Page 62 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

I stopped and she joined me, standing close enough that when she shifted, when she breathed, every bit of me felt her presence.

Before the need building inside me could take hold, I pointed toward a spot beneath the tree where the sunlight barely reached. “There,” I whispered. “Watch.” Raising my spear, I waited. Stillness settled over me as I focused, every muscle in my body coiled tight. The fish below drifted lazily, unaware a hunter was stalking them. When the moment was right, I struck fast. My spear pierced the water and sank into the fish.

Lifting my catch, I turned, aiming to meet Beth’s eyes, longing to see anything that would tell me she was impressed.

She stared at the fish with an unreadable expression before her gaze flicked up, meeting mine. “Wow. Ruugar, that’s so impressive. I’ve heard of people spearing fish but everyone I know who fishes now uses a hook and a line or a net. Your move was seamless. Incredible.”

My chest puffed at her praise. My mate was so sweet and kind. I didn’t quite know how to respond other than grumble thank you.

Something shifted in the air between us, and it felt good.

Ignoring the way my chest ached, I pulled the fish free and threw it up onto the bank. “Your turn.”

Beth nodded. Gripping her spear tighter, she squared her shoulders. She was determined. I admired that about her.

Admired everything about her, actually. But I couldn’t let that matter right now.

I stepped closer, doing my best to bury the longing threatening to consume me whole.

She stared down at the water, her brows furrowed. This was the same look she had when she was setting her mind to something, when she'd decided failure wasn’t an option. It was a look I’d come to admire. She'd had that look on her face when she fled a wedding she didn't want. When she was afraid of touching Barg but did it anyway. When she agreed to come on this trail ride as a helper.

My woman was amazing. Nothing was going to hold her back.

Beth raised the spear, her eyes locked on the slow-swimming fish. With a swift lunge, she drove the spear downward, making a hollow splash. The fish darted away unscathed.

Beth groaned. “It should've worked. I did it the same way as you.”

I grunted, stepping a little closer. “Good effort. But you hesitated.”

She scowled down at the rippling water. “I didn’t.”

“You did.” I gestured toward the moving current, where shadows of fish flitted near the rocks. “Because you paused, your arm twitched before you struck. The fish noticed, but not only that, it threw your aim off enough that you missed. It happens all the time. No worries.”

She blinked up at me. “I bet you stabbed a fish the very first time you tried.”

“Not even the hundredth time I tried.”

Her head cocked. “Really?”

“Really.”

Her posture loosened and her smile bloomed again, delivering a swift sorhox kick in the chest to me.

“Then I have ninety-eight more tries before I need to get worried.”

“Ninety-nine.”

She shot me a sly look. “Ninety-eight. I want to hit a fish one try before you.”

My laugh burst out.

The sound surprised me. Like the wind rushing from the mountains, it was impossible to pull back. Had I laughed like this before? Not just sounds, but expressinga feeling that came from the center of me? If I had, I couldn't remember when.

Her breath caught and she stared up at me with… It couldn’t be longing, could it? Just thinking it could be was enough for my laughter to fade and for heat to glide up into my ears, making them twitch.

“Yes, well.” She dragged her gaze back to the water and a sigh gusted out of her. She set her stance, adjusted her grip, and tried again.

The second attempt sent her spear gliding harmlessly past a fish’s tail. The third sent water splashing up around us. The fourth knocked a stone loose from the riverbed but impaled nothing.

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