Page 18 of One Night with Her Mountain Orc

Chapter 12

August

One Month Later

“Congratulations. Thisis the first day in weeks that your ugly mug hasn’t been in the newspaper.” Each word of Koru’s is a grunt and grumble directed at Bjorn. I wince, but Bjorn just takes it in stride and flips him the bird.

“Thank you, dear brother. Clearly I’ve fallen down on my job of embarrassing you. I’ll try to do a better job in the coming days.” He bows low, and I can’t help but snort a laugh at the ridiculousness of my brawny orc bowing to his brewmaster brother.

Grabbing the newspaper from the bar, I flip through. “Oh! The spring flower festival is coming up. I remember going to that with May and our moms when I was younger.” My voice trails off as my heart catches up with what my mouth is saying.

Though this month has been one of my happiest in a long time, there’s a pinprick of grief where May is concerned. She won’t return my texts or calls. I saw her riding shotgun in Chad’s truck yesterday. I waved. She looked away; her face drawn and tight, mouth turned down.

Bjorn saw and wrapped me in his arms, right on the sidewalk in front of the Moonlit Grounds Café and Bakery. I’m surprised that image isn’t in today’s paper. Do you think folks are tiring of our story, or just used to seeing us together in public? I need a shirt that reads, “Normalize Orc Love”.

Bjorn’s hand rests on my arm. His dark eyes focused, but gentle. “She’ll come around. I promise. Nothing would make me happier than to take you to the spring flower festival; I’ve never been.” Koru snorts from behind Bjorn. I glimpse the barkeep’s face, which confirms to me just how ridiculous the words flowing out of Bjorn’s mouth are.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been.”

“I tend to stay in the mountains. Away from all the happy people emerging from hibernation.” At that statement, I snort.

“Spring is my favorite. Mud, slush. Pretty colors promising life. Seal pups in the harbor. It’s a glorious time. I’d love to share it with you.”

“You two are gross. And too lovey-dovey for my taste. Tone it down or get out.” Koru slides a mug of coffee to me, then marches back to the kitchen to check on whatever delicious thing he’s cooking for this evening’s crowd. The scent in the air is roasted meat, spices, and, of course, beer.

“How about a walk?” Bjorn waggles his eyebrows at me. My ankle is better, but I still can’t hike yet. A slow walk around the pond outside of town sounds perfect.

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WE’RE ALMOST AROUNDthe boardwalk that encircles part of the pond. “Pond” being a limiting word. It’s a large wetland. Spring peepers are beginning to sing. A moose peeked through the trees as we trod softly on the aged boards. Ahead, there’s a heron standing on a dead tree in the pond. I can’t tell if he’s hunting or surveying the spot as a future nesting area.

The sky is a light gray with occasional rays of sunshine peeking through. It’s really a perfect day to be outside. Bjorn spent half the walk in silence, letting me point out my favorite bits of spring to him. The other half he spent making fun of his brothers, mocking them, telling me stories of their growing up together. As an only child, I’m both in awe of their antics and horrified at their behavior toward one another.

As the trees open up into a field, which leads to the parking lot, we hear shouting voices. We can’t see the people. Bjorn gives me a look and rolls his eyes. I’m about to do the same, when I recognize one of the voices. May.

I take off running, which really means I take a leap and then crumple to the ground. Cursing and hissing at my stupidity, I gather myself up, only to be lifted by Bjorn, who sets me on my feet but doesn’t let go of me. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s May.” My voice cracks, betraying my emotions. But I don’t need to explain myself. Making sure I’m stable, he takes off at a lope that’s both graceful and intimidating. Limping, I follow.

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