Page 28

Beth

“ O h, gosh, I’m sorry.” I eased away from him, planted my feet back on the riverbed, and quickly dragged my gaze from him. I was afraid he’d see the longing on my face.

“You…” He frowned.

While the guests cheered, I hefted the spear I somehow hadn’t dropped, examining the fish that had stopped flopping on the end.

“An excellent catch,” he said with a big grin.

Damn he was handsome when he smiled. Handsome when he stood this close to me wearing nothing but a damp loincloth that outlined everything. He was big all over. A single step, just a few inches, and my body could press into his slick skin, heat meeting heat.

I huffed out a breath, trying to bring my brain back into focus, but breathing did nothing to stop the ache expanding in my chest or the quiet, desperate wish that things were different between us .

The thought of… Well, I shouldn't be daydreaming about doing anything like that with Ruugar.

But a grin like that could send a girl straight to her knees. Heat crawled across my skin. I wanted to bottle up his smile and hoard it. If only he’d smile like that for me all the time, not because I’d done something useful, not because I’d surprised him. Because he wanted to.

If I had a choice, I couldn't pick anyone I'd rather share my first time with than this male standing so close to me I could almost taste him.

Couldn't do that, either.

Ruugar held my gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. I forced myself not to get my hopes up too much, not to let my heart get any wild ideas, but something in his expression made it nearly impossible to draw in a breath.

He grunted and turned away. “We need more fish for dinner.”

Ah, yes. Right.

I swallowed hard, making the lump in my throat go down. He was an honorable male, looking out for a human who’d been thrust into his life. It would be unwise for me to believe, even for a second, that he might see me any other way.

I forced a smile, pretending like the ground hadn’t shifted under my feet, like my heart hadn’t scrambled to protect itself from a fall it hadn’t been ready for.

He plucked my catch from the spear, tossing it onto the bank near the one he'd caught earlier. Nodding, I gripped my spear tighter, pretending my heart wasn’t bleeding .

More fish. Dinner. Focus on the task, not the hot orc standing too near.

Scanning the riverbed, I searched for movement. Cool water swirled around my legs as I stepped carefully over the stones.

“There.” Ruugar pointed a little ahead where a big rock lay on the bottom. The shadow of a fish floated nearby.

“I got it.” I tried to sound sure. Maybe my first catch had been luck and his heavy assistance, but I could prove it wasn’t.

I stepped forward and the rock beneath my foot wobbled. My balance tilted, my arms flailing as I tried to catch myself.

Ruugar's hand snapped out, latching onto my arm, but his foot hit something, and the world spun.

We toppled, landing in the water with a big splash.

For one stunned moment, I couldn’t process anything past the cold overwhelming me. A blink, and I realized I’d landed half sprawled across Ruugar’s chest, his arms firm around my back.

We both sputtered, coughing water. My hat had miraculously remained on my head, and I prayed the tight braid I'd pinned to the top hadn't slipped its binding to dangle down my back. I was barely pushing the boy thing as it was. One misstep and no one would continue to believe I was Ben.

My laugh burst out. “So much for the fish. I bet we scared them away.”

Ruugar didn’t move at all. I could feel every breath he took. His arms still held me enough to keep me from slipping into the shin-high water. The warmth of his skin seeped into me, winding itself around my heart.

If I stared at his lips, would he notice? If I tilted forward the slightest bit, would he?—

No. No, I couldn’t let myself do anything like that. Could I?

His face was so close. His eyes were warmer than they had any right to be, and they were locked on mine.

My pulse was pounding its way straight up my throat, and that nudged my laughter to the side. The air between us crackled, heavy with something I couldn’t name.

Was he feeling the same thing as me?

“You’re not hurt?” His voice came out rough, deeper than usual, though this guy had perfected deepness.

I shook my head, unable to speak, unable to move off him.

A second stretched. Then another. The world disappeared. No trickling water, no watching eyes. Just him. Us. I lowered my head and?—

“You two okay?” Pete called out from somewhere in the background, Carol murmured something about how treacherous the river bottom could be.

That yanked me back to the here and now so fast my stomach twitched.

Ruugar stiffened beneath me. In one swift movement, he sat up, lifting me with ease and setting me on my feet, rising to stand beside me. My skin burned even as cold river water sluiced down my frame .

A ridiculous, impossible yearning shuttered through my chest, something visceral, something I knew I had no right to feel. I clenched my jaw, hoping, praying, that my face didn’t betray the loss hollering through my bones. I swallowed but my damn spit refused to go down.

“I think we have enough fish now.” His tone came out controlled, but his eyes—wild and unreadable—betrayed him.

I barely noticed the water dripping from my clothes now. All I saw was the unmistakable shape beneath his soaked loincloth. It twitched, jutting forward.

