Page 44 of The Orc That Got Away

“Hmm, we went to the bluest lake. Shared a bottle of wine. Watched the clouds go by.”

“What a strangely coherent dream,” I say with a smile.

“Oh yeah? What kind of dreams do you have?”

I sigh deeply, trying to remember the specific ridiculousness I dreamt last night. “I was back at boarding school, and somehow couldn’t remember where any of my classes were. Oh, and it was finals week and I hadn’t been to any of my classes all year.”

Ragnar blinks and frowns up at me. “That sounds…stressful.”

“Yes, it is!” I laugh.

“How is that even possible? They would suspend you if—” I cut Ragnar off with another slow, deep kiss. I pull away and bat my eyelashes at him.

“Honey, dreams don’t make sense. That’s why they’re dreams.” I sit up fully, ready to get out of bed and start our day, but Ragnar seems to have other plans. The orc wraps his arms around my torso and pulls me back on top of him.

“I wasn’t done with you yet,” he whispers gruffly. My cheeks go hot and my stomach twists into knots. God, he undoes me so easily. We lay there together, longer than I’d planned, and just share slow, sweet kisses. His hands graze over my naked back while I let myself explore his chest. I could honestly stay like this here forever, except…

My stomach growls, loudly, and completely kills the moment.

Ragnar pulls back and laughs, slapping a hand over his mouth. I cover my face in embarrassment.

“Omelet again?” he asks.

“Actually, your dream gave me another idea,” I say, filling in the blanks as I go. “What if we went down to that little pond in the park and had ourselves a brunch picnic?”

“Brunch picnic? Huh. I guess that could work?” Ragnar’s face twists in confusion as he tries to puzzle that one out.

“Okay listen, we bring coffee and pastries, and ingredients for mimosas. Maybe some mini quiches too if the bakery has them today.”

“Oh, I do love mini quiches,” Ragnar says, and I know I have him hooked.

“Then it’s settled! Get up, now!” I cry in mock exasperation. “Brunch is on a time limit, and we’re running out the clock.”

Ragnar shakes his head and smiles at me, but he gets up and dresses nonetheless. I try not to take too long getting my hair and clothes ready, as my stomach continues to complain. I grab my camera on our way out, hoping to get some nice shots of the park while we’re at it.

We walk together to the cafe for coffee and pastries, then the bakery a block down. Thankfully they do indeed have mini quiches. When we mention our picnic plans, the owner throws in some extra goodies too.

“Another victim to your charms,” Ragnar whispers.

I blush again. “She’s getting a very large tip.”

We get to the park and find a spot right next to the pond. Pairs of ducks float lazily around the still water, quacking now and then to announce their presence to one another. We put down a cheap paper tablecloth we bought at the store and settle in with our magnificent spread.

The quiches are warm, the pastries sweet, and the mimosas ice cold. Ragnar helps himself to the bright green grapes as I get my camera ready. I attach the right lens for the job and get to work photographing the ducks first. The sunlight reflects off of their feathers perfectly, making these common little birds look truly majestic.

One of the males begins flapping his wings, making small ripples in the pond’s surface. His female squawks at him, as if reprimanding him for making a scene. The sight makes me laugh hard enough that I have to pause my picture taking.

“Having fun?” Ragnar asks between bites of a chocolate croissant.

“The most,” I reply, laying on my stomach to get a better view of the trees on the other side of the pond. “What about you?”

Ragnar chuckles. “Enjoying the view.”

I turn my head to look at him, and snort when I realize he’s talking about my ass. “Okay goofball, enjoy.” I shake my head and try to return to the task at hand, but quickly I feel a weight press against my back and side. Ragnar’s lips trail up my neck and settle on my ear lobe.

“I will,” he breathes. The wine has made his cheeks hot. It’s making it difficult to concentrate.

“Ragnar, it’s broad daylight,” I whisper, only slightly protesting the attention. His hand rubs my back in small, comforting circles.

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