Page 12 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

Grabbing my bag from the bed, I pulled out the clothes I’d packed in secret: black yoga pants, a loose t-shirt. Simple things that made me feel normal. Free. The second I tugged them on, something in my chest loosened.

I glanced at the dress one last time before striding over to it and grinding the overflowing, nasty fabric into the floor. With a wipe of my palms against each other, I turned away.

Bradley could have his wedding. I wasn’t going to be in it.

Dim lights barely lit up the hallway and the floorboards felt cool beneath my feet as I padded toward the glow of the living room on the right. Silence stretched between the walls, interrupted only by the faint creak of the house settling for the night.

Ruugar sat on an oversized couch, his long legs planted on the floor, his arms resting against the back cushions like it had been made especially for him. Orc-sized, however, so maybe it had.

He still exuded that calm, solid presence I’d noted the first time I met him. This male had beenbuilt for things that wouldn’t break under pressure and that not only made me feel secure for the first time in…well, forever, it kind of made me want to cry. I sniffed and held the latter back. Who knew how he’d respond if I started weeping.

The living room wasn’t what I expected, though I wasn't sure what I thought I’d find. No television. No pictures on the walls. Just a gorgeous wooden bookcase filled with thick tomes covered in embossed lettering I didn’t recognize. Orcish, maybe? His language. Not a single English title among them, though it hardly mattered. He was offering me temporary sanctuary, not a new home.

A low wooden table sat in front of the couch, glossy and new appearing. Across from him, a new, yet old-appearing wooden rocker slowly shifted, as if someone had just stepped away to get a drink in the kitchen. It was as orc-sized as everything else in the house, including the bed that had been built for orc-length legs. I’d felt the size of a child when I sat on the edge.

The furniture inside his house was plain. Simple. And strangely comforting.

I hesitated in the open doorway, but when he looked up, his gaze full of kindness and not a hint of anything creepy, I crossed the room and lowered myself into the rocking chair, tucking my feet underneath me.

Silence echoed around us. He didn’t ask if I was okay. Didn’t push or pry. Just waited. Ruugar appeared to possess a patience I’d rarely found in other males before. I suspected he could sit here quietly forever, and it wouldn’t bother him one bit.

Too bad my own thoughts weren’t as steady.

I rubbed my arms, glancing at the floor as everything caught up with me.

“I don’t know what to do.” The words barely made their way out, but they were true. So painfully true.

Ruugar’s dark eyes rested on me.

My words slipped out too fast, tumbling over each other in my rush to explain. “I only have a few hundred dollars, which won’t get me far. I have a credit card, but I bet anything they can track me if I used it. My father and Bradley are tech-savvy. I'm not. I wouldn’t put anything past them.” My throat burned. “They will hunt me forever. I should’ve planned better, but this was my first chance to run.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, the only shift in his expression. Without a word, he reached into his pocket, tugging something out and extending his hand toward me, palm up. Four gold nuggets the size of my thumbnail rested on his hand, catching the light, almost glowing.

“Is that real gold?” I asked, not sure if I could laugh or… Definitely didn’t want to cry.

“Yes.” He stretched his hand forward, offering me something impossibly valuable as if they were stones he’d picked up in the yard.

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I can’t take that.”

He didn’t move. “You need it.”

“There’s no denying that, but what am I supposed to do with raw gold?” I let out a low laugh, staring at the gleaming nuggets in his massive hand. Wanting to take them but knowing I couldn't. “I can’t walk into a bankand ask them to turn them into cash. That would raise questions. And questions mean attention, something I’m desperate to avoid.”

“I’ll trade them in for you and give you the paper money.”

“Where?” I didn’t remember seeing a real bank in town, but there must be an ATM. Did ATMs take gold nuggets?

“Wherever I need to.” Ruugar sat back, his hand now cupping the gold nuggets on his thigh. His face remained unreadable, but there was something in his posture that felt like disappointment. Or frustration. Like he wanted to help me, but he couldn’t figure out how.

“I mined it in the mountains,” he said, his tone careful, his eyes fixed on the wall past my shoulder. Not lying, per se, but not being completely honest. I’d bet anything on it. I doubted he'd stolen it, however. I'd pretty much just met him but there was an honest integrity in him I hadn't found in many other people. I knew con artists. I’d been raised by one, watching him refuse to pay for something he'd purchased then daring them to sue him, knowing they couldn't afford to take him to court. Then he'd laugh because he felt he'd won when all he did was make himself look like a nasty bully.

Bradley was exactly the same.

Ruugar was nothing like my father and Bradley.

“Keep your gold, though I do appreciate it,” I said. And I did. No one had ever handed me help this freely before. “I’m not sure I could actually use it.”

Ruugar slid them back into his pocket. “I understand. If you change your mind, they're yours.”

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