Page 36 of Falling for the Orc All-Star
King Silverbow, arrogant asswipe hockey player, is secretly the best dog babysitter in the world. Chip has his head on King’s shoulder, burrowing for dear life, and King just coos at him and tells him he’s being such a good, brave boy. Daisy is sprawled out, shedding all over his pants, looking like a throw rug, nosing under his palm if he stops petting her for a second.
I have to change my scrubs because they’re covered in second-hand fur, but I also feel like I need to change everything underneath.
Watching him hold my big furballs like they’re tiny puppies shouldn’t make me wet, but it does.
Damn it, biological clock. You stay out of this. No one asked you. You’re not thinking about how he’d cradle your kids, their sleepy pale green faces resting on his broad shoulders. No. You’re not thinking how he’d easily carry two or three kids at once, playing outlaws and pirates, a big kid himself, who could turn on a dime and be their warrior and defender.
Definitelynot thinking about how he growled and told Lester to back off when he was checking out my ass.
The biological clock hands off the baton to my libido, and a new leg of this romance relay that I never wanted begins.
Not thinking about how easily he could hold me. Pick me up. Slam into me. Or just let me sit on his lap. Not thinking about the kisses. And how he was a gentleman.
I bite my lip and hop in the shower, trying to scrub away the wetness that’s slicker than water.
I don’t want him to be a gentleman tonight.
Don’t think about being naked up here while he’s down there on your couch.
Don’t fantasize about him stumbling in looking for the bathroom, finding you in nothing but body wash...
Somehow, I keep composed. I heat up a frozen pizza for dinner, determined that I will not bow to pressure from my libido, my biological clock, or even the dogs, who refuse to leave King’s lap even when the storm passes.
“You look amazing.”
I look down. I’m in flowy black pajama pants and my old Proud Navy Daughter tank top. My flappy upper arms are completely uncovered, my pouchy middle is unconcealed, soft and free, and my hair is up in a wet bun.
“You’re still dealing with that concussion, huh?” I tease.
“Don’t do that. Don’t insult my beautiful Ingrid,” he warns, his voice holding that same little growl that shoots one of Cupid’s arrows right into my lady bits and sets them throbbing.
“I’m just being realistic.” I shrug, getting out a pitcher of the local Onyx Farms apple cider.
“You’re too hard on yourself. You see flaws that aren’t there.”
“Well, I’m compensating. You seem like someone who sees perfection, even when it’s not there,” I quip.
It was meant to be a joke, but King takes it seriously.
“I know I’m not perfect. I was just... I was the perfect son for my mom, and as Orcs go... I’m good-looking, and I’m athletic. If this were the old days, I’d be a ‘catch.’” He shrugs and looks sober.
“Oh?Well, I mean, I can’t argue with handsome and athletic.” I pick at the pepperoni on my pizza, butterflies in my stomach making it hard to eat.
He nods, but doesn’t eat.
“Why just your mom? Why perfect for her?”
“Oh. Uh. Well, I never met her, but I had a sister. Gruoch. Named after one of the ancient Scottish queens. She... She wasn’t perfect. Not healthwise. It’s rare for Orcs, but it can happen to them, just like it can happen to humans.” He pokes his plate.
Every curse in the world is running through my head, and after growing up on naval bases and visiting so many different places, that’s a lot.
“I call myself an only child. My parents say that, too. They never mention her anymore. Never put up pictures. She had defects from birth. Lung and heart. My mom only ever said she died before her first birthday, and I was already on the way. They were terrified I was going to be the same, but nope. I came out screaming and kicking, so perfect. Physically. And I was big, and strong, and fast... Things an Orc should be.” King shakes his head. “You’re right. They spent so much time crowing over what a perfect physical specimen I was. It went to my head.”
I’m stunned. Can’t speak. Didn’t even think of something so out of his control as the reason behind his arrogance, but then again, who would imagine such a miserable reason? My mouth opens and my eyes fill up, but no sound comes out.
His eyes meet mine, his grin crooked. “I never think of her. Never let things go too deep, but I guess you’re right. They were grieving, and I came along. A healthy baby after burying one who’d been ill and struggling since birth. My mother said I healed their hearts. Maybe I didn’t do a good job of it. They probably should have spent more time mourning her, not celebrating me. My dad got upset with me one time for asking about Gruoch. He said, ‘Life isfor the living. Let the dead bury their dead.’” He shakes his head and picks up the frosted mug of cider. “I should have seen this before. I think about things differently since I’ve been hurt. I think about life differently since I met you.”
It’s only been a few days, but I think about things differently because of him, too.