Page 10 of The Grinch Who Stole Orcmas

“What do you think it is?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

Grum is silent for a moment, his body tense as he listens. Then, gradually, he relaxes. “Probably just rats,” he mutters, but he doesn’t loosen his hold on me. “Still, we should get out of here before you start decorating this dump with tinsel.”

We stay like this for a few more moments, pressed together in our hiding spot. I’m achingly aware of every point where our bodies touch, of the rise and fall of his chest against my back. Part of me wants to stay here forever, safe in his embrace.

But when I finally realize an army of rats might be gathering forces to attack us, I’m suddenly eager to leave our hiding spot.

“I don’t want to get eaten by rats.” I rise, immediately missing his warmth.

Grum chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Don’t tell me the fearless Joy Noel is scared of a few little rodents?”

“There’s nothing little about L.A. rats,” I mutter, already inching toward the exit.

The bright sunlight is almost blinding as we make our way out of the dim interior. Standing on the sidewalk, we blink as our eyes adjust.

“Well,” I sigh, trying to keep my voice upbeat, “I guess that was a dead end. But we’ll find another lead, I’m sure of it!”

Grum rolls his eyes. “Your optimism is exhausting, you know that?”

I grin up at him. “Someone has to balance out your grumpiness. So what’s our next move, Mr. Scrooge?”

He glances at his phone, then cocks an eyebrow. “How about lunch? I’m starving.”

My stomach growls in response, making us both laugh. “I think that’s a yes,” I say.

Twenty minutes later, we’re seated at a cozy booth in the Brushfire restaurant, a trendy spot I’d read about but never had the chance to visit. As we settle in, the intimate lighting casts a warm glow on Grum’s green skin. He looks… different here. Softer, somehow.

We peruse the menu and, our tastes being surprisingly similar, we decide to order two dishes and share.

“So,” I begin, taking a sip of my wine, “tell me about life in the Integration Zone. What’s it like?”

Grum’s amber eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of vulnerability. “It’s… complicated,” he says, his deep voice rumbling. He stops talking, as though those two words were a sufficient description.

I tip my head, wordlessly requesting more, fully committed to waiting him out, forcing him to talk.

Finally, he says, “We’ve built a community, but it’s not always easy. We’re separate from humans but dependent on them. And they don’t understand us.”

“What don’t they, uh, we understand?” I lean in, genuinely curious.

Perhaps I asked the right question, or maybe the wrong one, because the grumpy green orc launches into a tirade I imagine he’s spewed on many occasions. He talks about being fenced into the Integration Zone.

“They let you out now, though. Right?”

“Yeah. Until recently, it was only on work permits.” Then he talks about the lack of resources, lack of decent jobs, and the difficulty getting into college except through distance learning.

As he goes on and on, I realize a couple of things. One, he—and all the Others—have every right to be pissed. And two, this man, um, male, however irritating he may be, is… brilliant and articulate.And sexy,the back of my mind pipes up.

A small smile tugs at Grum’s lips. “And another thing most humans don’t understand is our sense of smell. Humans are always surprised when we can tell their emotions.”

I laugh, then pause. “Wait, you can smell emotions?”

“Amongother things,”he chuckles. Is it my imagination, or does his gaze linger on me a bit longer than necessary?

As our lunch progresses, Grum shares stories of daring fire rescues and the camaraderie among his fellow orc firefighters. I find myself laughing at his dry humor and marveling at his bravery.

“What about you?” he asks suddenly. “How’d you end up running a Christmas shop?”

For a moment, I freeze, memories threatening to surface. But I push them away with a bright smile. “Oh, you know. I’ve always loved the holiday season. Seemed like a natural fit.”

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