Page 27 of My Orc in Uniform

“You’re a good guy, Simbel. I know that. Mom knows that. I wouldn’t hate having you around the house.”

My lips twitched. “I wouldn’t hate that either, bro.”

“So…yeah. You’re cool. You make Mom happy.” He shrugged a third time, as if this wasn’t a big deal. “So put a ring on it.”

I couldn’t help the little snort of laughter. A ring? Rissa was myMate, which was so much stronger. Once she accepted the Mate bond, I would never leave her, wouldnever do anything to cause her anger or frustration or to doubt my love.

Still smiling, I stuck out my hand. “Thanks, Trick.”

He eyed me for a moment, then pulled his right hand from his pocket to shake mine. “No problem, bro.”

Bro. Heh.

Unable to stop grinning, I pulled him toward me and wrapped my arms around him in a gentle hug. And after only the slightest hesitation, Trick hugged me back.

If Rissa was mine, then so was this remarkable young man. I would become his stepfather, his older brother figure. Whatever he needed.

And together, Rissa and I would ensure Trick would grow into the good human he was shaping up to be.

Together.

Chapter Ten

Marissa

I didmy best to put some space between Simbel and me the following week.

It was…difficult.

For one thing, he visited me in the front office daily, his sweet smile and teasing jokes making me laugh despite my attempts to remain impervious. For another thing, I didn’twantto be away from him; I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him and announce to the world—or at least Eastshore Isle Upper School—that he was mine.

But for how long?

It was that thought—the reminder that the last time I acted this way, I was hurt—that made me come up with an excuse when he invited me to dinner Tuesdayevening. As much as Ididwant to join him at Pastabilities, and maybe kiss him again afterwards, I couldn’t.

I had to remind myself that I was a strong single mother who had gotten this far by being mature and responsible. I wasn’t the kind of young woman who made out under the bleachers anymore. I was the one whoset examples.

Yeah.

Luckily, Simbel had just smiled and shrugged. “That’s okay. We’re still on for the town Oyster Festival on Saturday, right? And clamming that night?”

I could pretend to have forgotten the date Patrick helped set up—me taking Simbel out on the boat Saturday evening. Clamming after dark was a fun experience, assuming the headlamps had batteries, and I thought it a little suspicious that Patrick was conveniently going to be at Ethan’s house that evening.

Was my son setting me up? Hedidcomplain that I was boring. Was this his way of making me less boring?

Five days later, I still had no answers, but my insides were all screwed up.

I wasn’t sleeping well. I wasn’t eating well.

It was like I was living in constant dread of something that was showing no signs of happening. Maybe I was wrong; maybe Simbelwouldn’twake up one day, look around, and decide he wanted nothing to do with a thirty-something mom and her turning-into-a-handful teenage son.

Maybe.

It was that reminder that got me out of bed on Saturday and had me make pancakes for Patrick. It’s a known fact that the only way to get a teenager out of bed before noon on a weekend was the smell of bacon and pancakes.

It worked, and I convinced him to help me weed the garden where I’d plant tomatoes in a month. By two, we were heading to the park, where the grill and bandstand had been set up. It seemed almost too warm to be having an oyster roast, but honestly, of all the roasts on Eastshore, this end-of-season one sold the fewest oysters.

“Hey.” I pretended to look around furtively, then slipped Patrick a twenty-dollar bill. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

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