Page 7 of First Comes Orc, Second Comes Baby
“The delulu is strong with this one.”
“Jezebel! Orc spittle!”
“Now wait just one second—” Charlotte stopped trying to push through the protesters.
“Are you wearing the cartoon Orc earrings?” Caro asked. “I told you to stop that. It just makes you a target.”
“I wanted my date to know I’m pro-Orc.”
“Because joining a Human/Orc matchmaking agency hasn’t clued him in?”
Charlotte turned to the Human woman. “I’m really interested in what you have to say. Can you tell me why you want the Orcs to go back to. . .I’m not certain where it is they’re supposed to go?”
“Back through the Realm Gate,” the woman said, voice a decibel quieter.
“Oh. The Realm Gate.” Charlotte eyed the woman, now understanding she was dealing with someone insane. “So. . .you believe the Orcs aren’t originally from Earth? I understand why you want them to go home then.”
The woman’s mouth gaped open. She was an average sized Human with short dark hair and what was colloquially called olive skin—yes, yes, Charlotte knew olives were technically green, no need to point out the obvious, and that it made more sense to refer to Orcs as olive skinned, not Humans—
“Well, yeah,” the woman said, recovering. “I have a brochure. . .just let me—”
“Do you want me to hold your sign?”
“Oh, could you? Just one moment. . .”
Twenty minutes later Charlotte was escorted through the crowd by the same woman, exchanging Instagram profiles.
“Another one bites the dust,” she whispered to her silent sister.
“You didn’t actually convince her she was wrong,” Caro said.
“No, but I made her start to think that maybe I’m not wrong either.”
“Anyway,” was the dry reply. “Coffee date?” Voice neutral, Caro’s expression said everything her voice didn't.
Snowkiss yipped in agreement. Charlotte was convinced the Cotonese was a mind reader.
“Okay, yeah, I know you think coffee dates are for cheapos, but I like it,” Charlotte said. “I like to cut through all the mating baloney and. . .get to know each other, low key. See if there's a genuine connection, you know?”
“But I really don't know. Char. . .it's cheap. You signed up forMillionOrc Matchmakers, and your match is taking you out to coffee? He might as well ask you to bend over and give him a cookie before he even buys you a gallon of milk.”
Charlotte blinked, then laughed. “That's a new one.”
“I thought you might like it.” Caro smirked. “But. . .don't dive into this one full tilt this time, okay? Boundaries. That's the safe word. Boundaries.”
Charlotte repeated that word under her breath, to remind herself. “Well, I'm here now so I'm going disconnect and grab a seat.” And try to get her enthusiasm under control so she didn't come off as too eager.
But Brahnt Stonefist’s picture defined hot.
Tall, with thick brown hair and a no-nonsense blue-gray stare, emerald skin with a warm undertone. The hint of a sardonic smile at the corner of his sensual mouth, tusks gleaming and. . .tippy.
Those tips looked very sharp.
He screamed reformed bad boy, which, unfortunately, was Charlotte’s type. It was also one of the reasons why she had paid MillionOrc the retainer fee, because they investigated every Orc. The objective, thorough vetting was a major bonus for someone prone to falling head over heels in love with a smoldering gaze and planning their nursery for twins ten minutes after the first date.
“Boundaries,” she muttered, clinging to the word. “Boundaries.”
Charlotte fidgeted in her seat, which was involuntary, and swiped through tabs on her smartphone, which wasn't. She was trying to project nonchalant but emotionally available rather than insanely eager and down for whatever if you take me now. So maybe she should have waited until she was feeling less horny to accept a first date. But when was she ever feeling less horny? Somedays she wondered if she was perpetually ovulating.
