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Page 9 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc (Monsters of Saltford Bay #1)

Chapter Seven

Gerralt

Why did I get involved in this mess, again? Oh, yeah, my Gran and her meddling friends set me up for this.

The sun hasn't cleared the horizon when I pull up to the Saltwater Lodge. Dawn paints the weathered siding in soft gold, making the old siding look almost charming. Almost. My breath fogs in the crisp morning air as I get out of my truck and grab my toolbox from the truck bed.

I bet she's still in bed. That's what city folks do, right? Sleep in late, drink overpriced coffee, and pretend manual labor is beneath them. Not that I care. Better if she stays out of my way.

I feel a twinge of guilt at my judgmental thought, but it's tempered by the sight of a sapling pushing through the wood of the front porch. This job will be a real pain in my ass, I can feel it. I get out of my truck and grab my toolbox in the back, then turn to face the Saltwater Lodge again.

As I climb the short flight of steps to the front door, careful not to put my weight on a rotten plank, I expect to find the lodge baked in darkness.

The door swings open before my boots hit the last step.

Cassidy stands in the doorway, dressed in worn jeans and an oversized purple t-shirt that slips off one shoulder, revealing a disturbingly creamy shoulder.

My throat squeezes and my cock stirs annoyingly at the sight of it and I have to force my gaze away.

Her auburn hair's pulled high in a ponytail, loose strands framing her face.

Despite the shadows under her eyes, her whole face lights up when she sees me.

"Good morning!" She holds up a cardboard tray with two steaming cups and a paper bag that smells like heaven. "Coffee? Muffin?"

I narrow my eyes. "You're up early."

"Of course! Big day. Lots to do." She bounces on her toes, making the coffee slosh dangerously.

"Do you take cream and sugar or are you more of a 'black as my soul' kind of guy?

It doesn't matter. I have both for you. I also got you blueberry muffins from The Wandering Gnome.

Mathilda told me they're your favorites. "

My jaw tightens. Of course, she's already been chatting with Mathilda. Probably the whole damn town knows I'm working here by now.

"Black's fine," I grunt, following her inside, trying not to look at her round ass swinging from side to side as she walks in front of me.

Trying and failing.

The foyer stretches out before us, high ceilings disappearing into shadow. Cassidy sets the coffee and muffins on a rickety side table, then spins to face me with her hands clasped together.

The coffee is bitter on my tongue as I take another sip, watching Cassidy flutter around the foyer like a hummingbird on crack.

The blueberry muffin sits half-eaten in my other hand, forgotten as she points out yet another architectural detail I'm impressed she noticed.

For a city girl, she sure knows her way around what's valuable in an old building like that.

"The crown molding is gorgeous, right? Just look at that detail work." She stretches up on her tiptoes, gesturing at the ornate trim with both hands. Her ponytail bounces with the movement. Her breasts, too. "And these windows. Once we replace the old glass, the view will be stunning."

I grunt noncommittally and take another bite of muffin, using it as an excuse not to respond.

My eyes track the water stains spreading across the ceiling like a disease.

The floorboards beneath my boots protest with each step, sagging under my weight in a way that speaks of headaches and rotted supports.

As if on cue, a sharp skittering sound echoes through the walls, followed by rapid scratching.

My eyes narrow as I track the noise from one beam to another.

Probably squirrels or mice that have made themselves at home in the old building's bones.

Just one more thing to add to the growing list of problems that need fixing.

And Cassidy keeps chatting, totally oblivious of her furry little tenants wreaking havoc inside her walls.

"Oh, and this fireplace." She practically skips across the room, running her fingers along the ancient wood. "I was thinking we could restore it, maybe add some built-in bookshelves on the other side of the room. Create a cozy reading nook."

Finally, Cassidy stops talking and turns to me, her excitement radiating from every pore of her skin like beams of psychotic sunshine. “So, where do we start?”

I swallow the last of my coffee, which has gone cold in the span of the longest monologue about renovation I’d ever heard.

“You got a budget for all this?” Dollar signs add up in my brain as I compile all the work that needs done. It’s a lot, but I know I can do most of it without making her bank account sweat. “I would start there.”

"Of course I have a budget." Her smile wavers just for a heartbeat before returning full force. "It's not impressive, but I'm good at finding deals! And I'll help with the grunt work. I can paint and tear down wallpaper. Put in some elbow grease, you know?"

She keeps talking, her words tumbling out faster than whatever runs through those old walls, but I've stopped listening.

Every enthusiastic gesture, every bright-eyed plan she shares just highlights how little she understands the scope of what needs to be done.

The fact that she thinks I'll let her climb on a ladder and work alongside me in this wreck of a building makes my jaw clench .

“Teaching newbies wastes time.” I let out a low growl. "Having you work with me isn't part of the deal, Princess."

"I'm a fast learner." She lifts her chin, meeting my gaze straight on. "And I'm stronger than I look."

Something about her determination makes my chest tight. I turn away, focusing on the crumbling plaster near the staircase.

"So I've seen your grand foyer, the guest rooms, and the halls. Now show me where you're living," I say. "I want to check the whole building's layout."

She leads me through a derelict kitchen to a small apartment at the back of the lodge.

The sight hits me like a physical blow. Cracked linoleum peels up at the edges of the floor, revealing rotting subflooring beneath.

A broken window is barely held together with clouded plastic film that ripples in the draft.

Past the kitchen is Cassidy’s small apartment.

There’s a living room that shines by its absence of furniture and to the back is a bedroom.

If we can call it that. I have to refrain from growling as I walk inside.

An inflatable mattress sags against the wall like a deflated balloon, topped with a mess of blankets that look about as warm as tissue paper.

