Page 70 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

It would kill my soul to do something like that.

Chapter 25

Tark

Gracie didn’t come back downstairs. I told myself she was tired from her run-in with the chumble mother, the attacking sorhox. That her ankle hurt more than she’d told me.

It had nothing to do with me. But doubts kept banging on my skull, demanding entry. It was all I could do to keep them out.

She wasn’t upset about the redness. She told me it was alright. She even said she wanted more.

I was going to believe in Gracie even when I found it nearly impossible to believe in myself.

When she didn’t come down the next day for breakfast, or lunch, or even dinner, I told myself she still needed time to rest. Maybe to think.

But then she didn’t answer her phone when I called her. Thoughts that she might be rejecting me started slicing through my belly. It hurt, and I did my best to shove them away. No, I told myself, I believed in Gracie. In us. And I was going to fight for us with every tool at my command.

So I went to visit Dungar for last-minute suggestions for how to woo my mate, and I came away with a wonderful idea. It took me a bit to gather what I needed, and the sun had set, and a bigold moon had risen before I was in position behind the hotel, directly below Gracie’s window.

I crouched, my boots crunching on the gravel behind the building. The sweetness of blooming something-or-others floated through the air, and the moon above hung over us like a fat, silver ball. Not threatening to fall on us or anything. It looked pretty. Peaceful. Perfect for what I had planned for tonight.

Thiswould show her I cared.

Thiswould show her we deserved a life together.

My knees groaned as I settled on the ground, though not louder than the pounding in my chest.

Dungar’s words clattered in my skull.

“A serenade,” he’d said, like it was obvious. “Soft words to melt her heart. That's what you need to do, Tark.” He’d grinned, and I could tell that while he might be envious, he was happy for me. I'd be happy for me too as long as this worked.

I’d thought about his plan for over an hour, and I still wasn’t sure it was the best option for me, but I’d try. I had to dosomething.

My fingers looked too thick to pluck the strings of the borrowed gee-tar resting beside me. It belonged to a friend of a friend of Dungar's, and it had been brought to me from three towns away. Pete told me I was welcome to use it as long as I didn't snap it in half. I tried not to think about that now.

Warm light leaked around the curtains in Gracie's window above. Maybe she was sitting up there, wondering what I was up to. Or maybe she wasn’t thinking of me at all. The second thought stung more than I liked.

I scooped up a pebble and rubbed it between my fingers. It felt right, and I took that as a good sign. My hands fumbled as I slung the gee-tar strap over my shoulder, the curve of the instrument awkward against my bulky frame. It was too small,or my body was too big, and either way, it didn’t sit right. But I tried.

I tossed the pebble toward Gracie's window—and missed.

Alright. Searching around, I found a bigger pebble and threw that. Still missed.

With a grumble, I located an even bigger pebble and studying the distance, I made a better plan for my throw.

One good toss, and it banged against her window.

Yessss.

Before I could let stress flood my veins, I thrust my fingers against the strings, the sound it released a squeaky, twanging mess. I snatched my hand back like the thing had bitten me, glancing quickly up at her window. No movement. At this point, that was good. She'd expect something better than what I'd produced with the gee-tar so far.

Focus was hard with all my doubts pushing at me like a sorhox in a pen too small. Songs weren't orc ways. Words with no action behind them floated away like smoke. But Dungar said they'd hold weight in this town and with a potential mate, and I wanted Gracie to feel her weight in my world.

My brain fumbled for the words I was instructed to use, and I scratched them up my throat as I stroked the strings again, grimacing at the discordant sound.

“Gracie,” I rasped toward the window, trying to put that “lint” in my voice Dungar and Pete said I needed.

No. Wait. Not lint.Lilt.

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