Page 42 of Fake Dating an Orc Cowboy

Laughter tumbled around us from our friends. It wasn’t cruel. They looked at me as if I fit in with them already. But they tittered like Jacob and I were putting on a show for their amusement. One of the guys—Vincent, I remembered—pointed at Jacob. “Man, you got this. Ostor’s big, but you rule, dude.”

His slap of encouragement on Jacob’s back made my jaw tighten. Jacob’s expression turned smug, as if he couldn't imagine losing. Heat rolled in my belly. How many times had he underestimated Rosey before dismissing her? I wouldn’t let him do the same with me, not even once.

Facing him fully, hands loose by my side, I tilted my chin. “Alright.” My words came out loud enough for the group to hear. “I’ll give it a chance. Show me how this works.”

Cheers and whistles rippled around us.

We took seats facing each other on the corner of the bar. Jacob rolled his shoulders, extending his hand to me as if this was some grand arena battle to the death. His hand was small compared to mine, something I struggled not to mention as I gripped it and tried not to crush the bones outright.

“And here we have it, folks,” one of Macy’s bridesmaids called out, bobbing over to stand at the corner of the bar, between us. “The biggest arm-wrestling match of the century. In my left corner, we have Ostor, an orc.'

Someone chuckled.

“And on my right?” she said. “Jacob, a,” her laughter burst out, “a human who's about to get his ass kicked. Nothing personal, but my money's on the bigger guy.”

“Jeez,” Jacob said. “Thanks.”

“Frannie,” Macy said with a laugh. “Way to support my awesome fiancé.”

“You'remarrying him, not me.” Frannie leaned over and kissed Jacob's cheek. “Good luck,dude.”

Jacob locked his elbow firmly on the bar. “Ready when you are, Ostor.”

Rosey came over to stand partway behind me, her hand resting on my back as she leaned close. “You've got this, babe,” she purred by my ear.

Pride roared through me, her words giving me the strength of ten thousand orcs.

Frannie counted down. “Three, two, one . . . Go!”

Jacob’s elbow pressed hard against the polished surface as he pushed his palm against mine, his face contorting with strain.

I held my hand in the upright position, wondering when this was going to get started.

Beads of sweat gathered on Jacob's brow, and his jaw tightened as he put every bit of his energy into driving my arm backward to slam it on the counter.

It took a solid effort not to smile. His strength was admirable for a human, but it wasn’t even close to testing my limits.

He growled low under his breath, the tendons in his neck standing out sharply.

With barely a flick of my wrist, I pushed his hand down against the bar, impacting it with a decisive thud. The group erupted into cheers while Jacob sat frozen, his hand still locked in mine. With a hiss, he wrenched away from my grip, his face going red and splotchy. “Two out of three.”

Macy pressed her fingers to her temples. “Seriously, Jacob? Let it go.”

But he plowed on, his voice and color rising. “Or maybe something else then. Push-ups? A race around the pool. Hell, we could—”

I lifted my palm, silencing him. “Forget it.” I met his gaze. “You . . . nearly had a win there.” Not really. “Call it an even match if you want.”

“Two out of three,” Jacob muttered. “That's only fair.”

“I’m not here to play games with you. I’m here to have fun with Rosey.” Turning, I scooped her up. My hands curved gently under the warmth of her thighs as I settled her on top of the bar, easing her back until she laid on the cool surface. Her eyes widened, half-shocked but lit with humor and—most importantly—trust.

A few snorts echoed around us, but as I said, I was here for her only.

With a flick of my hand, the owner of this fine bar brought over a glass of tequila. I held it over her abdomen to the hoots of the crowd.

Her skin quivered as I poured a small stream of the liquid along her belly. It looped before pooling above her navel. By the fates, she shimmered like a goddess in the moonlight. The warmth of her, the scent of her. Everything about Rosey pulled me in completely.

Laughter bubbled up from her throat as she arched her spine against the tickling sensation. “Ostor, what are you doing?” Her voice rasped out softer than her laughter, almost breathless.

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