Page 7 of My Orc Pen Pal

I will bethe first to admit that I am not an expert on human women. The singlerealrelationship I’ve had, back in Bramblewood Bluff, was with a lovely half-pixie female named Tracy, and lasted approximately four months.

It had been an education, but not exactly helpful here. I hate to say it, but I think I was going to have to ask Tarkhan for some advice later.

Because…because Ithinkthat was the scent of Rosemary’s arousal, teasing my tongue as we drove toward the restaurant.

And when I opened her door for her and took her hand as we climbed the steps, I was incredibly aware of her warmth pressed at my side.

We sat across from one another at the restaurant, and while I missed the sensation of her nearness, being able to gaze at her without excuse was the better alternative.

The server brought us water, and Rosemary asked if I wanted anything else. “May I see the wine list, please?”

As the older female bustled off, Rosemary nudged me with her foot. “Oooh, wine? Fancy!”

“You don’t mind, I hope? I just felt that tonight…” My gaze dropped to her shoulder, laid bare by that stunning dress she wore. “Was momentous. We should mark it somehow.”

“Hey, I’m all for wine. Are you okay with seafood? I like the fried flounder here.”

Ah, yes, she’d said that. I perused the menu, a little overwhelmed by the options. “I’m not used to this much seafood. It’s limited in the Rockies.”

“Not as fresh, certainly,” she giggled. Her finger—capped with a bright pink nail—tapped a section of my menu. “The Waterfront is known for their oysters, although the season is over, so they ship them in. Seafood linguine is always a safe option. Their fried seafood platter is good, but it’s alotof fried food.”

Somewhere around the oyster dissertation I’d stopped looking at the menu, more pleased to watch Rosemary. Now she caught my intensity and flushed. “Or whatever you want, I guess.”

I want you.

I didn’t say it. Not yet.

Instead, I smiled gently. “If you recommend the fried flounder, I’ll get that. But I’d like to order a side or appetizer…” I patted my stomach. “I suspect I eat more than you do.”

She brightened at that. “The she-crab soup or the crab wontons are the best apps here. Oh, and their hushpuppies are amazeballs!”

Chuckling, I nodded and scooped up our menus. “Done and done.” When the server returned, I ordered everything she’d recommended.

Then, cupping the wine glass in my much larger hand, I settled back in the booth. “Okay, I’ve been dying to ask; the dress you’re wearing. Did you design it?”

From her pleased blush, I’d guessed correctly. She glanced down at herself. “I did. I found the fabric on sale, and I just wanted to mess around with a design I’d seen online somewhere. It turned out so well that I like wearing it. Look!”

With that, she scooted to the end of the booth and stood. Before I could wonder if I was supposed to follow her, she spun in a circle, causing the skirt to swoosh out around her. “And look! Pockets!” she exclaimed, shoving her hands in her pockets and looking so damn pleased with herself that I had to chuckle.

“Truly remarkable!” I saluted her with my glass. “And it billows beautifully.”

It was her turn to chuckle at the compliment, and she spun again. Only this time, she tilted to one side, perhaps too enthusiastically, and stumbled toward my side of the booth.

In a blink, I reached out to steady her, and she ended up sinking down beside me. I couldn’t complain, not with her so close. Not with my hand still on her arm.

I held her topaz gaze and murmured, “You are a wonder, Rosemary.”

Her grin didn’t belie her flush. “Most people on the island call me Ro. Or RoRo if you’re one of my nephews.”

“Would you prefer me to call you Ro?” When we’d met on MonsterSmash, she’d used the tagRosemary, and it wasn’t until we began to email that I discovered it was her real name. “I don’t mind.”

She shrugged, then seemed to reconsider. “I guess I kinda like that you call me Rosemary. It sounds more…formal.”

“I could come up with a nickname if we ever needed to be informal.” I moved my hold down to her hand, trying to keep it casual while I focused on placing my wine by my plate. “Pookie? Sweetheart? Muffin.”

“Peanut,” she suggested with a straight face. “Honeybun? Hey, you?”

“Darling. Steve?”

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