Page 6 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy
Holly shifted, brushing sunset hair back from her face. Her hand lingered near Max’s shoulder.
“It’s fine,” she said, too fast. A glance passed between them. Her expression remained tight. Protective.
His held relief, though I had no idea why.
Seeing their interaction did things to me. Not good things, though not bad either. I couldn't quite define them, actually.
Max looked up at me again, his brown eyes intense behind his glasses. Like he hadn’t been given the chance to admire much in his short life but now something in me had caught his attention. I didn’t know what to do with that kind of look, the kind that took me in as if I held out hope in my big hands.
“Alright.” I unlocked the door.
One glance inside, and I swore under my breath, though I wasn’t surprised. One orc-sized bed with a white cover and two pillows. No couch, just a chair at a desk by the window.
“There’s only one bed,” I said. “That won't do.” Though what would? Since we’d opened, we’d been booked solid.
“It'll be fine,” Holly said, brushing past me, though not touching. I’d swear she was doing all she could to avoid getting close.
I placed their bags on the floor by the wall. Light. Lighter than they should’ve been for people moving to a new town. Only jackets between them. Nothing for cold weather unless it was inside the bags. I suspected she hadn’t packed as someone planning to stay but as someone needing to vanish.
Not my business. There was no need to ask questions that could draw out answers that weren’t mine to know. Still, something about the way she stood in front of her son, the way she subtly kept herself between me and him, knotted deep insideme. She almost appeared to wear pain like a coat she hadn’t taken off yet.
Another odd thought on my part.
As far as the room was concerned, I wanted to tell her I'd make other arrangements, though I wasn't sure what I could offer. It was only due to a random cancellation that this room was open.
But I worried if I told her this wasn't right for her and her son, she'd run.
I had no idea why I thought she'd run.
“I'll, um, have some food sent up to your room if you'd like.” I backed into the hall.
“Thank you but don't go to any trouble. PB&J will be fine. Something easy and…cheap.”
I didn't know what PB and J was. “We mostly serve orc dishes here. Part of the draw is our combining orc food and creatures with the human Wild West.”
“Anything will do.” She didn't even look up, just kept her gaze fixed on the floor.
Max gave me a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.” Frowning, I shut the door. Then I went downstairs and instead of asking the cook to prepare something and send it to their room, I crafted their meals myself, a mix of whatever we had available in cold storage. I added extra since Max looking like a growing youngling and if he was anything like me when I was his age, he'd eat three times what I served his mother. I took the tray up the stairs and banged on the door with my elbow.
“Who's there?” The panic in Holly's voice made me want to draw a sword and start slashing. Stand in front of her and roar at the world. Do anything I could to protect her and her son.
The notion unsettled me in a not-so-good way, though I wasn't sure there was anything I could do about it other thanpress a smile on my face and call through the door. “It's Sel. I have food. Could you open up?”
“Oh, yes.” Her voice softened. “I'm sorry.” She undid the lock. The deadbolt. The chain that rattled. And cracked the door, poking only her nose through the narrow gap. Max stayed out of sight, as if she'd tucked him away somewhere and dared the world to try to find him. “You're alone?”
“Of course.” Who else would come here with me?
She opened the door further and thrust out her hands, taking the tray from me, not even looking at my offering. Her elbows never unlocked. She clenched them as if she didn’t trust the tray to remain in her grip for long.
I swallowed hard.
She studied my face. “I appreciate it.” Her foot tapped the door to close it while I remained still, my hands limp at my sides. “Thank you,” she called through the panel as it closed.
The locks clicked. The chain screeched as it was slid into place.
“I’ll, um, see you at the bakery tomorrow morning?” I said through the door.
