Page 9 of Grumpy Pucking Orc (Orcs on Ice #1)

Jordan

W e walked into McHenry’s and came to an immediate halt.

The orcs were clearly visible at the bar, giant and green, and huddled together as they discussed something.

The human clientele had given them a wide berth.

The only open tables were the ones immediately around the orcs.

Willa headed for the bar seats next to the hockey players, but I grabbed her arm and steered her toward a table instead, not wanting to look like a desperate puck bunny following Ozar here from the parking lot where I’d met him.

“Spoil sport,” Willa muttered, taking her seat.

She and Abby both sat beside me, angling their chairs so we were facing the orcs. The guys hadn’t seen us yet, and I was already dreading the moment one of them turned around and noticed the three of us gawking at them. Or smirking, as Willa was doing.

“That one on the end is typing on a cell phone,” Abby leaned over and whispered. “I had no idea they’d be tech savvy.”

“Maybe they have similar devices at home,” I suggested.

For some reason, I’d assumed orcs lived a medieval-era existence with fire pits for cooking and beasts for transportation, but they could have the magical or technological equivalent of cell phones.

Maybe they could teleport like the angels or whisk across the skies on magic carpets.

Stereotypes were harmful, and if anything, the past few years had taught all of us that we were not the superior race we’d assumed ourselves to be.

“Do you think they’re discussing the game and strategizing for their next one?” Abby asked.

Willa laughed. “I think they’re rating the women in the bar and betting on who can get laid tonight.”

They both turned to me.

“I’ve got no idea what they’re discussing,” I confessed, wishing I’d left and gone home to my cat.

Abby elbowed me. “Go find out. You’ve met one of them. Get your butt up to the bar and do the whole ‘fancy meeting you here’ thing.”

No. Fucking. Way. I slouched lower in my seat, regretting that I’d ever been talked into this.

“How are they not breaking those barstools?” Willa asked. “They’re all like seven feet tall and probably weigh over three hundred pounds with those muscles. And they’re carrying knives. I’m not talking Boy Scout Swiss Army Knives, either. Those things have got to be illegal.”

“Why is everyone scared of them?” Abby looked around the bar. “I mean, yeah, they’re big and muscled, and have tusks, but they’re hockey players. I’d expect people would be wanting to take selfies with them.”

“Screw it.” Willa got up from her chair, tossing her long braids over one shoulder and tugging the neckline of her shirt low enough to show off her cleavage. I tried to pull her back down into her seat and failed.

“Hey, boys! Great fight tonight. You might not have won the game, but you beat the snot out of those Red Wings.”

The orcs all turned around. I hunched lower in my chair, but it didn’t matter.

Ozar’s eyes found mine, and I knew I was red as a damned tomato.

He jumped from his seat, took two steps toward me, then stopped.

I could see he was just as confused about how to handle this situation as I was, so I took a deep breath, smiled, and waved him over.

“Did you and your friends want to join us?” I asked him once he’d walked the rest of the way to our table.

Ozar glanced behind him where Willa was chatting with one of the orc hockey players. Then he looked at Abby.

“Please join us,” Abby told him. “That is, if you want to. We saw the game tonight and would love to buy you all a beer.”

Where Willa was bold and brash, Abby was all friendly flattery. No man could resist either of my friends, for very different reasons.

And it seemed that orcs were just as susceptible to their charms as humans were.

In seconds, we were all crowded around the table, bumping knees and rubbing elbows, literally, with the local hockey team.

I’d expected loud bragging and pickup lines, but the orcs seemed to be nervous with us right next to them.

It was kind of endearing. We all introduced ourselves.

Abby ordered a round of beverages. Then there was an awkward silence.

The one named Bwat was staring at his phone in a way that reminded me a lot of the guys I’d recently gone out with from a dating site.

He was a bit shorter and leaner than the others but still was well over six feet tall with muscles that a bodybuilder would envy.

The one name Ugwyll looked like he was sizing us up—for what, I had no idea.

Eng I recognized as the guy who’d propped up a wall the entire game.

He had an arrogant, brooding expression, like he considered this whole night a giant waste of time.

For some reason, that was the orc Willa had locked her sights on.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. That woman always loved a challenge. And an argument.

