Page 6 of Grumpy Pucking Orc (Orcs on Ice #1)

Jordan

T his is ridiculou s, I thought as I made my way to the pub where my friends and I were going to grab drinks.

Why had I gone into dentist mode the moment I’d seen that orc wiggle his tusk?

Why had I offered to provide him with dental care and given him what amounted to a VIP appointment when my practice was booked for three months out?

It wasn’t like I was doing this pro bono, though. The guy probably had great insurance. And doing reconstructive work for a hockey player would boost the status of my practice, even if that hockey player was an orc.

But none of that was why I’d offered to help him.

Good insurance and a pro-athlete patient wasn’t an adequate excuse for examining a total stranger’s mouth in the middle of a parking lot—a stranger who hadn’t filled out a ton of paperwork and hadn’t been seated in a chair in my office by one of my staff.

Why had I done that? Was it the challenge of fixing an orc’s teeth?

Was it an academic interest in his unusual jaw and dental structures?

Was it the sparks that danced along my nerve endings when I’d touched him?

The very non-professional concern I’d felt as I’d examined his tusk?

Or the heat that had pooled between my thighs when he’d so gently taken my offered hand and shook it?

His hand had been huge, easily able to break the bones in mine with a hard squeeze, but he’d been so careful.

And his golden-brown whisky eyes had shown with kindness, reverence… attraction.

He wasn’t my type. The orc thing…it was horrible to think this, but I’d never imagined dating anyone but a human male.

Even without the green skin and the tusks, he was just…

big. The guy was seven feet tall and a wall of hard muscles—muscles so defined I could clearly see them from the stands at the game.

I’d never gone for the jocks. I made it a hard rule not to date sports figures, musicians, or actors.

And he was an orc .

But orc or not, something about him stirred me like no one had in over a year—like no one ever had.

Shaking my head to clear it of such thoughts, I opened the door to the pub and headed straight for the ladies’ room to wash my hands.

Good grief. I’d examined someone’s teeth without even wearing gloves, with nothing but cheap pocket-sized tissues to sponge up his blood. Again, what had I been thinking?

After I’d washed my hands twice and applied sanitizer from my purse, I headed back into the dining area and saw Willa waving at me from a back table.

“What took you so long?” Abby asked. “We were ready to send out the cavalry to search for you.”

“And you still have your jacket.” Willa pulled on one of the sleeves. “Wasn’t the whole trip to your car so you could ditch this?”

Now I’d have to tell them what happened. How embarrassing. I grimaced and slid into a seat, relaying the story of finding Ozar leaning against the back of my car, and his dental issues.

Abby rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, you pulled a portable X-ray machine from your purse and took images right in the parking lot.”

“You are such a dentist.” Willa laughed. “Although I’ve got to say, hockey players probably all need reconstructive work multiple times in their careers.”

I shuddered at the thought of all those broken and dislodged teeth. “They wear mouth guards.”

But did the orcs wear mouth guards? The humans had pads, while the orcs had been skating around bare-chested. Maybe they weren’t provided with mouth guards, either.

The thought infuriated me. Did OSHA know about this? The National Hockey League? There had to be safety standards in place and those should apply to orcs as well as humans playing the sport.

Willa elbowed me. “Well, now you have a new client who probably has great insurance and deep pockets if they’re paying the orcs what they pay the human players. Maybe you’ll end up the official dentist to the team.”

“Maybe.” The thought didn’t really appeal to me. I preferred my current clientele and didn’t really want to turn into a sports specialist. But if my friends thought this was some sort of strategic career move, then they wouldn’t suspect the weird attraction I’d felt toward Ozar.

I’d never hear the end of it if Willa and Abby thought I was getting all hot and bothered over an orc.

Abby eyed me over her beer. “So, which one was he? The goalie? That forward? He was totally hot.”

I blinked in surprise. “You think the forward was hot ? ”

My friend grinned. “I mean, they’re all hot. Tall, muscles out the wazoo.”

