Page 37 of Fake Dating an Orc Cowboy

“Everything okay?” I asked him.

“Excellent.”

I wasn’t sure if I was glad to hear grim satisfaction in his voice or not. “He didn’t, like, grill you about us, did he?”

“I explained and he seemed quite pleased with me.”

“About what in particular?”

“You,” he said, looking down at me. “You.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear more. Maybe he’d pretended, like this was all pretend. I decided to shrug this off. Dad was just being Dad, and Ostor . . . well, Ostor was an easygoing guy. I was sure he’d handled Dad’s inquisition with ease.

As soon as we made it close to the swim-up bar, Macy's squeal lit up my ears. She left her stool and floundered over, her arms outstretched, the bounce of her curls sending sprays of water across her shoulders.

“There you are!” She wrapped herself around me in a wet hug that nearly knocked me off my feet. “Saw you and Mom and Dad. Things go okay?”

She must know why Dad dragged Ostor off for a “walk”.

“Fine. Just fine.”

Macy leaned back, studying my face. “Oh my god, Rosey! Look at you. You’re glowing! Seriously, I’ve never seen you look this happy before.” Her smiled turned into something more knowing. “Is it because ofhim?” Her eyes flitted toward Ostor, who stood behind me, his warm fingers lingering on the back of my waist.

“Maybe, but I’m not saying anything else.”

Macy squealed.

My cheeks heated but there was no denying I liked Ostor, not to my sister who could see all the way to my soul. I tossed out a casual laugh but didn’t confirm or deny. The words got caught somewhere between my brain and my heart because she was right.

Everything inside me glowed.

I glanced up at Ostor, and I felt like I was in the sea with the tide pulling and tugging me in all directions at once. My heart was full and light and heavy all at the same time.

I was falling for this orc.

Not just attracted to him.

Falling.Hard.

And the scariest part? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop it from happening.

His dark eyes locked on mine, and the air between us did that strange thing again, snapping taut like a rubber band. Macy's grin spread, mischievous for sure, and she leaned in close. “If this is how I look at Jacob, you’re in trouble.”

Trouble could be a thrill or a warning.

When the weekend came to a close, would we say goodbye under the dull airport lights? I worried about building a dream that would never have time to bloom into anything beautiful.

Macy took my hand and started dragging me toward the bar. “Come on! Bring your cowboy along with you. It's time to party.”

I rolled my eyes but grinned. Macy was always like this. Full of energy, determined to tilt full speed toward everything in life. She had no chill. Not that she needed it, but tomorrow's wedding had amped her energy to something superhuman.

Maybe Mom’s steady influence would relax her.

Or not.

The rest of the wedding party greeted us when we reached the bar, even Jacob, who leaned against the counter, his gaze squarely on Ostor. His gaze flicked from Ostor's hat to the wide expanse of his muscular chest, down to the top of his swim trunks, and back up again to study his face.

Such a leveled, assessing look. Not one of curiosity, but something almost . . . competitive. Was he sizing up Ostor? He had no reason to do anything like that. Unless Macy, in her usual, gushing way, had been chatting about how amazing Ostor was.

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