Page 8 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc (Monsters of Saltford Bay #1)
Chapter Six
Cassidy
I feel like my organs are about to dissolve inside my body and my brain might just melt inside my skull. I grip my pen tighter as Bogdan Ashvale looms over the small table where we've spread out his paperwork, his massive frame nearly blocking out the light.
The orc contractor showed up at my door this morning with a folder full of estimates and a smile that's just a little too wide. The kind of smile that doesn't reach his eyes. But maybe it's just me and he's simply a helpful man trying to prevent a disaster.
Maybe Gerralt Banesman was right after all. Maybe I really have no idea what I'm doing.
Sunlight streams through the bay windows, casting long shadows across the newly cleaned foyer floors of the Saltwater Lodge.
The scent of lavender and lemon cleaner lingers in the air, a small victory from my cleaning rampage over the past week.
At least I can say I know how to wield a mop, even if my life choices seem questionable at best lately.
"Look, sweetheart." Bogdan taps a thick finger against one of the many documents scattered across the surface.
"You've got asbestos in your walls, lead in your pipes, and a foundation that's barely holding firm.
If you think cutting corners now will save you money in the long run, you're dreaming.
This place is a lawsuit waiting to happen. "
My stomach churns as I stare at the figures on the page. The numbers blur together, making my head spin.
"It's just that I didn't think the condition of the building was this bad.
" That's the understatement of the decade.
The final number at the bottom of his contract is three times what I budgeted for the inn's complete renovation.
I would have to borrow a massive amount just to tide me over until spring.
And that's if there's no surprise when he finally gets started.
I really need Jason to sign those papers now. I won’t even be able to pay the deposit on the repairs without it.
"Are you sure all of this is necessary? I mean, none of this is shown in the inspection report."
His mottled green face splits into what I assume is meant to be a reassuring grin, but it only serves to make me shift with discomfort in my seat.
He hovers closer and passes his tongue over his chipped right tusk, so close to me now that his breath fans my face.
I lean away from him, wishing he would just back off and give me time to think clearly.
"Do I look like a man who sugarcoats things?" He shakes his head and pushes the contract toward me, like the proximity of the paper will magically make me sign it. "Trust me on this. You'll thank me later when this place isn't crumbling under your feet."
The detailed estimate and referral list he gave me are designed to soothe my doubts, but something about all this sets my teeth on edge. Still, what choice do I have? The lodge needs work, and he's the only contractor who's shown any interest.
"Can I get back to you in a few days?" I ask, tapping my pen against the contract. "This is a big decision, and I'd like to review everything carefully. Maybe get a few other estimates."
"My schedule fills up quick this time of year.
Lots of folks wanting work done before tourist season.
" Bogdan leans forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the papers.
His yellow eyes fix on me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
"Between you and me, most contractors in town would take advantage of a sweet little lady like yourself. I'm giving you a fair deal here."
I open my mouth to tell him that I really cannot make this decision right now. Or that I don’t have the funds at all. I’m not sure what I’m about to tell him.
Because I don’t get to say anything.
The rumble of a truck engine drifts up the driveway, pulling my attention away from the stack of papers Bogdan keeps pushing toward me.
I rise from my chair and move to the window.
Through the long glass panes, I watch a black pickup roll to a stop beside my battered old Honda.
The driver's door swings open and the orc who’s been plaguing my nights unfolds his massive frame from the cab.
The late afternoon sun catches on his dark hair as he strides toward the lodge, gravel crunching beneath his heavy work boots.
Great. Just what I need right now.
Before I can process what's happening, the front door swings open, and he steps inside.
Gerralt Banesman fills the doorway with his presence.
He wears a clean flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves, exposing his powerful forearms and nicely fitted jeans that show how muscular his thighs are.
His amber eyes lock on Bogdan with laser focus.
I fight the urge to fan myself. Seriously, it should be illegal to look that good and that grumpy at the same time.
"Gerralt? What are you doing here?" My voice is high-pitched and I wince at how whiny I sound.
"Princess, I hope you didn't sign anything this vulture gave you to sign." Gerralt's low voice cuts through the tension like a knife.
"I don't recall this being any of your business, Banesman." Bogdan's words come out in a snarl and he crosses his arms over his bulging stomach.
Gerralt strides over to the table, his fingers brushing lightly over the papers. His eyes narrow as he scans the figures. I stand there, silent and still as a statue.
"Asbestos, huh? Funny, since I can personally attest that Mrs. Bennings had it remediated years ago. Town hall has the permits to prove it." His gaze flicks to me, then to another document. "And lead pipes? These are galvanized steel."
Bogdan's face darkens. "You think you're an expert on every building in Saltford Bay? "
“I think I know a con man when I see one.” Gerralt leans over the table, bracing his arms on the wood, his voice dropping to a growl that sends shivers down my spine.
