Page 88 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
“It’s up there,” I told her. “Gotta say it’s a dealbreaker of a question, but not the only dealbreaker.”
“That’s fair. Extrovert or introvert?” she asked.
“More introvert than extrovert, but he seems to enjoy hanging with the team and going out, so I’m going to say an eight on the compatibility scale.”
“Foodie?” Abby continued.
I smiled fondly. “He’s always willing to trying anything I put in front of him. He’ll go anywhere, do anything. I really love that about him. He’s not snobby about food or activities at all. He’s open for any adventure. A ten.”
Abby nodded. “We’ve already discussed kids.”
“We’re a five on that right now, but I’m hoping we can come to an agreement.”
Abby put her notepad down. “He’s scoring high, but the big roadblock seems to be that he wants to go home to live, and you don’t. And the kid issue.”
I glanced at the television. They’d cut to an image of the orcs entering the press area of the arena in Buffalo. Immediately, my eyes went to Ozar, wearing a T-shirt that stretched tight across his chest and a knit cap with his black hair spilling out beneath the edge. The orc fidgeted, looking like he would love nothing more than to bolt past the press and take refuge on the bus, which is what he did after answering a few brief questions.
Abby sighed. “Ozar and Ugwyll are the fan favorites. I really need to coach them on interviews.”
“Bwat does a good job,” I pointed out. “He’s relaxed and seems to enjoy answering their questions.”
“Yeah, but he’s not seen as a dynamic player. He’s…just kind of there on the ice. It’s not all his fault. Defense just doesn’t get as much attention.” Abby frowned. “When they’re back in town, I’ll put together better profiles on the other players. We can’t just focus on Ozar and Ugwyll all the time.”
“You’re really into this.” I smiled, loving that Abby was doing this. Yes, she was getting paid, but any hype she and her company could generate for the team would help Ozarto be more satisfied in his job—and hopefully he’ll be satisfied enough to want to remain here.
I didn’t want him to leave. But I didn’t want to go with him and live the rest of my life with his clan. And we’d need to address this issue soon. Tonight’s game with Buffalo was their last on the road. The team would be returning home tomorrow in preparation for a game against the Avalanche. Andthen, we would have to talk about our future—one that we hopefully could spend together.
Chapter 39
Ozar
Iwas the first orc off the transportation beast, yawning and rubbing the shaggy beard I hadn’t bothered to properly trim while on the road. The human assistants who’d hopped off before the bus had barely come to a stop were already yanking luggage and equipment from the storage areas under Sizzle’s watchful eye. Feeling guilty, I turned to give them a hand. We were free to stagger back to our apartments, although we’d need to be up early for practice. The humans would be here late, though, ensuring everything was put into the appropriate storage compartment. Dirty laundry would be promptly sent off for cleaning. Equipment inspected. Skates sharpened. Sizzle might be a demon, but he took his duties seriously and demanded the same from the humans on his staff.
Strange. Back home I’d never thought I’d admire a demon for his work ethic. Or be working in the human world. Or come to the realization that as much as I loved and missed my home, this human world had charms of its own—charms beyond my beloved mate.
“Ozar!”
I spun around at the sound of Jordan’s voice, abandoning my plans to assist the humans unloading the bus. She was bundled up in a puffy blue coat with white mittens. A thick lock of her brown hair had escaped the white knit hat to curl around her jaw. She ran toward me, and I opened my arms, catching her as she jumped.
Her legs wrapped around my waist. I held her against my chest, burying my face in the warm skin of her neck.
I would have been glad to stay that way forever, but Jordan pulled her head back to plant a quick kiss on my lips, then slid down my body to stand still pressed against me, her arms now around my waist.
“Get your bag and come home with me,” she commanded.
I wasn’t about to say no to that. As much as I’d grown to enjoy my little apartment, I wasn’t ashamed to admit that Jordan’s house was nicer—especially now that I’d bought her some much-needed furs. Plus, I knew that Judy didn’t like being left home alone all night. There was nothing I desperately needed to do or to check on at my place, so I found my duffle bag in the pile next to the bus, wrapped my arm around Jordan’s shoulder, and followed her to her car.
It feels so good to be home.
I started as the thought flitted through my mind. These streets were so familiar to me. I jogged them every day, waving at the residents on their front stoops, stopping to buy a bottle of water at a corner grocery, nodding as I passed humans walking their dogs, humans pushing baby strollers, humans with plastic grocery bags in each hand, or their phone pressed to their ear. There was the gas station where an old human with the tight silver curls of his beard framing a wrinkled brown face worked on his vintage Fairlane between helping customers. There was the tiny deliwhere a pair of male humans traded quips and made the best corned beef sandwiches. The barber shop where a twenty-minute haircut seemed to become a three-hour social visit. The nail salon. The row of houses with a sidewalk that had been decorated with a mural of local historical figures in chalk.
A warmth spread through my chest. It wasn’t just ice cream and milk I loved about Baltimore. It wasn’t just Jordan. Somehow this place had become home. And it had taken a two-week absence to realize it.
I still missed my clan, my friends, my father, my troops. I still missed the way the shadow of the mountain crept across the meadow in the late afternoon. I missed our traditional foods, the house I’d built by hand for my future family. It hurt to think of giving that up, of never seeing that again.
But it hurt just as much to think that I might never seethisagain, either.
As I folded my body into the small confines of Jordan’s car, I began to think. Would it be so bad to make my home here? The hockey team was improving and our losses, while still humiliating, weren’t quite as bad as they had been when we’d started. And we had fans that cheered us on even when we weren’t playing in Baltimore. Maybe I could make something of this team—something that would satisfy my need to be a valued and skilled contributor, a leader of a team. It might not be a team of Guardians like I’d had back home, but a hockey team still seemed to provide something of value to the humans who enjoyed the sport.
