Page 8

“No. They stay the way they are. In fact, they get bigger when a woman delivers a child. They fill with milk and…” Yeah, time to stop talking or he’d turn so dark green, he’d blend in with the grass.

“This is troublesome.”

“Some males would not agree.”

“I'm not sure why. If you didn't have them, you could better disguise yourself as a young male.”

“I'm sure I could,” I said dryly. “I'm not binding them. That would not only be uncomfortable, but I’d also sweat in the heat and rub. And it would be hard to breathe.”

He nodded slowly. “I'll buy loose things for you then. Can you contain them in some way?”

“They’re already contained by my bra.” That I wasn’t going to show him. I was still trying to process “mam mounds”.

“They shift with your movements.”

“Because they’re part of my body.”

“A softer part than, say, your legs.”

“I’ll try not to let them jiggle.”

He still hadn’t stopped frowning. Or staring at my chest. “I appreciate that.”

This was going to be quite interesting. I assumed he hadn't seen breasts before, so it would be an eye-opener if he ever did. Not that I'd be showing him mine.

Now my face was really getting hot.

“I'll keep my bra on during daylight hours. That'll keep them from getting too rambunctious.”

His scowl deepened. “Good.”

“Anything will be better than that wedding dress.” My snort rang out before my smile faded.

When I was a little girl, I'd had big dreams of one day marrying, of leaving my father's control.

True freedom seemed farther away now than it had back then.

But a kid didn't understand the realities of life. An adult sure did.

Ruugar stood and picked up his plate. “You’ll have to wait here while I get what you need in town. We leave at noon.”

I didn't have a watch. Not even a phone. I'd had one, of course, but I'd known better than to bring it with me. They would've tracked me here within minutes. “I’ll be ready.”

He grunted, his version of acknowledgment. “Don't leave the building.”

Remaining here meant hiding. Staying out of sight while he went into town. My stomach knotted.

He took his plate to the sink that still held dishes from yesterday and came back over to the table and reached for my plate.

When our fingers touched, a spark shot through me.

Static electricity. That’s all it was. He froze, staring at our hands like I held a light saber and was about to use it to behead him .

We hadn’t touched on purpose. Not really. He was reaching for the dish at the same time as me. An innocent thing. But for one stupid moment, I let myself pretend that little jolt meant something to him as well.

I think I’d read that it was common for orcs to have fated mates. How interesting that would be. Did they know the other person was “the one” right away? Oh, shit.

“Do you have a fated mate?” I half-bellowed. Jeez, maybe he was already married and here I was, dreaming about living forever in this cute little ranch house. Washing the dishes. Testing out his vacuum—assuming he had one. Everyone did, right?

“No,” he barked, his gaze slashing away from mine. “No mate. None at all. Haven’t licked any palms yet.”

Whatever that meant. I would’ve asked for clarification, but he’d spun away with my plate so fast, what was left of my toast went flying. He swiped it out of the air and carried it over to put in a bowl to the right of the sink.

“For the crows,” he said as if that explained everything.

“Crows?”

“I don’t keep any as pets. That’s Tark, not me.”

“Tark.”

“My brother. He takes care of wounded creatures. He has a crow. Or a raven. I can’t remember which. It makes cat sounds.”

“Cat sounds? ”

He made a long, mouth stretching meow sound.

I nodded, though I had no idea what he meant.

“Tark also has a three-legged bobcat,” he said.

Caring for wounded animals? “He sounds like a great guy.”

“He is. Good looking, like Sel. Stay away from Tark.”

“I’ll try.” Didn’t he remember that I wasn’t going to meet anyone in this town?

“He’s got a mate. Gracie.”

“Is she an orc too?” I asked.

“Human.”

“So what does all that have to do with putting my leftovers in a bowl?”

“I feed the crows.” His shoulders drooped. “They get hungry, and they’re friends.”

So sweet. “I could feed them for you while you go into town.”

“You can’t go outside.” He turned to face me. “Remember.”

“Ah, yes, right.” I almost felt sad that I couldn’t feed the crows. “Maybe I could watch you feed them through the kitchen window?”

