Page 22 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

I scooped up my hat from the table and centered it on my head.

Then whistling under my breath, I left the saloon and called for my sorhox, Castree, to come take me home.

Chapter 8

Gracie

Iwatched through my window as Tark left the building, Sharga riding on his shoulder. He strode out into the street and while moonlight outlined his big frame, he released a low, whoop, whoop, whoop sound from his throat.

Pressing my face against the glass, I stared, knowing I should turn away and brush my teeth, put on my nightie, lounge on the bed with a good book. I could not look away. The story unfolding down on the street held me captive.

Thunder rang out but the dark sky remained scattered with only twinkling stars. Not a cloud in sight.

A sorhox roared past the big red barn at the end of the road. It lowered its head, its enormous, curved horns aiming right for Tark.

Gasping, I struggled to undo the latch to lift the window so I could scream for him to watch out. I couldn’t get the darn thing to turn, and my heart slammed against the inside of my ribs as the beast drew near, its long, clawed feet stirring up dirt that flew up behind it.

But before it could impact with Tark and before I broke all my nails trying to claw through the window, the beast came to a skidding stop, sending dirt across Tark’s tall frame. The creaturelowered its head and blew flaming smoke from its nostrils as Tark took the sorhox’s head in his big hands and stroked the beast’s cheeks. The creature pretty much wriggled with pleasure and blew more fiery smoke while Tark continued to rub, moving around to the side of the enormous creature to scratch behind its ear.

It acted like a fluffy cat purring while being patted, coiling its spine and even stretching out a yawn.

He leaped onto the beast’s back, and when he looked up, toward my window, I shrunk back, hiding behind the curtain, though I wasn’t sure why. He stared for a long while before nudging the sorhox’s side with his heel. The creature lumbered around and started trotting, taking Tark out of town and from my view.

I sagged against the wall, my legs shaking more than they should be from such a simple encounter. I traced my finger across my lips and my eyes slid closed. In a flash, I was back beneath Tark again, lying on the floor without thinking once about what in the world I was doing.

Finally, I made myself leave my hiding spot. I unpacked and then washed up and put on my nightgown in the bathroom, opting not to use the tub tonight. I was about to lounge on the bed and scroll my social media feeds when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

I didn’t even have to look to see who was calling. Mom and Dad. They loved three-way conversations and they must feel it was time for another. Maybe this would be a simple check-in. We’d talk about nothing and then they’d hang up.

And maybe that sorhox down there would propose marriage to me.

I girded myself for an unpleasant encounter.

Scooping up my phone, I chose to sit in the sturdy chair by the small table instead of the soft-appearing bed. I couldn’t hold back my scowl.

My thumb hovered over the power button—so tempting, so easy to just not answer—but guilt won out. It always did. Plus my worry they’d escalate things if I didn’t answer.

After grabbing a tissue from the box I’d set on the table before going to the bathroom, I clicked to answer their call.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” I said, tucking the faint tremor in my voice underneath a layer of calm I didn’t feel.

“Gracie, sweetie! Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Mom cooed, her words dripping with honey so thick I felt myself sticking to it already.

“Darling, it’s beenforever,” Dad chimed in with his usual TV-ready enthusiasm.

“We spoke last week.”

“Yes, well. You sound well,” he said. “So well. Are you eating enough? You don’t sound like you’re eating enough.”

If I rolled my eyes any harder, they'd be halfway out of Lonesome Creek by now. I took a steadying breath. “I’m fine, Dad. Busy, but fine. I'm eating well.” I was not going to tell them about the amazing meal Tark had prepared for me. Or about Tark, who was my…nothing—so far.

“You’re always busy these days.” Mom released a well-practiced sigh. “We barely see you anymore. You know, your father and I were just talking about the old days. How much fun we all used to have filming together. Do you remember, sweetie? All the laughs, all the adventures?”

“Sure, I remember,” I said lightly, even as my stomach twisted itself into a perfect square knot. Cold mornings under hot lights. Fake smiles stretched so thin they burned. Cameras capturing every slip of my teenage insecurities. My plump days. My too-skinny days—per the never-ending paparazzi watch.Each pimple on my face. I swear, even every time I had my freakin' period. They wanted to know it all, and they’d dig and dig until they exposed it. Then laugh when I cringed and slunk away. “Lots of adventures.”

I delicately tore the tissue in half, laying one to the side while I attacked the other, biting bits off with the tips of my fingers.

“The fans still remember you,” Dad jumped in. “The producers were telling us yesterday how much people still adore you.”

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