Page 65 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy
Inside the bakery, we worked side by side like always, but something between us had shifted in a way I liked more than I was ready to admit out loud.
The bakery kitchen was filled with the soothing scent of flour and spices, yeast, and sugar. It was still early morning, the sun was barely up, and a thin mist clung to the windows. I kneaded the dough we’d started yesterday on the floured counter while Sel shaped his orc-style bread knots with practiced ease. He’d rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, and his droolworthy, thick forearms were dusted in flour. His scent, earthy, warm, and faintly sweet, kept winding its way into my lungs and making it hard to focus on my task.
He glanced at me and smiled, a crooked little grin that flashed his tusks and made my stomach flip over.
“You're quiet this morning,” he said. “Is everything alright?”
I nodded, smoothing the dough beneath my hands. “Just thinking.”
“A dangerous pastime.”
“Not if you know what you're doing.”
He chuckled, that low rumble of a sound heating me from the inside out. “Well, if you're thinking about how good you looked yesterday on the back of Zist, I support that.”
I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks burned in the way he always managed to coax out of me. I couldn’t stop smiling, and I imagined I looked like I was going out of my mind.
I liked this version of us. Easy, teasing. It felt good. Safe. Natural. But it also felt new, as if we were standing on the edge of something deeper, something that could spell out future and love and a new beginning. The way he'd looked at me last night, sitting across the dinner table with Max laughing along with his jokes, had carved into me more than I wanted to admit. It made me want things only this male could give.
And that scared me.
Sel didn’t push. He remained patient, letting me set the pace, and that made me want him more than anything. I wasn’t ready to give him everything, but I was close.
“I like this,” I said softly.
He turned toward me, flour on his jaw, his brow lifted. “What’s that?”
“Us. Working like this. Being here together. It’s nice.”
His eyes softened. “Yeah. It is.”
We didn’t say anything more for a while, and we didn’t need to. The silence stretched between us in a good way. The oven hummed. Outside, the town was beginning to stir. The first tourists wouldn’t arrive for another hour or so, and we’d be ready like always.
I segmented and plopped the dough into greased pans to rise and washed my hands, drying them on a cloth, watching Sel ashe twisted the last of his knots and set them on a tray to rest. He moved with such confidence; he was built for this, for creating, for care. For home.
I started to make the glaze that would go on the knots once they’d baked. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
He looked up from where he’d started mixing ingredients for another orc cookie. “I might say something that completely repels you.”
Sel? Not a chance.
I gave him a playful grin. “Come on. Humor me.”
He wiped his hands and leaned on the counter beside me, close enough I could feel the heat sliding off him. He looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. “Alright. I once got kicked out of the royal orc kitchens for smuggling in a chumble.”
I blinked. “The big pink chickens.”
“They’re more the size of ostriches, per Gracie. But the chumble was hungry. It seemed like the kind thing to do.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
“Max’s age.”
“And nowhere near as wise. Obviously.”
I laughed. “Did the chumble enjoy royal food?”
