Page 37 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

I wanted to say something. Maybe tease, but all I could do was swallow the lump in my throat and nod stiffly, pretending like my pulse wasn’t a frantic drum in my ears.

He hadn't even noticed what he'd done. Why would he? I was just some foolish tag along, someone disrupting his carefully planned business. A burden with nothing to offer except more complications.

As I returned to the task at hand, lugging the saddle over to place it with the others, my skin buzzed with a quiet, aching awareness of him. And I hated myself for yearning for something I could never have.

The straps were sturdy, thicker than anything I’d dealt with before, and it took a few extra tries to undothe next saddle properly. Ruugar watched for a moment, nodding in approval, before striding over to the sorhox who'd pulled the cart. While I laid the saddle and harness on the ground with the others and went to the final sorhox, he unloaded and unhitched the cart, freeing the beast.

He worked silently, but I could feel him watching. Not critically, more like he was making sure I wouldn’t hurt myself. It was kind of sweet, actually. It made me feel protected in a good way. Not like he was trying to control me, but like he truly worried I might get hurt.

He didn’t even realize how dangerous that small bit of kindness from him was. It made me crave things I had no right wanting. A place here. A place with him. But I was trouble, and soon enough, he’d be glad to see me go.

I pulled the final saddle off with more force than needed. It nearly tipped me backward, but I caught myself in time. The sorhox let out a deep snort, flicking its ear toward me as if questioning my competence. Probably fair.

“You’re alright?” Ruugar barked loud enough the sorhox he was working with snorted and sidestepped away from him.

“I’m fine. Stronger than I thought I was.” I laughed. “This is fun.”

He blinked a moment. “How could you consider it fun?”

“Because it is.” Why wouldn’t it be?

Ruugar’s gaze lingered on me for a long time before he spoke. “You’re doing a good job.”

Warmth curled low in my belly.

While the sorhoxes went to the river to drink, we carried the saddles and harnesses to the storage area, and after wiping them down and rubbing oil into the leather, we placed them on hooks under the overhang.

By the time we’d finished, the sorhoxes were nibbling at the grass. Their hides gleamed wetly, telling me they’d taken a dip in the river while they were there.

“We’ll brush them after we eat, when they’re dry,” he said.

“Sorhoxes are incredible.” I felt lucky to be a part of this new venture.

Ruugar grunted. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him glancing my way. Something about his quiet acceptance unsettled me in ways I didn’t want to think about. More than anything, I wanted to keep standing where I was, listening to his voice, watching the way he moved. But if I stared at him for too long, I’d give myself away. I liked him. A lot. So I stepped back, dusted my hands on my pants, and cleared my throat.

“Let me show you around,” he said, and we walked side by side toward the large screened-in room with a shingled roof. “This is the cooking gazebo. We’ve built one at each campsite. They’re all laid out the same.” His gaze scanned the cabins. “We started small but plan to build four or five more cabins at each site to accommodate larger groups.”

He opened the door to the building and gestured for me to step inside. My boots thumped on the wooden floorboards, and I stopped in themiddle of the decent-sized room, taking in the sturdy tables lined up along the left side, loaded with things to cook with. A picnic table had been placed on the right, and someone had picked flowers and put them in a pretty vase in the center. Blinds had been rolled up and secured at the top of each screen panel, ready to be let down if it got too sunny inside or rained.

“We'll make all the meals here.” He waved to a gas fridge standing against the far wall, a fuel tank secured behind it. “You and I will cook and clean up for our guests.”

“I've never cooked before. I wasn't allowed to, though I asked to learn.”

He stared down at me before he growled. “I will kill them.”

I blinked. No one had ever offered to slay anyone for me before.

“Mount their heads on poles.”

Or that, either.

“Don't, um, bother.” Beheading people would be a bother, right? Legally if nothing else. “They're not worth going to jail for.”

“Things are different now, Bet— err, Ben. I’d do it. For you.”

“Thank you.” Why did the thought of him offering to lob off my father’s head make me want to cry? I mean, it would be gory, and hewasmy father. I couldn’t sanction anyone killing him. I just never wanted to see him again. But my eyes still stung.

“I’m sorry,” he said, staring at the floor. “I upsetyou.”

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