Page 36 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

Carol chuckled as she slipped down from her mount, into Pete’s arms. “If it's anything like horseback riding, we’ll all be sore.”

Pete stretched out his legs, grimacing playfully. “Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

I had a harder time getting down myself, my legs stiff from gripping Barg’s sides for so long. Ruugar steppedcloser as if to help, but I managed to slide off without embarrassing myself too much. When I hit the ground, my knees nearly buckled, but I caught myself and straightened before anyone noticed. If Ruugar did, he didn’t comment.

He gestured toward the cabins. “Each couple has one. There's a bed inside. Room enough to move around. And a solar-powered lantern for light.”

Joel took his and Mary's bags as Ruugar removed them from the cart. He strode over to one of the cabins and tugged open the door to peek inside, whistling softly. “Well, now this is how I like to camp. Glamping, for sure. Would you look at that bed, Mary? Orc-sized! I read about them. They’re elevated higher than ours because orcs have longer legs, plus they’re longer and wider overall.”

She joined him at the door. “We’re going to lose each other in that bed, Joel.”

He patted her backside. “No worries about that, love. I’ll find you no matter where you roam.”

She chuckled. “You. Remember when you thought sleeping in a hammock under the stars was romantic?”

Joel sighed. “I was younger back then than I am now.”

Carol pulled Pete toward their own cabin, curiosity lighting her eyes.

Ruugar strode toward their sorhoxes, and I hurried to him, determined to prove I could handle whatever was needed next.

“I have to remove the saddles and harnesses now,” he said.

“I’ll help.”

“No, you can…sit.”

I huffed. “I’m here to do my share. Tell me how.”

“It’s not easy work.”

“Ruugar,” I growled. “Show me.”

“But…” He rubbed his face with one hand. “Alright. But don’t work too hard. You’re tired.”

“So are you, but you’re going to do it. I can too.”

He stared at me for a long while, pretty much grinding his tusks, before he grumbled and turned to the mount again, unstrapping the creature’s saddle slowly, showing me how he did it. “We'll let them graze freely after we’ve finished. They know to stay nearby.”

I nodded and set to work loosening the clasps on one of the other sorhox’s gear, doing my best to mimic Ruugar's deft motions. As I struggled, my hat tipped too far forward, blocking my vision. I huffed. The thick saddle strap refused to budge, despite how determined I was to make it loosen. Grumbling, I tugged harder, my fingers slipping on the heavy leather.

Before I could yank again, Ruugar’s hand ghosted along the brim of my hat, tilting it back enough for me to see clearly.

I froze.

His fingers lingered on my cheek before he pulled away as if he hadn’t sent my heart slamming against my ribs and stolen the air from my lungs.

He loosened the strap and left me to tug the saddle off the beast.

“There,” he said, as gruff as ever, already returning to his own task. “Let me know if you can’t lift it.”

The day I couldn’t lift a simple leather saddle was the day?—

When I tugged it off, it smacked into my chest and nearly knocked me flat on my backside. I grinned and held it close, snickering at myself.

“Good job,” Ruugar called out, and he wasn’t even laughing.

It was nothing but simple praise, something any mentor or friend might say to an apprentice. But the warmth of his fingers still burned my skin, even though they hadn’t touched me for long or with any true intention on his part.

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