Page 13 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc
"Are you sure all of this is necessary? I mean, none of this is shown in the inspection report."
His mottled green face splits into what I assume is meant to be a reassuring grin, but it only serves to make me shift with discomfort in my seat. He hovers closer and passes his tongue over his chipped righttusk, so close to me now that his breath fans my face. I lean away from him, wishing he would just back off and give me time to think clearly.
"Do I look like a man who sugarcoats things?" He shakes his head and pushes the contract toward me, like the proximity of the paper will magically make me sign it. "Trust me on this. You'll thank me later when this place isn't crumbling under your feet."
The detailed estimate and referral list he gave me are designed to soothe my doubts, but something about all this sets my teeth on edge. Still, what choice do I have? The lodge needs work, and he's the only contractor who's shown any interest.
"Can I get back to you in a few days?" I ask, tapping my pen against the contract. "This is a big decision, and I'd like to review everything carefully. Maybe get a few other estimates."
"My schedule fills up quick this time of year. Lots of folks wanting work done before tourist season." Bogdan leans forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the papers. His yellow eyes fix on me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. "Between you and me, most contractors in town would take advantage of a sweet little lady like yourself. I'm giving you a fair deal here."
I open my mouth to tell him that I really cannot make this decision right now. Or that I don’t have the funds at all. I’m not sure what I’m about to tell him.
Because I don’t get to say anything.
The rumble of a truck engine drifts up the driveway, pulling my attention away from the stack of papers Bogdan keeps pushing toward me. I rise from my chair and move to the window. Through the long glass panes, I watch a black pickup roll to a stop beside my battered old Honda. The driver's door swings open and the orc who’s beenplaguing my nights unfolds his massive frame from the cab. The late afternoon sun catches on his dark hair as he strides toward the lodge, gravel crunching beneath his heavy work boots.
Great. Just what I need right now.
Before I can process what's happening, the front door swings open, and he steps inside. Gerralt Banesman fills the doorway with his presence. He wears a clean flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves, exposing his powerful forearms and nicely fitted jeans that show how muscular his thighs are. His amber eyes lock on Bogdan with laser focus.
I fight the urge to fan myself. Seriously, it should be illegal to look that good and that grumpy at the same time.
"Gerralt? What are you doing here?" My voice is high-pitched and I wince at how whiny I sound.
"Princess, I hope you didn't sign anything this vulture gave you to sign." Gerralt's low voice cuts through the tension like a knife.
"I don't recall this being any of your business, Banesman." Bogdan's words come out in a snarl and he crosses his arms over his bulging stomach.
Gerralt strides over to the table, his fingers brushing lightly over the papers. His eyes narrow as he scans the figures. I stand there, silent and still as a statue.
"Asbestos, huh? Funny, since I can personally attest that Mrs. Bennings had it remediated years ago. Town hall has the permits to prove it." His gaze flicks to me, then to another document. "And lead pipes? These are galvanized steel."
Bogdan's face darkens. "You think you're an expert on every building in Saltford Bay?"
“I think I know a con man when I see one.” Gerralt leans over the table, bracing his arms on the wood, his voice dropping to a growl that sends shivers down my spine. “And you? You've got snake oil written all over you. I bet you didn’t even tell Cassidy here that this building used to belong to your aunt?”
"Wait a minute." I turn to Bogdan, my voice sharper than before. "This building used to be in your family? Then you should know about the asbestos, shouldn’t you?"
"Listen,sweetheart," Bogdan emphasizes the word as his yellow eyes narrow, making me grit my teeth. "You're not qualified to interpret those kinds of reports and my aunt wasn’t exactly the kind of lady to upkeep a big place like that in her old age. Everything I told you is true. You can take my word for it."
He lifts his chin and shifts his weight, tugging at his stained overalls as I glare at him.
"And the foundation issues?" My fingers curl into fists. "Where exactly is this structural damage you mentioned?"
His jaw works beneath his skin, tusks gleaming as he forces a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Now, don't you worry your pretty little head about the technical details."
Heat rises to my cheeks as understanding dawns. I've been played for a fool. Again.
"Get out." The words burst from my mouth and I feel proud of how steady my voice is. "Now."
Bogdan's face twists into an ugly snarl, his chipped tusks catching the late afternoon light. He snatches up his papers with enough force to make the rickety table wobble, sending my untouched coffee mug dancing precariously close to the edge. The floorboards creak underhis heavy stomping, and the front door slams with enough force to rattle the newly cleaned windows. A moment later, his truck engine roars to life, gravel spraying as he peels out of the driveway.
I turn to Gerralt, crossing my arms over my chest to hide how badly my hands are shaking. The adrenaline from the confrontation still courses through my veins, making my heart race.
“I’m not some charity case for your savior complex,” I choke out, my voice squeaking like a mouse. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
I know full well how ungrateful that sounds, but it’s true.
