Page 88 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

“They are.”

I watched her breathe in slowly, then push the air out with a shuddering sigh. She rubbed her hands over her face, maybe wiping away decades of pressure. Then she looked back up at me and smiled—the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.

She surged forward, throwing herself into my arms. Sharga flapped his wings where he clung to her shoulder but maintained his roost.

I caught her easily, cradling her against my chest.

She gripped my vest and pressed her face against my skin. “Thank you.”

I kissed the top of her head. “Always.”

It was over. Her past, her parents, the weight they’d chained to her.

She was free.

She was mine.

And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel lonesome.

Chapter 32

Epilogue

GRACIE

Two Weeks Later

Showtime.

On the opening day of Lonesome Creek Ranch, the late afternoon sun bathed the cozy town in a warm golden light, casting long, lazy shadows across the wooden storefronts. The big red barn, decked out in ribbons and adorned with wildflowers, stood proudly at the edge of it all, its fresh paint gleaming. Music spilled from the saloon, a cheerful tune blending with the sound of laughter and spurred boots against the boardwalk. Everywhere I looked, guests wandered the main street, a moving picture of the human-orc Wild West dream my new family had built.

I squeezed Tark’s hand, my heart swelling. The opening was a success. The town looked perfect. Reservations were booked ahead for months. And this wedding? This wedding was going to generate even more excitement. A wealthy human’s extravagantcelebration, right here in our little town. One more thing proving Tark and his brothers' vision had been right all along.

Beside me, Tark stood tall, his cowboy hat casting a shadow over his sharp jawline, his dark eyes scanning the scene with something close to awe. Maybe even pride.

Sharga sat on my shoulder, preening as if he was responsible for it all and Podar, secure in his harness that he adored, sat at my side, his purr rumbling through his chest. He kept sniffing my leg, and his whiskers tickled.

“You did it,” I told Tark.

“Wedid it.” He lifted my knuckles for a soft kiss. “Together.”

I grinned. “Be honest. Did you ever think marketing to humans meant you’d be hosting elaborate weddings?”

He grunted, shifting his weight. “No. But humans seem to like them. They also seem to like throwing grain at the newly mated couple. Which is wasteful. Chumbles would eat that. Though maybe the mama one will. Tonight. She’ll bring her chicks with her.”

“As long as she stays far away from me.” I laughed, leaning into his side. “That’s rice, love. It's tradition.”

He tilted his head, considering this. “Would you want a wedding like this?”

I blinked up at him, my heart skipping.

We'd done things the orc way already. The quiet, intimate claiming. No fanfare, no grand events. Just him and me and all the promises wrapped up in his steady hands.

“Maybe one day, we could add a few human touches. For fun.”

His grip on my hand tightened. He liked that idea. A lot.

Tark might not always say what was in his heart, but I could feel it in every touch, every glance. And right now? It was there in the curl of his fingers around mine.

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