“And you? You've got snake oil written all over you. I bet you didn’t even tell Cassidy here that this building used to belong to your aunt?”
"Wait a minute." I turn to Bogdan, my voice sharper than before. "This building used to be in your family? Then you should know about the asbestos, shouldn’t you?"
"Listen, sweetheart ," Bogdan emphasizes the word as his yellow eyes narrow, making me grit my teeth.
"You're not qualified to interpret those kinds of reports and my aunt wasn’t exactly the kind of lady to upkeep a big place like that in her old age.
Everything I told you is true. You can take my word for it. "
He lifts his chin and shifts his weight, tugging at his stained overalls as I glare at him.
"And the foundation issues?" My fingers curl into fists. "Where exactly is this structural damage you mentioned?"
His jaw works beneath his skin, tusks gleaming as he forces a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Now, don't you worry your pretty little head about the technical details."
Heat rises to my cheeks as understanding dawns. I've been played for a fool. Again.
"Get out." The words burst from my mouth and I feel proud of how steady my voice is. "Now."
Bogdan's face twists into an ugly snarl, his chipped tusks catching the late afternoon light.
He snatches up his papers with enough force to make the rickety table wobble, sending my untouched coffee mug dancing precariously close to the edge.
The floorboards creak under his heavy stomping, and the front door slams with enough force to rattle the newly cleaned windows.
A moment later, his truck engine roars to life, gravel spraying as he peels out of the driveway.
I turn to Gerralt, crossing my arms over my chest to hide how badly my hands are shaking. The adrenaline from the confrontation still courses through my veins, making my heart race.
“I’m not some charity case for your savior complex,” I choke out, my voice squeaking like a mouse. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
I know full well how ungrateful that sounds, but it’s true.
He shrugs those massive shoulders, the movement causing his flannel shirt to pull tight across his chest. Despite his casual posture, tension radiates from every line of his body.
"You needed it anyway."
"Fine. You've made your point." I blow out a frustrated breath, catching the lingering scent of pine that seems to follow him everywhere.
My stomach does a funny little flip that I absolutely refuse to acknowledge.
"But I still need someone to help me, and you've already made it clear you're not interested. What am I supposed to do now?"
Gerralt goes quiet, his amber eyes studying me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. The silence stretches between us until I squirm, shifting my weight from one foot to another. When he finally speaks, his deep voice sends a shiver down my spine.
"I've changed my mind. I'll do it."
I blink in surprise, certain I've misheard. "Really? Just like that?"
"Not just like that, Princess." His jaw sets in a stubborn line, those impressive tusks making him look even more intimidating. A muscle ticks in his cheek as he crosses his massive arms over his chest. The movement sends a fresh wave of butterflies in my stomach. "I've got conditions."
That can't be good.
"What kind of conditions?" I narrow my eyes, fighting the urge to step back. Even with several feet between us, his presence fills the room like a gathering storm and I feel like a scurrying little animal in front of him. Not the boss lady I intend to be.
He lifts one hand in front of my face, his index finger extended.
"One: I do things my way. No questions, no micromanaging. Whatever I say goes." Part of me bristles at his commanding tone, but I bite my tongue and don't respond. He lifts a second finger. "Two: you stay out of my way. I don't need to worry about you breaking your pretty little neck while I work."
Pretty little neck, huh? I try not to care that he called me pretty, but it's too late.
The butterflies in my stomach stage a riot and I'm their victim.
Still, I lift my eyebrows and brace my hands on my hips, trying to project more confidence than I feel.
My fingers fidget with the hem of my blouse.
"Is that all?"
"Not quite." A hint of something almost like amusement flickers in his eyes, softening his stern expression for just a moment.
"Evelyn Primrose told me you used to be some kind of fancy interior designer in the city.
I'll work everything within your budget and in return, you find me buyers for my furniture.
You take my work to those fancy shops you probably know about, so I don't have to deal with city folks myself. "
I hesitate, weighing my options. His terms feel invasive, reminding me too much of how Jason always needed to control everything.
I didn't come here to give up control to another man.
But as my gaze sweeps over the peeling wallpaper and worn floors, the enormity of what I've taken on crashes over me again.
The lodge needs someone who knows what they're doing, someone honest.
Someone like this sexy, grumpy, intimidating orc.
"You've got yourself a deal." My heart pounds against my ribs as I make my decision. “If you stop calling me Princess.”
I extend my hand, and after staring at it for just a heartbeat too long, he takes it.
His palm engulfs mine, rough and warm, his calloused fingers a testament to years of working with wood.
The contact sends an unexpected jolt through my body, like static electricity but deeper, more primal.
His grip is firm but gentle, and he holds on just a fraction longer than necessary, long enough for me to notice how perfectly my smaller hand fits within his.
"I'll be here tomorrow at sunup," he says. "Be ready, Princess."
I watch him leave, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the fading light. My hand still tingles where he touched it.
Still a jerk.