her shrewd eyes assess me. I have no problem believing that underneath her rosy attitude, she is a fierce businesswoman.

“That would be Gerralt Banesman’s work,” she says, a touch of pride in her voice.

“He’s the best craftsman I ever met. He's also a skilled carpenter.

If you don't already have a contractor lined up, he would be my best recommendation for your Saltwater Lodge renovation.

He's a bit of a character, but he's as honest as they come and his work has no equal.”

I could use an honest man .

“Do you think he'd be interested in taking on a project the size of the Saltwater Lodge?” I ask, trying to keep the hope out of my voice. "It's not going to be fast or easy."

“Oh, I'm sure he will,” she says, nodding her head firmly.

“He built his house with his own two hands a few years ago, and it's the loveliest cottage in the county. He was just here the other day, complaining about the lack of work during the offseason. Though you may find him… challenging to work with, shall we say?”

And there comes the catch. There's always a catch.

“Challenging how?”

She waves a hand, the motion graceful and dismissive.

“Oh, Gerralt’s harmless. Just a bit grumpy. He lives out near Blackwood Forest and keeps to himself most of the time. I think he enjoys being difficult, if you want my opinion.”

I bite back a smile. “Sounds like a delight.”

Not.

“But you should know he’s a perfectionist,” she says, her tone softening. “A true artist. He’ll put his heart into whatever he does for you. Your only challenge will be to drag him out of his workshop.”

I straighten my shoulders, a flicker of determination sparking in my chest.

“I’m not afraid of a challenge,” I say firmly. It's a big fat lie, but I'm not about to admit to it, not even to myself.

I'm the new and improved Cassie. And the new and improved Cassie doesn't back down from a challenge, grumpy carpenter or not .

“Good.” Evelyn Primrose’s smile shifts. There’s something knowing and almost mischievous curling at the edges of her expression. I get the flickering thought that she planned this entire conversation, but of course, it's just me being silly.

Evelyn Primrose writes down the directions to this Gerralt Banesman's cottage on a piece of scented paper and hands it to me.

Then I thank her and promise to come back soon.

As I step out of the shop and back into the crisp morning air, the sun casts a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone streets.

From here, I can see the distant edge of Blackwood Forest, its trees tall and dark against the horizon. Somewhere out there is Gerralt Banesman, the man who might just help me breathe life back into the Saltwater Lodge.

I clutch my empty latte cup, the remnants of cardamom and honey lingering on my tongue. My heart beats a little faster as I start walking again, my scarf fluttering in the breeze.

I’ve already come this far. What’s one more leap of faith?

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