The air smells musty and damp, with hints of mold that make my nose twitch.

My hands clench into fists. No one should be living like this, especially not someone who works as hard as she does. The thought of Cassidy huddled under those thin blankets while winter storms rage outside makes something hot and angry coil in my chest.

"This is where you're living?" My voice comes out rougher than intended, scraping past the tightness in my throat .

"It's fine for now!" Cassidy waves off my look of horror, her smile bright but brittle around the edges. Her shoulders are tense, like she's waiting for criticism and ready to fight it. "Once the Saltwater Lodge is up and running, I'll fix this place up, too."

"You can't be serious."

But my eyes catch on two suitcases lined against the wall, next to the mattress. Fancy clothes lay in there, scrupulously folded in neat little piles. She's living out of those two meager piles of clothes and with a kitchen she can't cook a meal in.

Totally unacceptable.

"Yup! It's no palace, but it's home. For now." She smiles even wider, that forced cheerfulness making my jaw clench. A shiver runs through her as another draft whistles through the plastic-covered window.

"You're not fixing anything else till this apartment's livable." The words come out like a growl. The thought of her living like this makes me want to punch something. Preferably whatever idiot made her life so unbearable that she has to live like this.

She blinks those big hazel eyes at me, wringing her hands. "Oh, no, really. The guest spaces should come first. Then I can worry about making a little nest for myself."

Not a chance, Princess.

"We're fixing your kitchen and bathroom first, then I'll move on to the foyer and finish with the guest bedrooms. End of discussion." I cross my arms over my chest, planting my feet. "Rule number one: we do things my way. Remember, Princess?"

She hesitates, and I watch the struggle play across her expressive face.

Her gaze goes to the limp excuse for a mattress, then the window.

I see it in her eyes when she glances at the bathroom, where the steady sound of a drip lets me know I'll find another horror waiting for me.

She tries to hide it, but the desperation is right there, underneath that veneer of cheerfulness she waves around like a shield.

She's cold, hungry, and she hates living this way.

And pain in my ass or not, I won't allow her to suffer like this for a day longer than she needs to.

"Okay. But only because you're so grumpy about it."

Finally, she gives me a small smile that hits me right in the gut.

Because it’s a real one. There's a tiny part of me that whispers that I would do anything in the world just to have her smile at me that way again.

Not in the over-the-top way she has when she knows her problems are about to swallow her whole.

No, in the genuine way of someone who's not used to having another take care of her.

Well, I'm here now, Princess. Whether you want me to or not, I'm taking care of things now.

The day passes in a blur of measurements, lists for materials, and notes. By sunset, I have a pretty solid plan for how I'm going to tackle the apartment and kitchen, then it'll be on to her bathroom. She will have a comfortable apartment by the end of the month or I'm no longer an orc.

All that time Cassidy didn't lose a breath, carrying buckets of soapy water up and down the stairs to clean the guest rooms and the upper floor of the inn.

She's way more energetic than I ever gave her credit for, and a reluctant feeling of admiration builds up in my chest whenever I catch sight of her determined face, flushed from exertion.

The entire place may be crumbling, but by might alone, Cassidy Perkins will have it sparkling clean .

The day's almost done when movement catches my eye through the kitchen window. A scraggly orange cat sits on the back steps, its matted fur glowing like embers in the setting sun. Green eyes meet mine through the glass, wary but curious.

"That's Marigold." Cassidy's voice is soft behind me. "At least, that's what I named her. I think she was living inside before I moved in. I leave food out, but she only eats after I go away."

The cat lets out a plaintive meow, pressing one paw against the window. Despite the dirt and tangles in her coat, there's something dignified about the way she holds herself.

I crouch down slowly, keeping my movements steady. "Looks half-starved."

"I know." Cassidy's sock-clad feet pad across the floor as she moves closer.

"I bought some proper cat food yesterday.

And a little bed, just in case she decides to stay.

I think she might have been someone's pet once.

The way she looks at me sometimes, like she remembers what it was like to trust people. "

The cat meows again, softer this time. Her tail curls around her paws as she watches us through the glass.

"Are you planning on keeping her?" I ask, though I already know the answer. Cassidy has bleeding heart written all over her pretty face.

"If she'll let me." Cassidy's voice carries that same endless hope she's shown all day. "Everyone deserves a second chance at happiness, don't you think?"

I lock gazes with her as she says that, and for a moment, time suspends. There’s an eagerness in her pretty, heart-shaped face, an openness that makes my chest hurt and my hands flex at my sides .

I could kiss her. I bet her lips would fit just right between my tusks. The thought flashes through my mind like a lightning bolt and I stop myself just as my arm lifts, reaching for her slender neck.

I turn away from her to face the door to the back porch and reach for the door handle, but the slight movement sends Marigold darting into the shadows, nothing but an orange streak against the growing dark.

"Smart cat," I mutter, but the words feel heavy on my tongue.

I pretend to look for the cat for just long enough to rein in my impulse to crush Cassidy against that door and kiss her till she moans and writhes in my arms. When I turn back to her, the little human woman stares at me with her smile still plastered on her face.

"See you tomorrow?" Her voice carries that same bright optimism that should grate on my nerves but somehow doesn't.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, then I gather my tools, hyper-aware of Cassidy's presence behind me. Of her warm, soft body with curves that make my fingers itch and my cock twitch to life just thinking about her.

If I wasn’t in trouble before, I am now.

She's been living in her crumbling inn, sleeping on an air mattress, eating microwave meals, and still she finds room in her heart to care for a stray cat that won't even let her close.

She definitely needs someone to take care of her.

And that someone is not me. But I’m all there is.

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