Page 24 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc
She stands, moving to poke at the fire, purposely turning her back on me. Sparks rise like fireflies before she closes the door to the woodstove.
“At first, you can't stop thinking about her.” Bernice’s voice is low, but her words bounce in my skull like the scream of a bullhorn. “Thenyou find excuses to provide for her and protect her. The next thing you know, you won’t be able to sleep unless she lies next to you. Naked."
I halt mid-step, my boots sinking into the plush rug. "Gran, don't."
"Am I wrong?"
My throat tightens. Without another word, I walk away. I'm halfway to the door when Bernice calls out.
"Wait!"
I stand there, frozen, my hand on the door handle. I turn around to see her disappear into her pantry, emerging with a can of sardines and a knowing smile.
"Tell her to leave these in a wooden box with one of her old blankets or t-shirt. Something that smells like her. Tell her to put it near where the cat usually appears. That should do the trick." Bernice presses the can into my hand, her fingers surprisingly warm. "Trust me on this, Gerralt. Sometimes the scared ones just need a gentle approach… and that goes for more than just cats."
"Thanks for dinner, Gran," I mumble, pocketing the sardines.
As I head out the door and to my truck, Bernice's voice follows me into the night.
"You can't fight it, Gerralt. You might try to tell yourself this is about her needing help, but deep down, you already know if she’s your mate or not. The sooner you stop fighting it, the better it will be for both of you."
My truck waits at the end of the driveway, gleaming under the full moon, and I slide into the driver’s seat, then slam the door shut. My hands grip the steering wheel until my knuckles pale. The sleepy town stretches out before me, but all I can see is the outline of the SaltwaterLodge, perched on its little hill above the shore. All my eyes can focus on is the golden shine of a single window where I know she is.
I shut my eyes to clear my head, but all I see is Cassidy's bright smile, the way she clutches her coffee mug with both hands, the vulnerability she tries to hide behind bright chatter.
It means nothing, I tell myself. But the truth claws its way into my chest, tightening around my ribs until I can barely breathe. Because I’m a liar and Bernice is right.
Cassidy is my mate.
The thought hits me like a physical blow, both terrifying and exhilarating. My truck rumbles down the dirt road, Bernice's house fading in the rearview mirror. For the first time in years, uncertainty gnaws at my gut, and I have no idea what to do about it.
Chapter Eleven
Cassidy
Ican'tbelieveit'sfinally done.
The late afternoon sun pours through the freshly cleaned windows, catching on the polished oak cabinets and making the sage-green walls glow. I stand in the middle of my new kitchen, breathing in the lingering scent of sawdust and fresh paint. The room sparkles with possibility, and for the first time since I moved in, I feel like I’m home.
I can't help but twirl, arms outstretched, feeling like Julie Andrews on that mountain inSound of Music, except my hills are made of freshly painted walls and gleaming oak cabinets.Sure, my kitchen might not make it intoBetter Homes and Gardens, but right now, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Still alive and kicking, huh?" I mutter under my breath, allowing myself a small victorious fist pump. "Take that, Jason."
I stretch, feeling the pleasant burn in my muscles from all the work I did. I'm not used to physical work and it shows, but it's also the most satisfying thing I've ever done. The golden rays of sunlight streaming through the freshly cleaned windows catch my eye, and that's when I spot her. Marigold is lounging in a patch of warmth by the back door, her orange and white fur glowing like embers. The stray cat has been hanging around closer and closer, though she still refuses to let me touch her. Right now, she's sprawled on her side, one paw tucked under her chest, looking perfectly at home on my back porch.
She just blinks lazily at me through the glass, like she's finally deciding this might be a safe place after all.
"What do you think, girl?" I ask as I crawl to the sliding patio door. "Not bad, huh? Who knew this kitchen could look like this?"
The cat yawns, clearly unimpressed by my enthusiasm. Still, the fact that she's here at all feels like progress.
I open the glass door slowly, and to my surprise, Marigold sits up and meows at me instead of bolting. I squat down on the wooden planks and keep still. Her suspicious green eyes study me as she takes a tentative step forward.
"Come on, sweetie," I coax, holding out my hand. "I won't hurt you."
She inches closer, her whiskers twitching as she sniffs my fingers. For a moment, hope blooms in my chest, but then she retreats one step and turns away, then disappears back into the forest like a ghost.
"You're tough, I get it. You think you don't need anyone, but you can't just stay outside like that," I call after her, but without any real hope. "You're gonna end up as owl food one of these days."
