Page 34 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc
“Thanks,” he mutters. Then he looks away, hunching his shoulders inward, shrinking in on himself. He begins pushing his cart away through the parking lot.
He has no idea who I am.
And maybe that’s worse than if he did.
Behind me, Emory calls my name, his deep voice cutting through the crisp morning air. I turn and see him waving from where the walnut slab is being loaded onto my truck.
I walk back to Emory waiting by my truck door. His eyes are knowing when they go from me to the homeless man pushing his cart. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he saw what I did. Saw what I didn’t do, too.
“His wife left and took the kids after what happened with your folks,” Emory said with a soft, quiet tone. “He lives in a trailer parked behind the Piggy Wiggly these days. Comes here now and again to get wood to burn.”
I grunt, unable to speak and yet grateful that Emory told me what I needed to hear.
“Have a safe drive back home, Gerralt Banesman.” Emory nods to me. “And don’t be a stranger, you hear?”
I hesitate, then I nod back at him.
My eyes flick to Joren.
He doesn’t look at me again. He still struggles with his cart, heavy with the few possessions of a man who has nothing. Who is nothing. This is all that's left of the specter that haunted me all these years.
A hollow man, surviving in the ruins of his own making.
I draw in a slow breath. My hands unclench.
Then I turn away.
I don’t speak. I don’t demand explanations or apologies. Because Joren Veckett isn’t the monster I spent half my life chasing.
He’s just a shell of a man who lost who he is.
And I’m still standing.
Chapter Fourteen
Cassidy
Thethickwallpaperpeelsaway in long strips under the thin metal scraper as I work at a particularly stubborn section along the wide staircase leading up to the second floor. It's probably been there since the Reagan administration, but I'm determined to win this battle. Just like I'm determined to win every other battle that stands between me and making this lodge a success.
Even if my arms feel like overcooked spaghetti and my fingers are stiff from holding the handle of the scraper. I’ve beenworking on the wallpaper removal all day and as the sun starts to lower over the ocean, I’m more than ready for a break.
Just a half hour more, I promise myself.Then I’ll open that bottle of wine and sit on the porch until my arms fall off.
My phone skitters across the floor like a deranged cricket, buzzing so hard it nearly vibrates itself right on the edge of the staircase. I lunge for it, my hands almost dropping the thing twice before I catch it.
Silvia's name flashes on the screen and my heart does a happy little jump.
"Cassie, babe!" Silvia's voice bursts through the speaker before I can even say hello. "Update me. Now. Have you lost your mind yet? Gone feral in the woods? Started talking to squirrels?"
I snort, wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear as I sit down on the stairs for a well-deserved break. Trust Silvia to jump right in without any pleasantries.
"The squirrels are actually great conversationalists," I quip back. "Very philosophical. Also, hello to you, too."
"Yeah, yeah, pleasantries are for people who haven't been ghosting their best friend." She doesn't sound mad, just amused. "Now tell me everything. And by everything, I mean what's happening with your sexy green contractor. Has he ravished you yet?"
My chest tightens and heat floods my face as memories of our kiss flash through my mind. The way Gerralt's massive hands felt on my body, how his tusks pressed against my lips, the rumble in his chest when I…
Jeez. I’m going to need a cold shower.
