Page 15 of How To Woo A Warrior Orc

“Well,” I tell him archly. “Thisismy favorite skirt.”

“You look beautiful in it,” he says, and the way he lingers over the word beautiful sends a fresh shiver of enjoyment down my spine. “I think you’d look lovely out of it, too.”

My eyebrows shoot up, and I let out a delicate cough. If he keeps this up, I’m not going to make it to dinner. I’m going to rip his one shirt off and see just what’s going on under there.

“I mean to say,” he clears his throat, his cheeks turning that adorable deep green. “You are perfect in everything.”

“Mmmhmm.” I nudge him playfully in the ribs, and he laughs. “I see how it is.”

At least, I really hope that’s how it is, because goodness gracious, I like him.

I want him to think I’m pretty. I want him to mean all the nice things he’s saying.

“You’re very handsome, you know,” I tell him, then look sideways, embarrassed at my sudden admission. “I’m not as good at this as you are.”

Oh, goddess, I want to dissolve into a blob on the floor. Why did I have to make it awkward?

When I glance back up, cowardly, he’s staring at me with intense concentration. He leans down until our faces are a mere inch apart.

I have to remember to breathe.

“What, exactly, do you mean by this?”

“I, uh, I?—”

My bravery flees as quickly as it came.

“If you mean that you… want more than just a friendship with me, Piper, then you don’t even have to try to be good at it. I’m not sure I could be wrapped any more around your finger than I already am.” The words are low and fervent, and a hot feeling that has nothing to do with shame and everything to do with desire floods me.

He straightens up, leaving me to process that, and without warning, puts his hand against my back.

By. The.Moon.

His hand is huge, something I knew, obviously, because it matches the rest of him. I still wasn’t prepared for the way it almost spans the width of my waist, his thumb curling around one side.

I want to ask him so badly what he means by me having him wrapped around my finger, but I also don’t want to be off-putting or needy or too much or any of the other things men I’ve been involved with have told me.

The question flutters around the back of my head, though, from the moment I make sure Velvet is still snoozing in her spot by the door, and the whole time we walk down to the square.

Ga’Rek is quiet too, and when I glance up at him, trying to gauge his mood, he looks singularly… anxious, which is a look I haven’t seen on his face since the first day he came to work for me.

I frown, confused. “Do you not like being around others? Is it too much?” I blurt.

The Night Market is hectic, it’s true, the usually sleepy Wild Oak Woods downtown square turned into a bustling destination spot twice a week. Merchants from all over the region travel to sell their wares, setting up stalls with brightly colored canopies. Vendors who live here are present too, several mainstays being the enchanted ice vendors who produce melt-proof ice and fruit syrup-drenched desserts.

Those who flock to the market are a mix of Wild Oak Woods residents and those who live in the Elder Woods, and it’s typically a feast for all the senses.

I could see why an Orc raised in the Underhill by the Unseelie fae might be overwhelmed.

Impulsively, I wrap my arm around his waist, or do my best approximation of it, because he’s built like a primeval tree.

He huffs a laugh, his breath warming the top of my head.

“No, I’m not anxious around crowds. If I’m anxious, it’s because I want to impress you.”

My heart skips a beat.

“Quick-sewn bespoke clothes! Silks and cottons! Leather trousers!” a vendor yells. “A pretty dress for a pretty girl!” I glance sidelong at the cart, which is indeed laden with beautiful fabrics and sparkling notions: crystal buttons and brass fasteners, metallic trim and vibrant tassels.

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