Page 22 of One Forbidden Night with Her Orc Boss

“Both of you, shut it,” I growl, jerking my head toward Lucy, who glares at them. And I meanglare. I had no idea four-year-olds could be so fierce.

“Don’t sing about my mommy. Only I’m allowed to sing about her. And they’re not kissing.” She crosses her little arms and taps her foot. Jair’s head pokes up out of the hole at Lucy’s voice. Dirt smudged on both cheeks. He’s a little older than Lucy, and very reserved. He keeps an eye on her but continues to dig.

Torin gets down on one knee in front of her. “You are formidable, and correct. My apologies, Lady Lucy.” And with that, he bows. Behind Torin, Rael scoffs, but then makes eye contact with me and drops to one knee and also bows.

Lucy...Lady Lucy nods her head, appearing satisfied. “I would like to ride on your back around the yard,” she declares. Torin shifts so she can climb onto his back. He stands and together they lope around the yard, Lady Lucy on her valiant steed.

I can feel Natasha’s shoulders relax a little as she watches them. She takes a deep breath. “They’re not so bad once you get to know them,” I say, hugging her tight.

“Brann! Introduce me,” my dad demands. Trying not to sigh, we walk over to the lawn chair where my father is precariously perched, mead in hand. I’m about to speak when he stands to his formidable height. Gray beard swaying as he finds his footing.

“I’m Rvorick. Head of the Suthorn family. I hear you’ve lassoed my dear Brann’s heart.” He thrusts his hand forward to shake. Natasha stands a little taller, pulling slightly away from me, and shakes his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Natasha. And that’s my daughter, Lady Lucy.” The slight smile on her face makes my heart swell with pride.

My father nods in approval. “Strong, wide hips. Proven childbirth capability. Well done, Brann.” I don’t have to take a breath to know how deeply embarrassing his statement is. Growling at my father, I’m about to chew him out, but Natasha clears her throat, her chin up in pride.

“I hope that you look farther than birthing abilities for your son’s happiness.”

And that has my father’s wrinkled face break into a grin. “Spunk. Good. That’s just what my oldest needs. He has worked too hard lying to himself that he doesn’t need love. He needs someone like you to break him and build him up whole.”

Natasha sucks in a breath, clearly not expecting my eccentric father and his bizarre ways. “Let’s go check the lasagna, shall we?” I ask Natasha, pulling her away from him before he can drop any more ridiculous bombs on her.

“Wow,” is all she says when we are in the quiet of the kitchen. She’s watching Lucy through the window over the sink, who has introduced herself to Jair and implanted herself into his hole digging excursion. Every few minutes Natasha breathes hard, releasing her breath as if she forgot to breathe. Cautious, nervous still. How can I set her at ease?

“You’re doing great,” I say, trying my hardest not to enter into boss mode, coaching an employee. “Drink?” Maybe we all need something a little stronger.

“No, I need to keep my wits about me with your family.” She chuckles, but there isn’t any mirth.

“Don’t mind my father. He doesn’t get out much.” I hand her a glass of water. She takes it and I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and ease her hair away from her neck so I can nibble that tender spot below her ear.

“Don’t distract me,” she pushes me away playfully, and that makes me relax a little. “I want to make a good impression. Them all scenting my arousal is not my idea of a good impression.” She gives me a look. Very similar to Lucy’s glare from earlier. My heartstrings twinge and tug, so happy to have them both here.

“You might be surprised to know what constitutes a good first impression among orcs.” It’s impossible to wipe the grin from my face at her shocked expression.

Dinner is mostly a non-event. My brothers are asses. Torin less so, but he’s been bitter and grumpy after his wife died when Jair was a baby orcling. Rael has no excuse. Jair and Lucy compare notes on bugs they’ve touched. Father softens and is more cordial. He plays magic tricks with Lucy and Jair and tells them stories about my brothers and me as orclings. They aren’t great stories, but both kids giggle, eyes wide at the stupid things we did as kids.

Natasha never fully relaxes, but she gets close. She tells the story of her first search and rescue, as well as stories of medieval history that she loves. My father listens graciously, pulling the threads of her stories to add our own orcish history. Her eyes light up with every new revelation.

“Lucy, I want to show you something I’ve been working on,” I whisper to her once the table is cleared. She puts her tiny hand in mine, and hunched over, we walk down the hall to the room I used to use as storage. Natasha follows.

Opening the door to reveal the remodeled room, I wish I’d had a way to record Lucy’s reactions. First, a gasp of awe as she takes in the pale pink walls and gauzy curtains framing the window. “Go ahead, go in,” I encourage her. She takes two steps inside the room, spins in a circle, squeals in delight.

“Butterflies! How did you know they’re my favorite? And mushrooms and gnomes!” Her little hands ball into fists and shake in ecstatic joy. The final squeal pierces both my eardrum and my heart as she flings herself onto the bed, still wiggling in joy as she takes in the fairies and gauzy-drapey-curtain-thing Poppy at Grim and Bare It Tools assured me would be perfect around her bed.

“Oh Brann,” Natasha’s breathy calling of my name makes me rigid. “It’s gorgeous.” She reaches up to touch one of the silk butterflies that hang from the ceiling. “You did all of this?”

It takes tremendous effort to peel my eyes away from Lucy, who is still gaga over it all, to gaze at Natasha, who is just as awestruck. Grasping her hand, I pull her to me, to the bed where Lucy is.

“Lucy, I want you and your mom to feel comfortable here, like this is your home. Because you two are my home now.” I touch my heart. Lucy throws herself at me, hugging me tight around the neck. Natasha, both laughing and crying, hugs us both.

Eventually, once we’re untangled, Lucy asks her mom, “Mommy, does this mean we are going to leave our yellow cottage to live with Branny?” There’s a note of sadness in her voice that cracks my heart wide open. I have no intention of being the cause of sadness for either of them.

“You don’t have to,” I say, rushing to fix whatever problem I’ve just created. “This can be your place to visit. Like a play room! Or, we can move this to your little yellow cottage. Or, we can make up something new.”

“We don’t have to decide right now, lovebug,” Natasha says calmly, soothing both Lucy and me, her hands gentle on us both. We both sigh, and I catch the twinkle of amusement in Natasha’s eye at us both breathing in relief together.

“Come on, Branny, come play with me and Jair. Oh! Cookies!” Lucy practically shouts the word ‘cookies,’ as she grasps one finger and tugs hard, willing me to follow her out of the princess pink room.

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