Page 38 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

“No! I mean, no. You didn’t. Not at all. I appreciate that you want to defend me.”

“Always.” He lifted his eyes, though he was careful not to meet mine. “I'll show you how to cook, though I'm not as good as Tark. But it’ll be filling and tasty and exactly what we need on a trail ride.”

“I'll learn fast.” I shot him a shy smile. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Outside the cooking gazebo, he led me past the communal bathing area nestled between a few trees for privacy. The inside held one enclosed stall, plus a sink and a stand-up shower. It was clean and simple, and the scent of pine freshener drifted through the air.

“Solar generates our power, and we have batteries, but that means hot water can be limited at times.” His dark gaze remained on my chin so long, I worried I had a pimple. Or had grown a wart while we rode. “One shower per day.” The way he said it, like a decree set in stone, made the corners of my lips twitch.

“I’ll manage,” I said.

From behind us, Mary called out in a teasing voice. “You get used to a little dirt. Some of our old camping trips barely had running water, let alone hot showers. We used to toss a tent and a cooler in the back of our car and find a sweet spot to set everything up. We’d sleep under the stars and listen to the wildlife moving around in the woods. Nothing beat it.”

“I can’t imagine.” I grinned before following Ruugar. The path weaving through the deep grass to the supply shed took us a short distance away from the maincampsite. The trees along the edge of the woods were thicker here, their branches stretching high overhead, creating shadows in the late-afternoon light. Behind me, water rushed over rocks, blending with the occasional rustle of leaves as wind swept through the underbrush.

It was peaceful. Idyllic, almost. But a strange tightness curled in my gut the moment we stepped beyond the main part of the clearing. I wasn’t used to wide open spaces, let alone wilderness. Every instinct I had whispered that I was too exposed, too easy to spot.

Ruugar, of course, strode ahead, his broad shoulders squared, unconcerned. Nothing about him hinted at unease. He was steady, grounded in a way that made me feel foolish for my nerves.

I shook myself and focused on following.

We reached the shed, and Ruugar unlocked it and pulled the door open, stepping inside to grab supplies. I lingered near the entrance, resting a hand on the frame as I glanced toward the forest behind.

Rustling there made my spine jerk. I sucked in a breath. Something was moving out there, something big enough to make branches sway and large enough to snap a twig. My heart decided this was a good time to beat itself against my ribs.

I barely had time to react before Ruugar thrust himself in front of me. Not beside me. Not stepping from the shed casually to peer in this direction.

In. Front. Of. Me.

One solid step, and his chest was between me and whatever might be inside those trees, his stance set, hishand already at his belt where a long knife was secured in a sheath.

For a breath, I could do nothing except cling to the comfort of his presence. He was large, unmovable, shielding. His scent surrounded me, a mix of leather, dried grass, and something vaguely earthy.

I felt safe. Not just safe.Protected.

He didn’t move. Tension rolled off him in waves, his entire body coiled like he was ready to intercept anything that came too close.

The rustling grew louder, came nearer?—

He pulled the knife.

I struggled not to gasp.

With an indignant squawk, a fat, round chumble baby scuttled out from under a bush.

I exhaled in one big whoosh, pressing a hand to my chest as the baby waddled through the tall grass before scurrying back into the woods, completely oblivious to us.

Ruugar let out a slow breath, and his shoulders loosened. “We'll keep an eye out for the mother. They can be protective.”

“It was a chumble,” I said. “So cute. So sweet.”

“Their mother would not be so cute. Or so sweet.” He glanced down my frame as if he needed to confirm I was unharmed. “Could’ve been almost anything.” His head swiveled, and he frowned at the woods, the hilt of his blade still snug in his hand.

He'd reacted instantly, because to him, it didn’t matter what the threat was. If there was even a chance Iwas in danger, he was willing to position himself between me and whatever might be coming.

I swallowed as a slow, painful warmth unfurled in my chest.

He didn’t even realize what he was doing to me. Didn’t realize how desperately I wanted to believe I mattered to him beyond this week, beyond this trip. But I couldn’t let myself fall. I knew better.

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