Page 80 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

Lonesome Creek was taking off. My posts were catching fire, with tons of shares, likes, and comments pouring in. Many of my videos were going viral. Bookings had skyrocketed. The reservation line was ringing endlessly, and when I showed him, Tark, my sweet, wonderful Tark, looked at the screen with wide eyes, stunned and maybe a little overwhelmed.

“This is…good?” he asked, his voice full of cautious hope.

“It’s amazing.” I threw my arms around him. “It’s working!”

His biceps flexed as he lifted me off my feet, spinning in a slow circle. “It’s happening.”

The disbelief in his voice cracked something deep in my chest. He’d worked hard on this dream, and now, finally, it wascoming true. Success was rushing this way, and I was grateful I could be a part of it.

What an easy sell it was. I took video after video, content practically spilling out of every corner of this place. The glowing prairie at dawn, the orcs moving through town like a Wild West fantasy come to life, the way the wind caught the wooden storefronts, making them hum with promise.

But the best content of all? Tark himself.

“Hold still,” I said, angling my phone. He stood in the middle of the street, the rugged spire of the mountains behind him, his cowboy hat tipped low enough to cut a shadow across his dark eyes and chiseled features. He was an orc god come to life, and he was all mine.

“This is still strange,” he grumbled but didn’t move.

“You’re getting used to it,” I teased, stepping closer to adjust the shot. “And you look incredible.” Nothing beats a guy in chaps except for big, brawny orcs in chaps, boots with spurs, and a vest that only highlighted their bare, muscular chests. Tark in particular.

He ducked his head. “This only works because you’re handling it all.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please.” But secretly, I melted.

He might still fumble through social media and human customs, but he had no clue how swoon-worthy he was. I made sure to remind him of that fact daily.

“Let me make you lunch to celebrate,” he said after I'd gotten shots from every imaginable angle. His voice shone with that tenderness that turned me into a puddle.

“Shall we eat inside the saloon?”

“No, outside.” His chest puffed with pride. “A picnic. I saw them on the streaming images. I placed everything I’d made in the fridge.”

Strolling over to join him on the street, I curled my finger, waiting until he'd obliged, lowering his face for a kiss. “You know you don't need to keep using old Wild West wooing techniques. You've won me, love, heart and soul.”

“That doesn't mean the wooing should stop. I still need to keep you.”

The simplicity of his statement only made me adore him even more. If he wanted to sweep me away on a picnic date like some kind of romance movie hero, who was I to argue?

“I’ll grab a few things from the store while you prepare our meal then,” I said, already grinning at the mental image of him in that kitchen. He sure loved to cook, if only for me.

He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead and strode toward the saloon, his excitement so evident I swore he bounced on his spurred heels.

I followed him onto the boardwalk and turned to stride down Main Street, still half-lost in the daze of how incredible my life had become.

And then the car rolled in.

Seeing who was driving made my heart come to a shuddering halt.

My parents.

The world tilted beneath me, years of tangled emotions rushing up like a wave ready to knock me off my feet.

No. Not this time. I stiffened my shoulders, my heart hammering but steady. I could handle this. I wasn't the same Gracie they'd controlled and manipulated for most of my life. I was new, stronger, in love. Surely, they’d see that. Surely, they’d?—

The doors opened. My mother stepped out the passenger side first, her expression a delicate mask of concern, though her calculating gaze betrayed her. My father followed, stiff, brimming with restrained irritation, like usual.

Tough and sweet love all coiled together—a snake ready to strike where they sensed the most weakness.

Panic clawed at my ribs, but I shoved it down.

---