Page 35 of Tempting Her Grumpy Protector
He stepped close, cupping her cheek.
“Hey,” he said softly, tilting her face up. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got this. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Are you sure?” She sniffed. “I’m so sorry, Greer. I know I’m always getting myself into messes.”
He sighed.
“That’s why I’m here—to get you out of them. It’s all right—it’s just a wrestling match. I can take that son-of-a-bitch—no problem.”
Sunny sniffed again and produced a small, watery smile.
“Thank you, Greer. You really as the best Protector.”
She threw her arms around his waist and Greer hugged her back, feeling her soft, curvy body melt against his own. His heart swelled—as annoying as his Ward sometimes was, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
Including winning a wrestling match with that fucking want-to-be rapist Chieftain.
The Thropp’ians were surrounding them now.
“Come—we must go to the pit for the match!” one of them said.
It was their guide from yesterday, Greer saw, looking down. The male was nodding eagerly and pointing in the direction everyone else was headed. There was a narrow path through the huge, waxy leaves and braided vines that appeared to have been trodden by many feet.
“Yeah, all right. We’re coming,” he said.
Looping an arm around Sunny’s shoulders protectively, he kept her close as they followed the crowd to a large clearing in the jungle. They moved together toward the wrestling pit, the crowd parting with eager murmurs as Greer came to the front.
His jaw tightened when he saw the “arena.” It was nothing more than a narrow wooden board spanning a wide, glistening pit of bright green slime that frothed and bubbled ominously.
“Oh my God!” Sunny’s voice was unsteady. “What in the world is that stuff?” she asked the guide, pointing at the green goo that filled the pit.
“Oh, that is bag’wah slime,” the guide said. “It is the waste product produced when we squeeze the snivelings to make our gorthum gel. It’s a delicacy,” he explained, seeing their blank faces. “We had some earlier today in the Communal eating area.”
Sunny’s nose wrinkled.
“Er…is that the gray stuff we had at breakfast?” she asked.
“Yes—it’s a specialty of our tribe.” The guide sounded proud about it.
“And what did you say it’s made of again? Snive-lings? What are those?” she asked.
“Why, they’re a kind of worm—they get about this long.” The guide held his hands about an arm’s length apart. “Their meat is quite tasty when pounded to make the gorthum gel. But first their innards must be squeezed out—the pit is where we squeeze them.”
Greer scowled. Great. So not only was he wrestling for Sunny’s honor—he was going to do it over a pit filled with slimy green worm innards. This day just kept getting better and better.
“Now it is time for the combatants to come forth!” someone shouted.
Two attendants with ceremonial paint and long spears ushered Greer to one end of the plank, the Chief to the other.
“Now strip,” one of them said to Greer.
“Unless you’d rather the slime eat your clothing if you fall in,” the other added.
Greer didn’t like this at all—wrestling naked over a pit filled with green slime in front of a crowd had definitely not been on his to-do list for the day. But as always, when he was with Sunny, unexpected things happened.
With a muttered curse, he began stripping off his shirt, trousers, and boots. Though Sunny had chosen to go on wearing the native uniform of nothing but the long, grass skirt, Greer had decided to put on his own clothing that morning because he preferred being fully covered, unlike his Ward who was turning out to be some kind of closet exhibitionist, he thought sourly.
Well, so much for modesty.