Ozar shifted in his chair, scowling at his teammates, then his lips turned upward as he glanced my way. “I didn’t expect to see you until Monday morning.”

Ugh. Did he think I was stalking him? There definitely was an intriguing attraction going on here between us, but I needed time to think that out. I wasn’t one to rush…well, rush anything . And being here probably gave him the impression I was.

“I’m glad to see you again,” he confessed. “Do you like hockey games? Do you often attend?”

“I like hockey, but the last professional game I remember going to was when I was a teenager,” I told him.

“Baltimore hasn’t had an NHL team before the Tusks.

There are some minor league teams around here, but I’ve never gone to any of their games.

Did you play hockey back home…where you’re from? Or something like hockey?”

It was a stupid question given how badly they’d played—and skated—but I felt it was polite to ask.

He shook his head. “We had no ice-games. Our sports involve feats of strength, running, and hand-to-hand combat.”

“I’m sure you won many of those.” It wasn’t false flattery. He was huge and strong, and after watching him fight tonight, I couldn’t imagine him losing to anyone—even other orcs back in his homeland.

Ozar looked a little embarrassed. “I won some, but not what I would call many. At home I am a warrior, a Clan Guardian. I fight, but I also lead my…team? I think that is your word.”

I guessed it was, not knowing much about even human military terms. Which brought me to something I’d been dying to ask him since I’d talked to him in the parking lot.

“Your English is very good. Did you learn to speak it when you were young? Back home?” I was guilty of assuming the orcs lived a primitive existence, like green cavemen. For all I knew, they could have cities, schools, and libraries, as well as the equivalent of cell phones.

“Other than a few basic words and phrases, we all learned your language when we came here two months ago.” He grinned at my surprised expression, flashing a line of white teeth and those tusks. “There are many languages in my world. It’s good to know as many as possible, so we learn fast.”

“Are there humans living in your orc cities? Is that how you learned those basic words and phrases?” I asked, really curious about his life before coming here and playing hockey.

He shook his head. “Not for many of your centuries has there been a human living with an orc clan. But there are orcs who have human blood in their veins from an ancestor, and while the human language has mostly been lost, their descendants know some of the language that was passed down in their family. My friend Gax had a human grandmother and taught me what he knew of her language.”

“Humans have a lot of languages. Did you all only learn English or others? Did Gax’s grandmother speak English?” That initial awkward silence was broken, and now I was excited to know everything I could about orcs—and about this orc in particular.

“Gax’s grandmother spoke English, and that is what we learned when we arrived since our passageway to this world led us here.”

He had made a gesture with his arm as he spoke, and I couldn’t help but tease him. “You arrived from your world via a portal to The McHenry Tavern? Is the passageway in the basement? The walk-in fridge?”

Ozar frowned, consulting his phone. After a few long seconds of typing and reading, he chuckled, the sound low and warm. “We arrived in this country, but not in this particular business.”

“I still think your being able to speak English in two months is remarkable,” I told him. “I doubt I’d be able to do more than ask where the restroom was and maybe comment on the color of your clothing in your language after two months.”

He leaned over, his arm brushing my shoulder. “I think you would learn quickly. Gax’s grandmother did.”

I had so many questions.

“How did Gax’s grandfather meet his human grandmother?” I wondered. The elves and fae had a long history of kidnapping humans, but that wasn’t exactly a situation that led to romance. Unless Gax’s grandfather had rescued her from her kidnappers, that is.

Ozar squirmed. “I don’t know the exact circumstances of their meeting.”

“He kidnapped her?” My voice was flat. I didn’t care if I offended him or not.

The orc sighed, then nodded. “He did. I believe there were some difficult early times between them, but they ended up in love.”

Right. “Maybe you should Google ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ on your phone,” I snapped.

He stilled, his expression worried as he looked at me. “ We no longer raid and plunder your world like we used to.”

I noticed he didn’t say anything about kidnapping women.

“And I vow to you on my honor and my clan that I will never take a female against her will.”

My eyes met his, and I was surprised by the intensity in those golden-brown irises. I believed him. I didn’t know what the other orcs intended, but I believed Ozar.