Page 10 of One Night with Her Untamed Orc (Toothsome Monster Romance #6)

Emma

S lightly embarrassed that I almost fell asleep on Tarik, I jump up when the knocking on the door becomes persistent and Tarik tries to ease me to the other chair. “I’m good! I’m awake!” I say, swaying on my feet, and trying to make my still-damp hair look less haggard.

Tarik growls at whoever is at the door, and for inexplicable reasons, it brings a smile to my face.

Picking up my bowl of semi-cold soup, I stand just out of sight and continue to eat while I listen to the conversation.

The other person sounds younger. I’m about to peek around the corner when there’s a heavy sigh, the shutting of the door, and the thudding of feet toward me.

I rush back to my chair and sit, trying to act like I’m focused solely on my food.

“That’s cold now. Get a fresh hot bowl,” he says as he stomps into the room, a smaller orc following behind him. I smile at Tarik. I have never met someone who seems to be so kind and observant, but also so gruff in every interaction. The juxtaposition keeps me on my toes; I like that .

I get a better view; it’s a teenage orc. He stands just to the side of Tarik, looking at me like I have three heads.

“Hello,” I say. He waves a large green hand at me, a bit like a Newfoundland puppy—all paws and gangly limbs with no idea just how big he is—he whacks Tarik in the face, making me giggle. He smiles, his tusks slightly too big for the rest of his face.

“I’m Poros. Tarik is supposed to help me with my greenhouse plans.” He holds up a long plastic cylinder in the other hand, one that might hold blueprints.

“Today seems like a good day for that. It’s awful out.” He nods. Tarik snorts, then stalks away from us and into the kitchen, where he fills three bowls of still-hot soup.

After insisting that I take the hot soup, he points at the table and demands Poros unroll the design. I sit back in my chair and watch them.

For someone who says he doesn’t like people, he takes great care with this young orc with the gangly limbs.

He swats Poros’s hand away and says, “Don’t be silly,” at something Poros said.

But after a few minutes of hemming and hawing over the diagram, he slaps the teen on the back, in a way that makes me wince but doesn’t seem to bother Poros, and says, “This is an impressive design. I think it will work well for you. We can start building it once this weather system passes and the ground dries out for a few days. Have you put together a materials list?”

Poros looks pleased at the praise from Tarik. It wasn’t overly flowery or long-winded. Direct and to the point. And genuine. It brings to mind my professors and how I’m always searching for any scrap of praise. And when I get it, I cling to it like it’s my life raft.

Tarik stands—indicating it’s time for Poros to leave, towering over the oblivious Poros, who admires his own handiwork like a proud papa, continuing to throw out ideas he’s clearly been dreaming about for a while.

As I scrape the last of my soup up, finally feeling satisfied, I wonder if my clothes are dry yet.

Tarik clears his throat at Poros, but still he doesn’t notice.

“Um, Tarik? Do you want to let him stay until the rain stops?” I mean, he traveled here in the rain. Seems rude to kick him out. Tarik’s eyes are fire as they gaze at me. I can’t quite breathe. Maybe Poros should leave now, before his gaze burns a hole in this robe.

“It’s okay. I like the rain. I’ll be back tomorrow to help clean up any debris,” Poros says, standing, rolling up his drawing to put it safely back in its cylinder.

“I didn’t ask for help for tomorrow.” Tarik crosses his arms and looks…grumpy. Just really, really grumpy at Poros .

“I know. But you’ll want it. And it will give me an opportunity to look at how the pumpkins are progressing.

” Poros turns to look at me. “Tarik grows the largest pumpkins in the area. People travel from all over to buy them. Last year they had to use a forklift to get them on and off the ferry!” Poros looks proud, as if it were his own pumpkin.

Tarik just shakes it off though, as if it isn’t a big deal.

“You like pumpkins,” I say, calmly and without emotion, even though I want to squeal. Tarik, the half-naked, grouchy, reclusive orc, farms…and likes to grow big pumpkins. I am tickled by the revelation. Oh, and is mentoring a young orc.

“Tomorrow,” Tarik says to Poros, pointing toward the door. Poros takes the hint and leaves, waving goodbye with his cylinder, which bonks Tarik on the head.

Once Poros is gone, Tarik looks a smidgen more relaxed. He gathers the soup bowls and takes them to the sink. “I can wash the dishes,” I say, wanting to do something to help.

“No. You can check your gear to make sure it is okay. This rain should end tonight. You can go back to your eels tomorrow.”

Got it.

Most of the gear is fine. No problem. My other notebook is soaked.

As is my change of clothes. I string them up in the bathroom, along with the clothes I was wearing earlier, and hope they’ll dry before they mildew.

As I stand back to look at my clothes dripping onto Tarik’s bathroom floor, the tub outside calls to me.

I rub my thighs together in remembrance of earlier.

Gods, how am I going to get any sleep tonight, knowing how it sounds to listen to his heartbeat against his chest? Knowing how good his fingers are?