Page 31 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
So I left Jordan’s neighborhood and headed to the nearest grocery store.
Chapter 13
Jordan
The next morning, there was a steak on my doorstep—a New York strip steak from Safeway, the price tag still on it. Glancing up and down my street, I wondered how someone could have been walking by on their way from the grocery store at five in the morning and dropped their twenty-dollar steak on my doorstep—the doorstep that was a good ten feet from the sidewalk.
Kneeling down, I picked it up. It was cold—colder than I would have expected a steak to be in Baltimore in October. We weren’t the tropics, but we still had a few nights where the temps didn’t get below forty-five.
“Hey,” I called out—not super loud because it was really early and some of my neighbors weren’t up yet. “Did anyone drop their steak?”
I felt like an idiot half-shouting that into the pre-dawn, my breath fogging in front of me. There were no cars coming or going down my street. The sidewalks were empty. No one was awake but me. If someone had accidentally dropped their steak, they were long gone.
Ducking back inside, I put the steak in the fridge. Allsorts of weird thoughts ran through my head—warnings from my childhood about poisoned Halloween candy fueling my imagination. But why would someone poison a twenty-dollar steak and leave it on my doorstep? It’s not like I had enemies. If a customer was dissatisfied, they’d leave a horrible internet review for me, not figure out where I lived and deliver a poisoned steak to my door.
I intended on eating it eventually because I absolutely was not going to let a good steak go to waste. It wasn’t destined for dinner tonight, because I had a date. Maybe tomorrow night. Or I could just freeze it for later. And if a random person showed up on my doorstep asking if I’d happened to find a New York strip steak, I’d give it back.
After my usual morning search for cat puke, I threw on my workout clothes and grabbed my bag and purse before heading out to the gym. I wasn’t the only one there for an early workout. Parking, I joined ten other people, each of us nodding to each other and filing inside the moment the doors were unlocked.
Treadmill. Weights. Yoga.
It was my routine, and I loved a good routine. Spreading my mat out for the yoga class, I saw Stephanie and waved the werewolf over. We exchanged the usual pleasantries then dove into our vinyasa sequence, led by a very bendy man named Mario. When we finished, I smiled over at Stephanie.
“Do you need to rush right out to work? This might sound weird, but there is something I wanted to talk to you about. If you’re free, I’d love to buy you breakfast and pick your brain a bit.”
I felt a little awkward imposing on Stephanie like this. We were friendly enough to chat at the gym, but it wasn’t like we hung out together after a workout. Sadly, she wasthe only werewolf I knew well enough to even broach the topic of supernatural dental procedures with.
It was embarrassing. Why did I only know one shifter, and barely knew her at that? Plus, it wasn’t her responsibility to educate me on the medical industry and werewolves.
Stephanie smiled back. “I’d love breakfast. Two spin classes and arm day has me ready to eat a herd of deer.”
We drove separately and met inside Miss Shirley’s by the Inner Harbor. The place was packed, as usual, but we lucked out and got a small table for two by the window. I eyed the neighboring customers who were indulging in the famous Bloody Marys with an Old Bay Seasoning Rim and a garnish that included green tomato, pickled okra, and a jalapeño slice.
“Thinking of day drinking?” Stephanie asked with a grin.
“Thinking, but not doing,” I told her with regret. “I’ve got four implant procedures today.”
She made a face. “I hope you’ll be drinking after work, then. I don’t know how you do that, working in people’s mouths all day.”
I shrugged. “I’ll admit it’s not the most glamorous job in the world, but I love it. And I feel like I’m really making a difference in people’s lives.”
“Think I’ll stick with home renovations.”
“Did you finish work on that house in Reisterstown?” I asked.
“Finally.” Stephanie rolled her eyes. “I thought the plumbing in that master bath would be the death of me, and the wiring didn’t look like it had been touched since nineteen-twenty.”
I winced in sympathy, remembering how much I’dneeded to spend to get my row house in Federal Hill up to code.
“I’ve got exciting news, though.” The werewolf looked at the other customers and leaned closer. “I’m afraid to jinx it, but I’vegotto tell someone. I’m a finalist in the running to have my own season onHome Sweet Home.”
My mouth dropped open. Then I squealed, clapping a hand over my mouth to hold further excitement back as I looked around to see if anyone noticed.Home Sweet Homewas a nationally syndicated show that each season highlighted a historic remodel of a celebrity’s home. It was immensely popular, and contractors who were featured found their careers skyrocketing as a result of the viewership.
“Oh my God! Oh myGod!” I bounced in my seat, the only way I could manage to keep my voice reasonably quiet.
“Iknow!” Stephanie bounced in her seat as well. “Don’t tell anyone. I’m so afraid if it gets out, the whole deal will vanish in the wind.”
I made a zipped-lips motion. “Who is the celebrity?”
