Page 2 of Bound to the Orc Warrior

And Matt pushed me to do that, to leave with him. So seeing him again brings up all of that on top of the relationship stuff.

“It’s nothing,” I lie and squeeze her arm, giving a little tug to get us moving again.

Luigi’s is the best restaurant in town, in part because it’s the only restaurant left that’s not fast-food. The delicious scent of tomatoes and garlic sweeps over us as we pull open the heavy wooden door and step inside, and my stomach gives an appreciative growl.

“Oh!” Hannah says from beside me. “I just realized I got so busy I forgot to eat lunch.”

“Not me,” I say. “I only had two customers in the store today.” Thank god I started online sales. They’re the only thing keeping the shop going.

Away from the picture window, the light level drops to the cozy warmth of a golden glow, lighting the burgundy and dark wood interior in an intimate way. Faint instrumental music plays, just enough to add a pleasant backdrop to conversation. All of the restaurant’s four-person tables line the side walls, covered with long table cloths to turn them into buffets. The wooden bar at the back stands ready with several bottles of wine on display.

The room’s full of everyone who still lives in town from our high school graduating class. Trevor, Maria, Jules, Shonda, and the rest spin around as we enter.

And every single one of them stares at me, eager to see what I’ll do.

Because in the middle of the room, my high school sweetheart stands beside the woman he’s going to marry.

Matt’s still got his boy-next-door good looks, his pale, clean-cut face round and youthful, his blond hair just a little too long. It really worked for him when we were teenagers, but when he shoots me his boyish smile, I’m secretly thrilled it no longer makes my heart race.

At twenty-four, I don’t want a boy. I want aman.

“Naomi!” He starts forward, pulled up short by the woman clinging to his arm.

It’s my first time meeting Porsha, and she’s…

“Fucking hell,” Hannah breathes so quietly only I can hear.

I just stand there, stunned.

Looking at Porsha is like looking in a freaking mirror. She’s medium height and built large, with full breasts and stomach and an even bigger butt. Her medium-brown skin and looser 3A curls match mine, too. She’s pretty, and she’s staring back at me just as shocked as I feel. Then her expression hardens, her mouth pursing and her eyes narrowing as she side-eyes Matt.

A pinch of sympathy goes through me. It’s got to feel pretty shitty to find out you’re the carbon copy of your fiancé’s ex-girlfriend.

Matt grins on, oblivious. “Naomi, you have to meet Porsha. She’s fromNew York.”

Okay, maybe the asshole isn’t that oblivious, because he puts special emphasis on those last words, a silent taunt that I wouldn’t leave Ferndale Falls with him when we finished high school.

But how could I? Mom got sick, and Dad spent every day driving her back and forth to all the medical specialists for endless rounds of tests. The bookshop had already slowed down so much they couldn’t afford outside help. Sure, I’d wanted to leave, but not at the expense of my family.

“Hi, Porsha.” I give her a soft smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” It’s not a lie. Anything awkward about tonight has nothing to do with her.

And everything to do with Matt.

He comes in for a hug, and I sidestep before he can touch me.

And that’s when I see it—the spurt of anger that flares in his eyes, quickly masked. Yep, asshole knows exactly what he’s doing playing Porsha and me against each other. Only question is, which one of us is all of this directed at?

I hope like hell he’s trying to get one last dig at me and truly loves Porsha. Because I refuse to play his game.

“Come on.” I tug Hannah toward the table topped with Luigi’s famous shrimp fettuccini.

“Naomi.” Matt follows on our heels, his voice raised to put on a show for the crowd. “Don’t tell me we can’t be friends. Not after all the years we weretogether.”

Ugh, did he have to say it like that in front of Porsha? Her eyes get a little shiny and she blinks a lot like she’s holding back tears.

“Sure, Matt,” I say. “We’ll be friends just as soon as you start acting like one.”

He rears back, hand dramatically placed on his chest. “Me? What did I do?”

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