Page 42 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

After carefully packing up what was left of the coffee cake, Tark turned to me, seemingly emboldened by the fact that I hadn’t run for the hills at his awkwardness. Without a word, he reached out, his calloused fingers curling gently around mine. The warmth of his touch spread through me like wildfire, and I couldn’t stop my gaze from darting down to where our hands met. He didn’t let go right away, instead holding on as if he needed the connection as much as I did.

Even Sharga gave a soft hoot of approval, flying over to settle on Tark’s broad shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver across my skin. With my hand in his, he led the way out of the saloon and into the bright morning light.

We ran into Ruugar outside.

“There you are, Tark,” Ruugar said, dipping his head my way. “Ma’am.”

“Nice day today, isn’t it my fine sir?” No, wait. That would fit better in the Regency era, not the Wild West. “Life is getting up one more time than you've been knocked down, right?”

A frown rose on his face.

“Um…” I really wasn’t coming up with stuff fast enough here. And I was an influencer. I should be quick on my feet and even faster with my tongue. “Don't squat with your spurs on.”

He blinked at me before his eyes flew to his spurs. I tried not to snicker when he squatted, curling his body around to see where his spurs might land. His eyes widened and flew to meet mine before his low laugh rang out. Straightening, he nudged his knuckles into my shoulder. “Aw, shucks, ma’am. That’s great advice.”

Tark glared at Ruugar’s hand. “What did you want?” he pretty much snarled.

“Oh, yes. I met someone, and I was looking for advice.”

Tark’s gaze narrowed on his brother’s face. These guys were universally gorgeous. Ruugar wasn’t quite as big as Tark, but he was big enough in his own right. All orcs appeared to be, however.

“What kind of advice?” Tark asked. “And who did you meet?”

Ruugar hung his head. “A woman.”

Tark’s head jerked around as if he thought he’d see her sauntering down the street. Returning his gaze to Ruugar, he scowled again. “What woman?”

“She was here a bit ago. I…can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Then go look for her instead of standing here, talking to us.”

“I would if I knew where she was, but I don’t.” Ruugar’s eyes flicked to mine. “How do you find a woman when you only know her first name?”

“That’s a tough one,” I said, thinking but not coming up with any solutions. “How did you meet her?”

“She was here to tour the town. I only saw her from a distance.” His voice dropped. “But our fingers touched and?—”

“Did you observe the proper rituals?” Tark barked, leaning toward Ruugar.

“There wasn’t time! She was getting into the car and then she was gone.” He sounded so forlorn, I wanted to hug him. I only resisted because Tark kept glaring.

Surely he wasn’t jealous.

Or was he? What an interesting notion right there. To be jealous, he’d have to like me. The thought made me want to squeal, a spontaneous thing I’d never done before since it was forbidden.

A decent squeal jerked out of me. While the guys frowned my way, and I swore Tark bristled as he peered around, looking for threats, I slapped my hand over my mouth.

“Excuse me. Burp,” I mumbled around my fingers.

Tark studied my face before turning back to Ruugar.

“Maybe ask Aunt Inla,” he said. “She’s good for advice. Or Dungar. Who’s supposedly lonely.”

“We all are,” Ruugar said with a sigh. “Aren’t you?”

“Um, well. Sometimes.”

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