Page 9 of One Night with Her Grumpy Orc

Chapter 6

Grev

“Don’t put that there!” Bjorn has a stack of lumber on his shoulder as he yells at me.

Shhh, I almost say out of habit. Completely unnecessary. The sacred library is now a construction zone. Saws, drills, hammering. A cacophony of noise and dust that would blanche the toughest of librarians. There’s a crew of a dozen volunteers here helping. After the superintendent declared that our little Moonfang Haven Library was low on the priority to fix, I offered my construction crew incentive to help, then went around town and asked for more volunteers and supplies.

I regret asking Bjorn, as usual.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap back as I set the boxes of screws down with the rest of the fasteners. This is why I hate working with my brothers. They’re annoying, smelly, and bossy. “Don’t you have someone to save?” Please save me by going to rescue someone off the mountain.

“You. I’m saving you by making sure you don’t make a fool of yourself in front of your lady friend.”

His words stop me. There’s no mirror in the library, so I can only imagine that my face is a pale whitish-green. How does he know?

“It’s obvious. You’re always mooning over here. I mean, why else would you be here all the time? Besides, I saw you stare at her. And smelled the longing between you both. It was almost grotesque.” Bjorn winks at me. I just shake my head and grunt an obscenity at his general direction before setting the boards in place for the new wall inside.

Each zip with the screw gun, I see her face in my mind. Happy with me. Pleased with all the work we’ve done. And wanting. Wanting to be held by me again. Wanting to be kept warm all night with me, preferably in a proper bed. Though I’ll huddle for warmth all damn day and night if that’s what she likes.

Pear and vanilla wafts around me, drowning out the scent of sawdust and sweaty dudes. And there she is, dark hair in a bun, chin quivering but lifted high, thick black-framed glasses partway down her nose as she surveys the construction of her small kingdom.

Steady, I walk toward her, unwilling to make a show by running to scoop her up. My heartbeat thumps in my ears, pushing me forward. Our eyes meet from across the room and her face lights up at the sight of me. My heart does a double-thump in happiness. Two people I’ve never seen before appear on either side of her. There is some similarity between them and her; must be her parents. My heart swells at the thought of her parents braving the half-frozen sea to make it out here and help their daughter.

But then I watch their scowls and narrowed eyes as they take in the scene before them. The woman’s eyes land on Gordon, who is mudding over the screw holes on the drywall, and when one tentacle applies the mud, and another scrapes it smooth, her mouth drops open, and she wavers on her feet like she’s going to faint.

These can’t possibly be Betty’s parents. Can they?

Betty puts her arm around the woman, whispering to her as she guides her over to the chair at Betty’s desk. The man follows behind them, eyes shifting from each worker in the room, as if someone might attack him. Nobody pays them any attention.

“Betty. How are you today?” I ask when I find my feet.

“Oh Grev. I’m as well as can be expected, I suppose. It’s incredibly heartening to see everyone unite to help put the library back together. The outside looks almost as good as new, minus the paint.” Her eyes crinkle in delight behind her glasses. I love that look. I love the way she notices all the details.

“Too cold to paint outside yet. We’ll get it once it thaws.”

“Betty, is this island cursed? Is that why it’s still so bloody cold?” The man, her father, I assume, asks. I try very hard not to roll my eyes. Thankfully, Betty rolls hers.

“No, Dad. It’s just an Arctic blast. And you know, climate change. Late season storms happen everywhere. You know that. Remember when I was a kid and our melon patch died in the late June frost?” She gives her dad her pointed librarian look from over the tops of her glasses and I melt.That’s my girl.

Except, she isn’t my girl.

“Grev, I’d like to introduce my parents, Debby and Ted. Mom, Dad, this is Grev. He’s the one who rescued me from being crushed by the debris.” Betty gives me a big smile. Her hand comes up to my bicep, her touch a satisfying sultry heat, but her mom squeaks in protest and Betty’s hand drops to her side, lips rolled in.

“Nice to meet you both. Your daughter has been such an asset to our community and library.” I hold my hand out to shake theirs. They both stare at my hand, disgust written plainly on their faces, as if my hand contained some horrible plague for them to contract.

Breath steady, I lower my hand to my side and turn to face Betty and block them from my sight. “I was going to check on you, but I thought some rest might be best.”

“That’s sweet. I’m okay. They showed up and they’ve been helping around the house yesterday and today. But I needed to put my hands on the library myself.” There’s a wistful look on her face, a longing for something, probably books. “I can’t just sit at home and not do anything. This is mine, ya know?” She shrugs those sweet shoulders. There’s a loose strand of hair, I tuck it behind her ear, enjoying the spark of electricity that runs from her to my finger. Her skin is silky and delicate and warm. Bliss.

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