“Yes, that would be alright.” He lifted the bowl and trooped over to stuff his feet into his boots by the back door.

As he left, shutting the door behind him, I rushed to the sink and peered out the window, watching as he strode across the back lawn and flung the contents of the bowl out onto the lawn.

“Crow friends,” he called out. “Crow friends!” Pivoting, he walked back to the house.

Surprisingly, five crows landed on the peak of the barn and watched as he strode toward the house. As soon as he’d come inside, they flew down and landed near the food, plucking their way over to it while peering around to make sure it was safe.

“Crow friends?” I asked as he shucked his boots by the back door.

“It’s… They only come when I call them that way.”

It was quite endearing, actually. I wanted crow friends too.

“I need to, um, clean up before I go to town,” he said, his face and pointed ears darkening. He placed the bowl beside the sink. “And clean up my house. I don’t, uh, usually keep it this way. I’ve been…busy. Not sick. I don’t get sick!”

“That’s good. You go get ready. I’ll take care of all this.” So exciting. I was going to get to wash dishes , and no one was going to tell me I couldn’t. “You cooked. I'll straighten things up.”

His brow furrowed. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.” I meant it. It shouldn't be that complicated.

Ruugar hesitated, then gave me a slow nod.

He strode down the hallway and returned a short time later dressed in clean jeans and another vest over his bare chest, one in matching denim this time.

With only a grunt in my direction while I sashayed my hips with my arms buried elbow deep in sudsy water, he crossed the kitchen and grabbed the cowboy hat hanging on a peg by the back door.

When he settled it on his head and adjusted the brim, my heart flipped.

He looked every bit the rough riding orc cowboy, all broad shoulders and quiet strength.

Something low in my belly tightened. He was handsome. Rugged in a way human men never could quite pull off. Did he have any idea how impossible it was not to stare at him all the time?

He turned back to me. “Stay inside. Don’t answer the door. If anyone comes near?—”

“I’ll hide,” I said. “I won’t put myself in danger. I promise.”

“Good.”

“Yes, good.”

“I won’t be long. We’ll leave soon after that. When we get back… Well, we’ll talk.”

I had to come up with a plan before then. This was temporary. I was temporary. I doubted he’d be sad when I left. Maybe he’d even breathe a sigh of relief, happy to be rid of the burden.

His expression stayed tense, like he didn’t like leaving me alone. But finally, with one last nod, he stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door firmly behind him.

The lock clicked into place, and the house fell silent.

Seven days. That was all I had. And after that, this strange, quiet piece of freedom would disappear. He’d go back to his life, and I’d go back to what? Running? Hiding? I doubted Ruugar would even think of me once I was gone. But I’d remember this. I’d remember him .

He was being kind, that was all this was. Keeping me safe from a sense of duty. An honorable thing to do, nothing more. But still, some hopeless part of me wished he’d look at me like I was more than a problem to solve.

I stared down at the dishes I was still washing, then watched the crows feasting on the leftovers. It wasn’t easy, but eventually, I shoved my sadness aside and started humming again.

The dishes didn't take long. Warm water, soap, scrubbing. Simple and straightforward. Before long, everything was put away in the cupboards, and there was something satisfying about putting his place in order. Like I’d accomplished a small but meaningful thing.

I wiped down the table and counters, then dried my hands and wandered into the living room.

Blankets lay strewn across the couch.

I stared at them, realizing he’d slept here. I mean, I knew he must've. He'd insisted I take his bed, even making it up with clean sheets.

Big as the couch was, it wasn’t big enough for an orc to sleep on. His feet must’ve dangled over the end. A blanket lay on the floor, and I’d bet anything it kept sliding off him all night long.

For a moment, I stood there, my heart aching for some odd reason.

Then I reached down and lifted a blanket to fold.

His scent clung to it, warm, earthy, something utterly him.

I tightened my fingers on the fabric, holding it too long before forcing myself to fold it properly.

It was ridiculous, the way my heart twisted at the thought of him sleeping here, on something too small for him, just to give me comfort.

I shook my head and finished tidying up before slipping into the bathroom to shower and get ready.

If I was going to turn myself into Ben, I still had a lot of work to do.