Page 85 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy
“Not any longer. We’re expanding it to include your brothers.”
There weren’t many lonely orcs in Lonesome Creek any longer. Six of us came to the surface from the orc kingdom and only two hadn’t found their fated mates. At the rate we were going, they’d have to shut down the app if they hoped to match us. Perhaps I should send word to my cousins, see if any were eager to work at Lonesome Creek, where they might have the chance to meet their fated one.
Lil took a seat on one of the tall stools on the opposite side of the counter. I hurried out front to pour her a cup of tea the way she liked it, with two sugars and a splash of almond milk, and brought it to her. In no time, I’d added some freshly baked pastries on a plate.
“You’re a dear,” she said, tapping her spoon against the rim of her cup. “If I were fifty years younger, Sel, I’d snatch you up for myself.”
“Too late,” I said, reaching for Holly’s hand.
“Hmmph. Rub it in, why don’t you.” She gave a dramatic sigh and sipped her tea. “At least you’ve got good taste, sweetheart. Holly’s a keeper.”
“I know,” I said.
Holly’s cheeks pinked again, but she smiled and wiped flour or cinnamon off my jaw.
While Grannie ate and drank her tea, Holly and I got back to work.
Grannie watched Holly with the sharp-eyed fondness only someone old and wise could get away with.
“You’re glowing,” Lil said softly when I passed nearby.
I came to a stop. “It’s the oven heat.”
She snorted. “It’s love, and it suits you. Don’t screw it up.”
“I don’t plan to.”
Lil gave a crooked smile and stood. “Then I’m off to go knit something ugly and useful. Probably for a cat.”
We walked with her out front, where I swept open the door for her to step outside. The happy chatter of tourists walking past on the boardwalk echoed around us. She waved her cane our way, nearly impaling my right eye, and left, her cane clicking on the wooden sidewalk in a jaunty way.
Sharing rueful smiles, Holly and I returned to the kitchen. My chest ached in the best way. I never thought I'd find someone like her or have moments like this. A morning with sunshine streaming in through back windows and a woman I adored humming as she worked beside me. A mate who smiled when I touched her and a youngling who hugged me like I was family.
Holly took more bakery goods out to the front.
I slid the last tray of bustabill root pastries into the oven, washed the bowl and wandered out front, drawn to her like always. She was stacking honey-twist biscuits into a bakery box while a tourist waited on the other side of the counter, thumbing through her phone.
“Three honey-twists, two cinnamon buns, and a zephyl hand pastie,” Holly said, securing the top of the box. “Can I get you anything else?”
The woman snorted. “If this isn’t enough, I’ll come back. Everything looks amazing.”
“Thank you.” Holly rang her up and the woman left.
More tourists trickled in, two women and a youngling female wearing bonnets and floor-length dresses they must’ve bought at my aunt’s general store. When one of the women started asking Holly about orc baking traditions, Holly answered warmly. She was enjoying herself, and that meant everything to me.
As the three left, I kissed the top of Holly’s head. She leaned back into me, and I couldn’t be happier.
We were still smiling when the bell over the door jingled again. A man walked in with a woman, though they wore regular human clothing. Maybe new arrivals in town. The woman leaned close to the display case, exclaiming about multiple items while Holly politely waited for her to decide.
The man watched Holly. There was nothing odd about that, but it still made hackles lift along my spine.
I stiffened behind her, resting my hand lightly on her back, doing my best to keep a pleasant expression on my face.
Holly grabbed a box from the back counter and started filling it with the woman’s requests, but she kept darting looks at the man. She’d noticed his intense stare too.
The woman finished her selection, and while Holly rang her up, the woman complimented the décor, asking about the pottery on the shelves.
“My brother, Hail’s work,” I said. We’d offered to display them yesterday, and he’d brought some into the bakery, carefully placing them on the shelf. “You can find more in the general store.”