“Tusks?” Willa laughed. “I’ll admit they are totally jacked, and the green skin doesn’t bother me one bit, but how would kissing one work with those tusks jutting out of their lower jaw?”

They both turned to me, and I felt my face heat up at the scrutiny. “What? I’ve never kissed an orc. How am I supposed to know?”

Abby snorted. “We’re looking at you for a dental-expert perspective. And you did get up close and personal to those tusks tonight. Do you think an orc is kissable? Or more importantly, is oral out of the question?”

And now there were images running through my mind of Ozar going down on me. The tusks were long enough that, with care, the points wouldn’t jab anything…important. And skillful pressure with one of them in the right place could be absolutely amazing.

I sucked in a breath, realizing that Abby and Willa were still staring at me, silent and waiting for my verdict.

“I think kissing could be…logistically different, and…oral could be interesting and enjoyable.”

Abby did a fist-pump. “I knew it. Should we become Baltimore Tusks groupies, girls? Go to the parties and experiment with some orc loving?”

Willa shrugged, lifting her wine glass. “Hell, I’m up for anything. Count me in.”

“Uh, count me out.” I grimaced. I was too busy with my career to squeeze in all the partying and casual sex.

Although I couldn’t help but wonder…

I took a deep pull on the cold draft beer, wondering why it was extra hot in here. Puck’s was always hot, but I felt like I was ready to melt .

“I’m buying tickets for the next home game,” Abby announced, picking up her phone.

“I’ll research what bars they hang out at, and if anyone is hosting an after party,” Willa said. “Twitter and Insta, here I come.”

“Isn’t it called ‘X’ now?” I said.

Willa shrugged. “Fuck that. It’s always gonna be Twitter. And National Airport will never be called Reagan National. And McDaniel College is forever Western Maryland College.”

For a woman who was known for being adaptable, Willa was surprisingly inflexible about some things.

I hid a smile behind my beer and took another sip.

I’d arrived in Baltimore five years ago to start my practice, feeling out of place and lonely in the city.

Willa had been a personal trainer at the health club I’d joined, and we’d quickly become friends.

Abby had gone to college with Willa, and after a few happy hours, the marketing consultant ended up my friend as well.

They were both smart, funny, and they kept me from becoming a slave to my job.

“There.” Abby set her phone down. “We’ve got tickets to watch the Tusks play Toronto at the next home game. My treat.”

Willa turned her phone to face us. “Judging from some pics on Insta, it looks like the Tusks like to grab a post-game beer at McHenry’s Bar and Grill. It’s just four blocks the other side of the stadium. You ladies should down those brews so we can go ogle some buff green dudes.”

“Yes!”

“No!” I spoke the same time as Abby, then sighed as the two other women turned to face me, eyebrows raised.

“That felt like an oddly emphatic no,” Willa commented .

Abby rested her elbows on the table and propped up her chin. “Is there a reason you don’t want to go to McHenry’s?”

“I have to get home to my cat?” It was a lame excuse, but it was the only one I could think of that wouldn’t expose this strange insta-crush thing I’d developed on one of the orc players.

“Bullshit.” Willa laughed. “Your cat is going to be pissed at you whether you go home now or in three hours. I’m thinking there’s another reason you don’t want to go. You’re blushing like crazy.”

“There’s probably a whole team worth of teeth and tusks to examine at McHenry’s,” Abby teased. “And if you want to examine other body parts of a certain hot forward, I’m guessing he’d be eager and willing.”

Damn. My face was on fire, and all I could think about was the idea of my leg pressed against Ozar’s as I sat next to him at the bar.

He’d offer to walk me to my car, then pull me into a walkway between two buildings, pushing me up against the wall and kissing me.

His lips would be soft, his tongue insistent, his tusks firm against my face.

He’d grab my ass with his big hands, hauling me up so I could wrap my legs around him and press myself against the hardness of his?—

“McHenry’s it is.” Abby downed the rest of her beer, then pushed mine toward me. “Drink up, girl. We’ve got hockey-orcs to ogle.”