Page 80 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

“Genesis?”

“Gargoyle.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You okay?”

I must be staring. And possibly drooling.

In the house, the dogs start a soft, low howling, interspersed with whimpers. “You just look so handsome. And I’m so happy you’re healing. I’m happy you’re with me.” I rush forward to scoot myself under his arm. Partly to support him and partly because... I love him. “Love you.”

“Loveyou! So, is it okay to take my car? You can drive as much as you want.”

I have a sudden flashback to my mom and one of the guys she dated after the divorce. Carl, I think. He wouldn’t ever let her touch his car, let alone drive it. Some men are creepily possessive about their stuff, even though they expect a woman to share her home, her kids, and her body with them. I hug King a little harder. “You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind? You’re my— you’re my girlfriend. We practically live together.”

“Yeah. Oh, hey, you know what Kev suggested? He suggested I don’t sell my place—you know, if we end up together.”

“When.” King corrects with a severe snarl, heading towards my door. “I’ll get your bags. What did Kev suggest?”

“That I keep the place and rent it for a couple hundred more than the mortgage payment. Make a little money long term if I don’t get a good price after a few months on the market.”

“That’s a good idea! You know, if you advertise on campus, I bet a couple of grad students would split it.”

King grabs my bags and makes soothing noises through the door. “Hey, babies! Daddy and Mommy are gonna load up, then you get to go for a ride in a nice big car. I brought Super Pup Bacon Burgers, your favorite snacks!”

“Stop being so adorable. It makes it hard for me to remain objective,” I chide.

He turns, a hurt look on his face. “I don’t want you to be objective. I want you madly in love with me.”

I open the door to let out the dogs.

They bound out and immediately follow him, circling King and wagging so hard their back feet tip-tap off the ground. They don’t jump up until he sits on the running board of the big truck, arms open.

“Damn it. He’s succeeded,” I mutter to myself, thinking there’s no way I can possibly love this guy any more than I already do, all the while shushing my rational brain that tells me good things don’t last.

Ingrid handles the truck like a pro. I’m not surprised. She handles everything like a pro. Watching her masterfully handle exit lanes with speeding maniacs while still explaining her family tree and massaging my legs makes me all too aware of the fact that she doesn’t need a man. Doesn’t need me. Doesn’t need anything. I’m so damn lucky she wants me. Wants to let me in on this warmth, this life, this adventure.

“So, Mom met and married Jonathan a year or so after the divorce. He’s a nice guy, just boring and fussy, and I don’t really get along with his kids and grandkids. He’s older than my mom by a little bit—nothing wrong with that. They were both married to ‘adventurous’ people, and they found their ‘stay home and chill’ people with this second marriage. He has Darcy, Dillon, Jamie, and Janice, but I don’t think all of them will be there. They’re all married and have a bunch of kids. I’m the only single one in the family, and it pisses them off. Like if they have to be tied down and always cancelling plans because of little Becky’s strep throat and baby Charlie’s ear infection, then I should be miserable, too.”

“Oh.”

I swallow my beef jerky and toss a piece to each of the dogs, my throat sticky, and not just because I chose the honey barbecue flavor.

Kids and being tied down? Miserable?

I hear lots of guys start praying when they’re about to meet the in-laws. My prayers are a little different.

God, I don’t care if I can’t skate again. Make me the best boyfriend. Best husband. I want her to feel like having a family with me isawesome. I want her to think that being with me is fun, even though I’ll never be perfect. It’ll never be perfect.

Ingrid continues, her beautiful face pained and her voice holding an exasperated undercurrent. “Janice had a huge meltdown when my mom tried to insist that I be her maid of honor, and she didn't want me to be. She’s like ten years older than me, too, and we’d met like... five times. Why would I be her maid of honor? I was a stepsister who didn’t even grow up with her!”

“Your mom was just trying to make the family more blended?”

“Yeah, but some things don’t blend, like chocolate and dog treats. Anyway, the joke’s on them; I didn’t want to be in the wedding, either. I had a trip to Turkey planned for months. The day of the wedding, I was with a tour group, hanging out at the Hagia Sophia, and I was touring the ruins of Ephesus during the rehearsal dinner. Mom, Janice, Janice’s husband, and Jonathan are still mad at me for ‘causing’ the argument.”

“Oh.”