I could not breathe. Heat slammed through me, pooling low, twisting deep. Had I caused it to happen? The very idea sent a dizzy, absurd thrill roaring through my veins.

But no. It had to be the water, the cold, something else. Not me. I’d swear he didn’t see me that way.

My pulse pounded in my ears, and for one wild second, I let myself imagine a world where he did want me. One where he wouldn't look away, wouldn't push me aside, wouldn't pretend I was another human under his care.

That world did not exist. If I wasn’t careful, I’d rip myself apart longing for what would never happen.

My face flamed, and I tore my gaze away, my heart hammering hard enough against my ribs to break them.

“You should change,” Ruugar said, his gaze locked on my chest.

I glanced down and—oh. Yeah, my body had responded to the cold .

Heat scorched my cheeks. I crossed my arms fast over my chest, but the mortification had already taken root. My body had turned against me, revealing too much.

I nodded, my throat too tight to form words, and turned before he could see the raw sting of rejection on my face. “I'll be fine. It'll dry.”

His jaw tightened. “I'll take care of the fish.”

“Alright.” I turned on my heel and waded to the shore. The others still sat by the fire, conversation drifting between them. I kept my arms crossed and angled away as I passed by them.

“Ben, you alright?” Mary asked.

I cleared my throat and deepened my voice. “Fine.” Please let me sound like a man.

“That river bottom can be tricky,” Carol said.

I nodded but didn't stop, making a beeline for the tent. Only when I’d zipped it closed behind me did I let out a breath. I sagged into the cleared space beside the sleeping bag, covering my mouth with my hand.

That had been too close.

Every second I spent near him gnawed at my restraint, unwinding my carefully built walls bit by bit. If I didn’t pull myself together, I was going to do something stupid. Disastrous even. Like believe that I was special to Ruugar.

My fingers twitched on the fabric of my sleeve, gripping, releasing, gripping again. My skin felt too tight, like I was trying to shove too much into a space already overflowing.

I willed myself to shake this off, to shake him off. Wanting things didn’t make them real.

I quickly stripped off my soaked clothes, rubbing my arms when a chill ripped through me. I tugged on dry clothing. With hurried fingers, I undid my braid, twisted my hair tight again, and secured it on the top of my head. Hat on. Mask in place. Disguise intact. More or less.

Taking a steadying breath, I stepped back outside and after hanging my wet clothing on the line someone had strung between two trees, I headed toward the cooking gazebo.

Ruugar stood at the counter, already working on the fish.

He’d put on pants, thankfully, but his chest remained bare.

Muscles shifted under his green skin as he moved, and the light caught the curve of his shoulders, the hard planes of his taut belly.

A few water droplets clung to him, trailing paths down his back.

Power lived in his every movement, grace in his every shift. He handled the knife with the same surety that he handled everything, like nothing in the world could shake him. If he knew I was watching, he gave no sign, but oh, how I was watching.

How could I not?

My fingers twitched at my sides, and I ached with an absurd, reckless need to follow one of those droplets down his body with my tongue, to let my hands learn the texture of his skin, the heat beneath.

It wasn’t fair that he could stand there, oblivious, while my insides twisted into a starving thing.

I tore my gaze away before I sank against him. Let myself go if only just once .

Stop. Stop .

I focused on the task at hand, helping prepare dinner. Wanting him wouldn’t change anything. All it would do was break me in the end.

I cleared my throat. “I'll handle the sides.”

His grunt meant approval or permission. That was all I needed.

I set to work, peeling and chopping vegetables, gathering containers of herbs, and dicing cragroot.

The rhythmic movements steadied me and kept my hands busy while my mind darted back to how he'd felt beneath me, how he'd looked in the water, how his gaze had met mine with heat.

Had I misread him from the start?

Ruugar wasn't the type to play games. If he'd been affected by me, it meant something. I just didn’t have any experience to know what.

Feeling a bit more upbeat, I finished the cragroots, arranging them in foil packets with oil and spices. Ruugar passed the cleaned fish to me without a word, and I carefully wrapped and seasoned each fillet, making sure everything was prepped for the grill.

When I set the last one down, Ruugar finally looked at me. Approval gleamed in his dark eyes.

Warmth spread through my chest. I liked this. Learning, helping. Cooking alongside him.

His lips twitched, like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure what or how.

Say it. Whatever it is.

I kept my breathing even, my hands still. But on the inside? I was anything but calm. As I waited, I swallowed hard. The moment stretched between us, and I wished, for the first time in forever, that someone would reach for me.

No, that he would.

Whatever it was, he didn’t say it. He didn’t reach out.

His turn away felt final, cutting through the fragile bit of hope I wasn’t supposed to hold onto.

I told myself not to react, not to feel it like a wound.

But the ache was already there, flowering in my lungs, choking out air I wasn’t meant to keep.

As far as I could tell, he didn’t even glance my way again.