Page 33 of Grumpy Pucking Orc (Orcs on Ice #1)
From a human, that would have sounded insufferably arrogant, but from Ozar, it came across as tender and vulnerable.
I turned so his front was to my back and positioned his hands on my waist. “Angle your left skate like this and gently push yourself forward on the right skate. Don’t dig in with the toe like you were doing before, just angle, give some gentle pressure on the blade, then push.”
Even though I couldn’t see him behind me, I could feel that he mirrored my movement.
“Now with your right skate pointing straight ahead, return the left blade to the ice and shift your weight to that leg, angling and pushing off with your right foot.”
We quickly fell into a rhythm, gliding slowly around the ice.
The second lap we increased speed, and during the third lap, I pulled Ozar’s hands from my waist, darting forward to put a little space between us before spinning around and taking his hands in mine.
We circled that way, me skating backward and Ozar guiding our path as we increased speed once more.
I let go of his hands and cut to the right. He skated forward a few paces, then surprised me by turning around to skate backward. The turn involved a shower of ice chips, but he used the technique I just taught him to smoothly glide in reverse.
For an hour we skated, not like hockey players, but like a couple enjoying a romantic evening on the ice.
By the time we headed back to the locker room, Ozar could coordinate his movements alongside mine, twirling me around in front of him to his other side, then turning to skate backward while holding my hands.
It amazed me how quickly he’d caught on and how much innate talent he’d shown.
Maybe my wishful thinking was right, and this hockey team might be able to hold their own against a human team by the end of the season.
After changing out of our skates, we headed into the night.
The mild temperature of the day had vanished with the sun, and a cold breeze was sliding clouds across the stars and moon.
I shivered, and Ozar pulled me against him, the warmth of his body and his arm slung across my shoulders, chasing away the chill.
It probably wasn’t an ideal night for ice cream, but since I’d enjoy a cup of mint chip even if I lived in Antarctica, we were going for ice cream.
The teen girl behind the counter looked up as we walked in, then did a double take.
Her eyes widened as she took in the giant orc.
Ozar had needed to duck his head coming through the doorway and turn slightly sideways so his shoulders could fit through the opening.
His eyes widened as well, but it was because he’d seen the rows of ice cream in the long, counter-topped freezer.
“Is all this iced cream?”
His voice held so much awe that I laughed. “Most of it. Some are sherbet, which doesn’t include milk. You can try a taste of any before you order.”
Ozar walked over to the freezer cases and shook his head. “This is amazing. What is your favorite?”
“I’ve always been a mint chip fan, but I also love rocky road and dark chocolate with strawberries and almonds sprinkled on top.”
I watched as he carefully perused the containers.
Ozar was so refreshingly open about his emotions.
His excitement over trying ice cream, his willingness to let me teach him to skate.
And that picture of him playing with children at the park.
This guy seemed too good to be true, but the optimist inside of me wanted to believe that this was real, so I did.
“I saw the article in the paper. The one where you were at Patterson Park with the kids this weekend,” I told him.
His shoulders tightened. “Orc males teach their young to fight and survive. They don’t usually indulge in play with them.”
I put a hand on his arm. “That’s a shame. I love it when a man finds joy in playing with children. I love it when a man talks to me about his hopes and dreams, about his fears. I love it when a man shares both the good memories of his past and the bad.”
His shoulders relaxed. Then he said, “I like milk.”
It sounded like a confession, and I got the idea that enjoying a glass of milk was another thing orc men weren’t supposed to do.
“We’re all about our dairy products here,” I told him. “Cheese. Cream sauces. Lattes. We even have non-dairy options for humans who can’t easily digest real milk. No matter your age, everyone deserves to enjoy milk products. Including ice cream.”
He pointed a finger at one of the tubs of ice cream. “Can I try that one?”
“Sure can.” The girl dug a tiny pink spoon into the mocha-fudge swirl and held it out to Ozar. The orc tasted it and made a low growling noise deep in his throat.
“I want that one,” he announced.
I smiled. “Cone or cup?” He looked confused at the question, so I told the girl to put two scoops in a waffle cone and make me the same with mint chip.
And as we walked out of the ice cream shop with our cones, I grabbed Ozar’s hand and led him toward the Inner Harbor.