Page 5 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc
“I’ll think about it,” I say, which is probably the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
Evelyn smirks like she knows it but doesn’t press the issue. “Don’t be a stranger, Gerralt.”
I nod once, then turn and push the door open again. The bell chimes behind me, cheerful and relentless, as if mocking the quiet stillness I carry with me back into the chilly morning air.
The plaza is beginning to wake up now. The scent of fresh bread wafts from the bakery down the street, mingling with the faint brine of the ocean. Seagulls call out overhead, their cries sharp and lonely.I shove my hands into my jacket pockets, my fingers brushing against the envelope, and start toward my truck.
Time for me to go back home.
Chapter Three
Cassidy
Thebiteoffrostnips at my nose as I step out into the crisp morning air, my breath puffing in little clouds in front of me. The streets of Saltford Bay are still waking up, the cobblestones slick with dew and glinting in the pale sunlight. Seagulls cry overhead, swooping low over the rooftops, and the faint hum of chatter drifts from The Wandering Gnome diner just down the street.
I wrap my fingers tighter around my to-go cup of cardamom honey latte, the warmth seeping through the knit of my gloves. It’s the third one I’ve had this week and I know I can’t really affordit, but I can’t help myself. That gnome lady is a genius for thinking of mixing honey and spicy cardamom. She deserves a medal.
And I need the sale of that house to go through. It’s the last tie remaining from my old life and the only money I’m seeking from the divorce. I don’t need anything else from him, just my half of the house we bought together. The house where he betrayed me and shattered my heart in a million pieces.
Why won’t Jason sign the damned papers?We’ve agreed on this for months and we’re so close to finally being done with each other, I can almost taste freedom.
The to-do list keeps running through my head like a broken record. I've done some work in the five days since moving into the Saltwater Lodge, but it's been mainly reduced to cleaning, although I did hire a small crew to tear off the old carpets and haul away the molding mattresses and sofas. It felt oddly satisfying, walking in the place once the leftovers from the past were gone. Still, the sheer amount of work needed to make the inn ready for the next tourist season is enough to make my brain feel fuzzy.
Plumbing. Flooring. Windows.
And the kitchen. Oh God, the kitchen. The stove is older than I am and I still don't have a refrigerator. At least I scrubbed the dust, crusts, and mouse droppings from the cupboards with enough bleach to annihilate all life forms on Earth. But I still need to buy groceries and fill those shelves.
This is what I'll do next.I take a sip of my latte and sigh, the flavors dancing on my tongue.I need a functioning kitchen. I can’t keep living off takeout and Pop-tarts. But if that sale doesn’t go through, I won’t have enough to even start the renovations.
The thought is like a bucket of cold seawater dumped over my head. I stop walking for a moment, letting the reality of it settle in. I'll have to keep a serious hold on my expenses until the money is free and clear in my account.
But first things first, I have to find good, reliable help.
My gaze drifts up, catching on a lavender-painted storefront a few steps ahead. Tiny fairy lights twinkle around the arched windows, and ivy vines climb the sides like they’ve been growing there for centuries.
Primrose Pristine Home Decor reads the hand-painted sign above the door, the letters curling elegantly like the shop is inviting me in for tea.
“Well, if that isn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” I whisper to myself. My feet are already moving toward it before my brain can catch up.
Inside, a little bell above the door chimes softly as I step across the threshold. The air shifts instantly, warmer, cozier. I’m hit with the soothing scent of lavender and cedarwood, like stepping into the world’s most welcoming hug.
The shop is a maze of beautifully curated rooms, each one more enchanting than the last. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, catching on crystal chandeliers and making everything glitter softly. Shelves and tables overflow with treasures—plush velvet cushions, hand-carved wooden trinkets, and mirrors that seem to glow faintly, as if they’re reflecting more than just the room around them.
I trail my fingers over a gleaming console table, its wood polished to perfection. Intricate carvings swirl along the edges, depicting climbing vines and flowers, so detailed they almost seem alive.
“Whoever made this,” I whisper, crouching to get a closer look, “is a genius.”
“Oh, I’ll be sure to pass along the compliment.”
The voice startles me so badly I nearly knock my latte over. I whip around to find a petite woman standing a few feet away. Well, petite is an understatement. The woman can't be more than four feet tall and boasts translucent lavender-and-silver wings that shimmer faintly in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
A pixie, I reflect before blinking away and looking down at my coffee cup. No one likes to be stared at and I don't want to seem rude, but I've never met a pixie before. Sure, there are Others in Portland, but they are still a rarity, even four decades after the Rift opened and they joined our world. Most Others prefer to live closer to nature and away from the concrete jungle of the big city.
Her delicate, angular features pull into an inviting smile as brilliant violet eyes set on me with polite interest. Her silvery hair is pinned up in a sleek chignon, accentuating her delicate features, and exposing two very long, fluted ears that end in sharp points.
"Welcome to Primrose Pristine Home Decor," she says warmly.
I blink, still trying to get over the fact that I’ve just met an actual pixie. It’s definitively something I’ll need to tell Silvia about.
