Page 6 of Bidding on the Orc Outcast

“Yes.” She matched his stance, all five-foot-nothing of her radiating pure stubbornness. “The auction is this weekend. Plenty of time to get you a proper shirt.”

He glared at her. “There’s nothing wrong with my clothes.”

“Other than the fact that they’re almost as old as you are?” She jabbed a surprisingly painful finger at his chest. “You’re going. End of discussion.”

Fuck.Once Flora set her mind to something, she was worse than a dog with a bone. But the thought of standing on that stage, of seeing the same judgment and fear he’d faced years ago…

“The town remembers what happened,” he said roughly.

“The town needs to get over itself. And you need to stop letting one incident define your whole life.” Her black eyes suddenly sparkled with mischief. “Besides, there are plenty of new faces in town. People who don’t know about-”

“Don’t.”

“Fine.” Flora patted his arm. “But you’re going. Even if I have to march down here with my entire knitting circle and drag you there myself.”

Since the average age of her knitting circle was well above seventy, the mental image of Flora and her gaggle of friends - human and Other alike - trying to budge his seven-foot body almost made him smile. Almost.

“Half those ladies would break a hip.”

“Then save us all the trouble and show up on your own.” Flora headed down the porch steps with the determined stride that had terrorized reluctant bachelors for decades. “This weekend, Varek. Wear something nice.”

He watched her go, his jaw clenching until his tusks ached again. His godmother was more stubborn than a mule - and twice as crafty. If she’d decided that it was time for him to leave the woods, she’d keep coming back, wearing him down with her particular blend of guilt and manipulation until he gave in.

His shoulders slumped. Maybe it was better to get it over with. One night of discomfort and then blessed peace.

“Flora,” he called after her.

She turned, yellow feathers fluttering the breeze. “Yes, dear?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her. “If I agree to participate in this ridiculous auction, you’ll stop. No more schemes to drag me into town. No surprise visits about community events. No matchmaking.”

Her delighted smile instantly made him regret speaking. “Of course not, dear. One auction and I’ll never bother you about town participation again.”

The promise came a little too easily, but he was still going to take advantage of it. “Fine.”

“Excellent. Now about your clothes-”

“No,” he growled. “I agreed to show up. That’s it.”

“But-”

“Those are my terms.”

She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose that’s all right. Some women go for that rugged look after all. And who knows? You might end up going on a wonderful date and finally getting laid.”

He choked and she grinned at him before disappearing down the forest path. He stared after her in dismay, then slumped back against the porch railing. What had he just agreed to? The thought of standing on display while women bid on him made his skin crawl. Or more likely, didn’t bid on him.

But if it put an end to Flora’s schemes… He’d endure worse for that kind of peace.

CHAPTER THREE

Posy tugged nervously at the neckline of her vintage dress as she paid her entrance fee and picked up one of the numbered paddles from the table just inside the Town Hall. How in the world had she let Flora talk her into this?

A group of nearby females - a human, a dryad, and two trolls - were discussing potential “merchandise” in hushed whispers. She caught the names of a local business owner, a visiting professor from the nearby college, and someone who apparently worked at the lumber mill outside of town. They didn’t sound like exciting dates, but she wasn’t sure what else she’d been expecting from a small-town bachelor auction.

The thought of bidding on any of them made her stomach churn, but she reminded herself yet again that she didn’t have to bid. She held her paddle against her side, hoping her full skirt would conceal it as she edged into the main meeting room.

“There you are.” Gladys smiled at her from behind a lavishly decorated table complete with a bubbling cauldron. She was in full witch regalia tonight, with flowing black robes to match the ever present witch’s hat. “Would you like some of my special punch? Only five dollars for a cup.”

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