Page 36 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
I nodded, taking notes on my phone as she led me down the shelves of meat, looking through the different packages until she held one up and put it in my cart.
“Leg of lamb. Now let’s head for the veggie section.”
I followed her, jotting down that I should thinly slice the onions, and that the garlic should be peeled, separated, and wedged into the slits I needed to cut in the meat. There were three types of unpronounceable spices I was supposed to rub on the lamb, then tomatoes, olives, and little salted fish that came in a tin were to go on the bottom of the heavy Dutch oven she’d placed in my cart. By the time she was done, I had a cart full of groceries and instructions to make something that hopefully would be similar toSwakegastew.
It was far more than I could carry in the flimsy plastic bags they usually put my purchases in, so after I paid, I got a large box from the back of the store, transferred everything into it, and walked home with it up on my shoulder.
With my notes and all of my groceries spread out, I began chopping and slicing, preheating the oven as Amina had told me. Back home our stoves were heated with wood, but this human one was powered by a cord attached to the wall and that certainly was convenient. It heated quickly without all the smoke, although I missed the smell of the burning wood.
I was nervous about leaving the stove unattended, so I cleaned my small apartment. Back home, I would have shown my mate my spacious dwelling with my handcrafted furniture and beautiful, warm furs, but here I would have to make do with what I’d been able to afford with my job as a hockey player.
After a few hours I realized that my cooking wasn’t going to burn the building down. Reassured, I left to go buy some additional items to make the apartment seem less sparse. Bwat had composed a list of must-have items when inviting a female to my home, so I found myself running all over the city to buy decorative pillows, flowers, candles, fur blankets, and a fancy little towel for thebathroom.
The flowers went on the table, along with the dishes that had come with the furnished apartment. I put jars of candles on every flat surface, deciding I should wait to light them until a few minutes before Jordan was to come over. I scattered the decorative pillows on the couch, propping some of the larger ones up against a wall. Half of the furs went on the couch, and the other half went on my bed. I’d really gone overboard on them, but back home, furs didn’t just provide comfort and warmth, they were a symbol of virility. I had no idea whether that was true with humans, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have an overabundance of them just in case.
With nothing else to do, I showered, put on clean clothes, checked on dinner, then waited.
Chapter 15
Jordan
Istaggered up the steps to Ozar’s fifth floor apartment, wishing I hadn’t worn the boots with the high heels since his apartment didn’t have a working elevator. It wasn’t a particularly disreputable neighborhood or a bad apartment building; it was just very average and not what I expected someone playing for an NHL team to have rented. But what did I know? Maybe he was sending money home to his family, or saving up to buy a swanky house, or maybe the demon who owned the Tusks paid them crap wages. Whatever the reason, I was carrying two bottles of wine and a box of cannoli from Vaccaros as well as a Brazo de Gitano from Tio Pepe’s. Those packages plus my heels meant I was forced to take several breaks as I climbed the stairs.
Arriving slightly out of breath and hoping I hadn’t accidentally crushed the pine nut roll, I knocked at Ozar’s door. He opened it as if he’d been hovering right by the entrance. We stared at each other, sparks flying.
“Mawrk!” he said, reaching out to take the bags. “Greetings! Come in. I didn’t mean to make you stand at my door holding all this.”
Some of my nervousness fled seeing that he was just as anxious. The orc spun around, looking for a spot to put the bags before just setting them down on the floor and reaching to take my coat.
“I’ll put this…” He spun around again.
I bit back a smile. “In the closet?” I pointed to the door that led, I assumed, to a hallway closet.
Ozar opened the door, then cursed—at least, I thought it was a curse. “There are no pegs. Why would someone build a coat room and not put in pegs to hang your coats?”
“Probably because we use hangers.” I laughed at his perplexed expression. “I’ll buy you some. Just put my coat over a chair or on your bed or something.”
“I will do that.”
He vanished into a back room with my coat while I looked around. Ozar’s apartment was sparsely furnished, but he’d clearly tried to brighten the place up a bit with some personal touches. There was only one couch in front of a wall-mounted television, but he had some big cushions against the wall that I guess he used for additional seating. The sofa’s upholstery was hidden beneath a pile of furry blankets and red geometric-printed pillows. Furry pillows sat against the back of the dining chairs, and a furry rug lay between the laminate coffee table and the wall with the television.
I was sensing a fur theme here. And a candle theme.
The fur probably was Ozar’s aesthetic, but the fact that there were fresh flowers on the table made me wonder if the candles were also for my benefit. They were all lit, and that definitely shouted, “romantic dinner.”
Ozar came back and picked up the two bags with the pastries. I grabbed the other one.
“I bought a few things for dessert—some local sweetsthat everyone who lives in Baltimore should try,” I told him. “Why don’t you put them in the fridge, and I’ll open up the wine for us?”
He looked down into the bag and sniffed, making an appreciative noise before ushering me into the kitchen. I wondered how good his sense of smell was. Better than a human’s? Better than a dog’s? I hoped my deodorant held up through the marathon climb to his apartment, or this was going to be an awkward first date.
I had noticed an incredible aroma wafting from the kitchen the moment I walked into the apartment. Entering the kitchen made my mouth water. Whatever Ozar was cooking, it smelled amazing—rich and meaty and spicy.
It wasn’t canned chili with hotdogs, and I’ll admit I fell a little more in love knowing he’d gone to the trouble to cook what smelled like a gourmet meal for me.
Ozar opened the fridge and slid the boxes inside. I’m nosy, so I looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see a variety of fresh vegetables, a couple of nice steaks, a six-pack of dark beer, and a tub of unsweetened Greek yogurt, and what looked to be farmhouse milk in an actual glass container. Not at all what I expected from a bachelor orc.
I easily found a corkscrew and opened the red while Ozar pulled two glasses from the cabinet. They weren’t wine glasses, but I wasn’t about to get snobby about drinking from highballs when that incredible smell was coming from his oven.
