Page 8 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
My brain short circuited as she gently touched my loose tusk. Did she know what that meant? Probably not.Humans didn’t have tusks, so this female probably had no idea how intimate it was to fondle another’s tusk.
The female stepped back again, wiping her hands on more of the little white cloths and digging into her purse. “I’m going to need to see that Monday morning. I’ll squeeze you in first thing at eight, so be there on time.”
I took the card that she held out and read it. I’d been working hard on learning the humans’ scribbly language and recognized an address and phone number along with two lines that must be her name. Names? Why were there two lines? The humans I’d met so far didn’t have this many names. Maybe she was a special human? Maybe this included her titles and rank? Was she also a military officer?
Her voice broke me from my thoughts. “And if you can find those two teeth, wrap them in wet cloths and bring them in with you. I doubt I can put them back in, but I can use them to mold new teeth for you. I’ll also need to do X-rays and see if there are any broken sections left that I need to remove and determine if you need a bone graft to support the implants.”
I nodded, glancing once more at the card. I hadn’t understood most of what she said, but it was clear she wanted me to meet her Monday morning at this address. “I will be there. My gratitude, Schooner Dental Reconstruction. You are kind and beautiful.”
I was proud of my careful pronunciation, and equally proud to remember not to add “spinster” to her name. I’d learned that last night when trying to buy a human female a beverage at the bar near the stadium.
She made a snort-noise that I thankfully realized was the human version of expressing mirth.
“It’s Doctor Schooner, but you can call me Jordan.” The female extended her hand.
“Ozar.” I gently took her hand in mine, trying not to crush it or break any of the pretty, painted, delicate claws. “Please call me Ozar.”
“Ozar. A powerful name. It suits you.” She smiled, and I released her hand. “I’ll see you Monday morning, Ozar.”
Staring as she walked away, I noticed that she hadn’t wiped her hand off after touching me as so many human women did.
She’d expressed concern over my damaged tusk—even touching it. She hadn’t appeared repulsed by me; in fact, she’d invited me to visit her at a very indecent hour Monday morning. Even if the mate bond hadn’t wrapped its delicate threads about my heart, I would have been transfixed by her.
My hand-axe more than liked her, but that was typical. I hadn’t been with another in quite a while. Abstinence plus the euphoria of a mate bond had me hard as a metal rod.
No other female would do. I wanted my hand-axe to rise for no one but her, spill seed for no one but her. I knew that future self-pleasure releases would only occur when thinking of her.
Jordan. My mate, Jordan.
Reaching into my pants, I ripped the plastic cup off and tossed it across the parking lot. My member sprung free inside the pants, and I reached down to adjust it.
A mate.
Hopefully she felt the same way. I might have lost two teeth, and my team may have lost the game, but I’d won in every way that mattered. I’d found my true mate.
Chapter 4
Jordan
This is ridiculous, I thought as I made my way to the pub where my friends and I were going to grab drinks. Why had I gone into dentist mode the moment I’d seen that orc wiggle his tusk? Why had I offered to provide him with dental care and given him what amounted to a VIP appointment when my practice was booked for three months out?
It wasn’t like I was doing this pro bono, though. The guy probably had great insurance. And doing reconstructive work for a hockey player would boost the status of my practice, even if that hockey player was an orc.
But none of that was why I’d offered to help him. Good insurance and a pro-athlete patient wasn’t an adequate excuse for examining a total stranger’s mouth in the middle of a parking lot—a stranger who hadn’t filled out a ton of paperwork and hadn’t been seated in a chair in my office by one of my staff. Why had Idonethat? Was it the challenge of fixing an orc’s teeth? Was it an academic interest in his unusual jaw and dental structures?
Was it the sparks that danced along my nerve endingswhen I’d touched him? The very non-professional concern I’d felt as I’d examined his tusk? Or the heat that had pooled between my thighs when he’d so gently taken my offered hand and shook it? His hand had been huge, easily able to break the bones in mine with a hard squeeze, but he’d been so careful. And his golden-brown whisky eyes had shown with kindness, reverence…attraction.
He wasn’t my type. The orc thing…it was horrible to think this, but I’d never imagined dating anyone but a human male. Even without the green skin and the tusks, he was just…big. The guy was seven feet tall and a wall of hard muscles—muscles so defined I could clearly see them from the stands at the game.
I’d never gone for the jocks. I made it a hard rule not to date sports figures, musicians, or actors.
And he was anorc.
But orc or not, something about him stirred me like no one had in over a year—like no oneeverhad.
Shaking my head to clear it of such thoughts, I opened the door to the pub and headed straight for the ladies’ room to wash my hands. Good grief. I’d examined someone’s teeth without even wearing gloves, with nothing but cheap pocket-sized tissues to sponge up his blood. Again,whathad I been thinking?
After I’d washed my hands twice and applied sanitizer from my purse, I headed back into the dining area and saw Willa waving at me from a back table.
