Page 24 of Fake Dating an Orc Cowboy

Rosey leaned into my belly. “You don’t need to drink it.”

“I want to.”

“You’re sure?” At my nod, she grinned. “This is going to be an interesting experience for you, Ostor. I hope you like it.”

Why wouldn't I if I shared it with her?

She handed me one of the tiny glasses, and I wrinkled my nose at the sharp, pungent odor wafting from the glass. Golden, it appeared almost oily. Repulsive, if I was being honest, though I didn't state that to my new friends.

Humans drank such a thing? Or did they use it as a skin emollient or to clean dirty objects? It reminded me of the fermented rock crushoons we used for certain orc celebrations, the scent of their cooked bodies strong, almost acrid as the chef piled them onto our plates. Fortunately, the odor didn't come through in the taste. Perhaps this liquid was the same, repulsive smelling but with a delightful flavor.

Macy raised her glass high into the air, and her “crew” went silent. “Here’s to the weekend! To Mexico! To my wedding the day after tomorrow! To my soon-to-be husband, Jacob! But especially to my bestie, my big sis, my favorite person in the whole world—”

Jacob coughed, his face darkening.

She leaned back into his side. “You're special too, babe. I named you first, didn’t I?” Her glass wavered, still held at eye level. “But this toast is for my maid of honor, my sis, Rosey. You'll get your reward later.”

Her friends grinned. Jacob curled around her to kiss her cheek, placated by the promise of a favor.

“To Rosey,” Macy said simply, her eyes shimmering as she gazed at her sister.

Cheers rang out from our friends and even Jacob, but all I could focus on now was my mate, whose eyes sparkled with happiness tinged with a touch of sadness that maybe only I could see.

“To Rosey.” The others upended their tiny glasses, draining them before smacking them back onto the counter. They followed that up with licking the white crystal that I'd alreadymisplaced. I hoped it wouldn't cause problems with the pool water. Licking was chased by each sucking on the green and white thing.

Rosey watched me. Waited, most likely, to see if I would join in on the dubious fun. When her glass lifted, her brow furrowed while she glanced from me to my drink from behind her long lashes.

I’d follow this woman anywhere, even into the bottom of this tiny glass.

I raised it, cupping it carefully between two fingers. No one else seemed concerned about how sharp the liquid’s smell was. To them, it appeared as nothing. It would be the same for me.

Rosey sent me a quick sideways grin. “Don’t think too hard about it. Just drain it and get it over with. Follow it up with the salt and the lime.”

“I have misplaced my salt.”

“Here.” She held out the clear glass tube full of the stuff and carefully poured some onto my finger webbing.

I clinked my glass against hers before holding my breath and tipping the drink back in one swift motion, aiming toshootit the way everyone else had.

The tequila cauterized my mouth and throat like dragon fire. It scorched my belly when it hit, and it was all I could do not to hurl it back up. While scattering white crystals into the pool may be allowed, I suspected vomiting tequila was not.

Coughing, my eyes dumping a river of tears into the pool, I gagged, barely holding the tequila down.

Rosey’s laugh burst, genuine and sweet, and she leaned into my chest, blinking up at me. “There you go, Ostor. Lick that salt and suck on that lime. This is almost like an initiation.”

I did want to fit in.

“Salt, salt,” the others chanted, followed by, “lime, lime”.

The salt made my mouth pucker, but I sucked on the lime, gasping at the sharp tang.

Somehow, the two made everything right, as if they blended together and neutralized the harsh drink.

Rosey's smile filled my world, and it exploded.

“You're doing good,” she whispered. “Thank you for giving this a chance.”

If she smiled at me like that every time, I’d shoot anything down my throat.

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