Page 9 of The Grinch Who Stole Orcmas

Joy

The old Majestic Theater has clearly seen better days. It’s a crumbling relic of Hollywood’s golden age. My heart races with excitement. Wouldn’t it be great if we find the presents before lunch? Although I have to admit, I’d kind of enjoy spending the day with Grum. He’s not bad to look at on his worst day, and today he’s acting almost… nice.

“Okay, big guy,” I whisper, “we need a plan to get inside and look for clues.”

Grum snorts, giving me an up-close view of those pearly tusks. The more I’m around him, the sexier they are. “How about we just walk in the front door? Place looks abandoned.”

I force my thoughts out of the whole “sexy” rabbit hole and take the opportunity to scold him. “And risk alerting any potential toy thieves? No way. We need to be stealthy.”

“Stealthy,” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. His pointed ears twitch slightly, and I find it oddly endearing. “Right. Because a nearly seven-foot orc and a woman in jingle bell earrings just scream ‘inconspicuous’.”

Despite myself, I giggle. “Well, when you put it that way… Oh! I’ve got it!” I rummage through my bag, pulling out two elf hats I’d packed for the Santa’s Workshop event. “Ta-da! Instant disguise!”

Grum’s expression is priceless—a mix of horror and disbelief that somehow makes his handsome face even more appealing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Come on, it’s perfect! We’ll pretend to be event staff scouting locations.”

“Scouting locations? For what? A Christmas horror movie?”

“No one will question it.”

“I’m green,” he growls. “Over six feet. With tusks. And pointed ears.”

I wave dismissively. “Exactly. Pointed ears. Just like an elf.” When his expression becomes even more glum, I make a last-ditch attempt to coax him. “It’s the star tattoo on your head. It screams…” I’m going to have to use my Oscar-winning actingtalent to say this next part. “Merry Christmas. Now put on the hat!”

“This color green clashes with my skin,” he protests.

I only realize the grumpy orc is joking when I see his lips trying not to twitch into a smile. After much-exaggerated grumbling and a few choice words in orcish—which sound gravelly and serious and somehow make me think of bedroom activities—Grum reluctantly dons the hat. It’s comically small on his massive head, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

As our gazes meet, he tugs it forward, purposely covering the pretty tattooed star. Too bad, because it just adds to his sex appeal.

We make our way to the back of the theater, where a rusty fire escape clings precariously to the brick wall. “After you, big guy.”

I wait for him to protest with a “ladies first,” but he sighs heavily, gives it a good yank to ensure it will hold his weight, and starts climbing. I follow, trying very hard not to notice how his muscles flex with each movement.

How is it we’ve been together for days and I failed to notice he has the finest ass this side of the Mississippi? And how, despite the musty theater smell, does he manage to emit a scent like pine and woodsmoke? It’s… distracting.

At the top, we squeeze through a narrow window into what looks like an old projection room. Dust coats every surface, and cobwebs stretch across corners like spooky garlands.

“Well,” Grum whispers, his breath tickling my ear in the close quarters, “no sign of your missing presents. Color me shocked.”

“No. Color you green,” I snip, hoping my snark covers the way goosebumps are tiding up the back of my neck from the effect his heated breath has on my skin.

“It’s not a total disaster… yet. We’ve only just started looking. Come on, let’s check downstairs.”

We creep down a rickety staircase, wincing at every creak and groan of the old wood. The main theater is cavernous, with rows of tattered seats facing a stage hidden behind a moldering curtain.

“Wait,” Grum suddenly hisses, grabbing my arm. “I hear something.”

We duck behind a row of seats. Grum pulls me close, tucking me next to his side. Oh my. He really does smell good.

Focus, Joy!

“I don’t hear anything,” I whisper.

Grum pulls me even closer, his warmth enveloping me in the dusty darkness of the old theater. “That’s because you have human hearing,” he grumbles, his breath tickling my ear. “Trust me, there’s definitely something moving around out there.”

I try to concentrate on the potential danger, but it’s hard with Grum’s strong arms around me. His delicious scent fillsmy senses, making it hard to concentrate on anything but his masculine presence.

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