Page 8 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc

Hospital coffee—even badly burnt and bitter—felt oddly comforting after weeks of cheaper instant stuff in my apartment. Cheaper because I hadn’t planned on needing an apartment in Silvermist Falls at all. But that disastrous ritual two weeks ago left me no choice. Digby needed me, and breaking his curse required resources. Resources meant money. Money meant employment, and bills waited for no witch.

At least the small-town hospital felt quiet after years in bigger facilities. The two-story buildinghoused a small ER with eight beds and a collection of doctor offices for routine care. Each room was equipped for both human and supernatural patients, though the former tended to require stitches, splints, and antacids while the latter included spells, potions, and occasionally fur removal from odd places.

“You’ll get used to the pace.” Bree leaned against the nurses’ station, coffee mug cradled in her hands. “Small town doesn’t mean boring. Silvermist’s got character.”

“And characters.” Susan settled into the chair beside me. “Remember that siren last spring? Three different shifters fighting over her in the parking lot.”

“While she just sat there filing her nails.” Bree shook her head. “At least they took it outside. Unlike that wendigo couple last month.”

“Sounds eventful.” I smiled despite myself. The easy banter reminded me of my old hospital, before everything went sideways with a gorgon turning my life plans to stone.

My heart ached at the reminder of Digby’s continued decor status. I missed him. Not just for the magic—though working spells without my familiar felt like trying to write with my off hand. I missed his grumpy huffs and puffs. His steady presence at my side. The way he always knew exactly when to offer comfort or distraction.

“Usually quiets down in the winter.” Bree stretched. “Most supernaturals handle their own healing anyway. Especially the orcs up in Grimstone.”

My ears caught on ‘orcs’ and ‘Grimstone’. Heat bloomed through mu core as memories crashed over me. Strong hands gripping my hips. A gravelly voice snarling against my throat. The way he’d felt inside me, stretching me open while magic surged around us...

I shifted in my chair, clearing my throat. “The orcs handle their own healing?”

“Most of them.” Bree sipped her coffee. “They’ve got shamans for that. Though the chief’s mate works her magic with them sometimes.”

“His mate’s a witch?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Miranda, I think?” Susan nodded. “She’s helped a lot with bridging the communities. The clan even opened a shop downtown last month. They’re expanding their woodworking stall from the farmer’s market.”

That explained some of his venom about witches tearing families apart. Though not all of it. There was too much raw hatred in how he’d spat the word ‘witch’ for it to just be about the chief’s mate.

A knock on the doorframe saved me from more dangerous questions. “Ladies.”

Dr. Harrison Rocha stood in the entrance, dark hair artfully tousled and smile professionally charming. “I was thinking of welcoming our newest nurse to the team with dinner at Silver Kettle. My treat.”

Bree and Susan exchanged a look I couldn’t quite read.

“Thanks, but I promised my kids a movie night.” Susan grabbed her bag with suspicious speed.

“Rain check.” Bree was already halfway to the door. “Early shift tomorrow.”

And just like that, I was alone with Harrison’s expectant smile.

I should have made my own excuse. But burning bridges on day one wouldn’t help Digby, and a free meal was a free meal. Even if something about Harrison’s too-perfect smile set my teeth on edge.

Fuck.

“The Silver Kettle has the best patio in town.” He held the door as we left Silvermist Medical. “Perfect weather for outdoor dining.”

The place lived up to Harrison’s praise. Hugging the end of a row of cute shops lining Main Street, the restaurant boasted a brick courtyard dotted with wrought iron tables. Strings of lights crisscrossed overhead, creating a warm ambiance. Even the mountains seemed close enough to touch, looming high above the streets.

It should have been cozy. Instead, it felt suffocating. Being out in public reminded me how exposed I was without Digby nearby. That first week after his petrification had been hell. Walking around town filled me with nervous energy, and the urge to run kept growing stronger every day.

Harrison chose a table near the railing, ordering wine before I could protest. “Red okay?”

“Sure.” I focused on the menu instead of his too-perfect smile. The prices made my bank account weep, but he’d offered to pay. After weeks of living on ramen packets while I hunted for work, I planned to order the most expensive thing they served.

“The chef here does an amazing filet mignon.” Harrison leaned back, completely at ease. “Though I usually avoid the salmon. You know how sensitive the… diverse population can get. Wouldn’t want some kraken claiming I ate their cousin, after all.”

The hesitation before ‘diverse’ carried volumes of meaning. The hollow laugh he tacked on at the end made me want to punch him. I thought of the orc’s accusations about corruption and darkness. At least he’d been honest in his prejudice.

My fingers tightened on the menu. “I imagine most people know the difference between friends and food.”

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