Fake Dating an Orc Cowboy (Sweet Monster Treats)

4. Rosey

Chapter 4

Rosey

H eat him up . . .

My gaze shot to his groin. When he’d settled me on the edge of the airline counter and spread my legs to step between them, he’d rubbed against me. There had been no missing the fact that this guy was big all over. Something had hummed down there, but he hadn’t pressed hard enough for me to figure out what it might be.

I had to be mistaken. No guy packed vibrating devices in his briefs.

I stood and grabbed my bag. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He rose as well, towering over everyone. A few people watched him with curiosity, but most ignored him. He wasn’t the only orc in the place.

A frown bloomed on his cheeks. “Heat me . . . Leap. I’m saying this phrase wrong. Could you help me heat up so I’m not . . . No, not heat. I worry I’ll be afraid, and I need something to distract me.”

“If it will help, I’ll talk your ear off.”

His frown deepening, he rubbed his pointed right ear and cupped it a moment before lowering his arm to his side.

“That’s a saying,” I said. “Like a joke. I won’t really remove your ear. It just means I’ll chatter a lot.”

“Good, good.” He sent me a nervous smile. “I appreciate it.”

The poor guy. He really was worried. I would do all I could to help him relax.

I took his hand, and we went up to the desk, scanning our boarding passes before walking down the passage and getting on the plane. I showed him how to tuck his comically small-for-his-size backpack under the seat ahead of ours.

“Window seat or aisle?” I asked.

He glanced at the two places and shrugged.

“Why don’t you take the window? You might enjoy looking at the ground as the plane soars over it.”

I wasn’t sure a green-skinned guy could get any greener, but my fake orc boyfriend did.

“Take the aisle instead,” I said. “Then you can run to the bathroom if you need to.” I’d make sure he knew where to find the paper bag as well. Hopefully he’d see this wasn’t a scary experience and enjoy the flight. At least we didn’t have any stops along the way.

I scooted into the window seat and sat while he dropped into the aisle seat. It was good that they’d moved him to first class. His knees bumped against the seat ahead even here.

“Buckle up,” I said.

He frowned at his legs.

I leaned over and helped him secure the fastening. “All set.”

“I appreciate you so much, Rosey,” he groaned, as if I’d performed CPR and brought him back from the cusp of death. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Without me, you wouldn’t be here.” Maybe it was wrong to take an orc who knew almost nothing about air travel on a plane, let alone to Mexico. Would he enjoy the experience, or would it make him decide he did want to return to the orc kingdom as soon as his contract negotiations were finished?

“This is true, and I can’t imagine such a thing.” Turning slightly, his gaze fell on my mouth. “I enjoyed kissing you, Rosey. I want to do it again.”

I didn’t have to force a smile because I felt the same. “I imagine you’ll have other opportunities.”

“Because we’re pretending to be a couple.”

“Congratulations, you two.” A steward stopped beside us and handed us each a glass of champagne. “I was told you’re on your honeymoon! Here’s a little drink to celebrate.”

“Have you had alcohol before?” I asked Ostor as he held the fluted glass in his big hand, his eyes narrowing in on the bubbles rising to the top. “Oh, that’s right. You had a beer at the bar, didn’t you?”

“Nest beer.”

Nest . . . “Oh, you mean near -beer? That doesn’t have alcohol. This does.”

“Is this alcohol good?” he asked the steward who still stood nearby, tucked out of the aisle enough that passengers could keep boarding.

“It’s a matter of perspective,” I said. “It can have an impact on your brain, though this isn’t a lot.”

“It’s delicious. Congratulations again!” the steward said, turning and continuing through the cabin.

“Do you like this pain?” I wasn’t sure he could scowl any harder.

“ Champagne . No pain unless you drink the entire bottle. And yeah, I like it.” I took a sip.

He watched me before lifting it to his nose and sniffing. After grunting, he placed the glass to his lips and drained it in a few swallows, erupting in coughing after. “It . . . it . . .” he choked out, banging his chest. “Why is it clawing my throat?”

“This is a sparkling wine. The bubbles can have that effect.” I sipped more of my drink.

They closed the cabin and taxied the plane along the runway. And as the jets heated up and roared, I expected Ostor to clutch his armrests. Cling to my hand. Stare at me while he had a full-blown panic attack.

Instead, Ostor started singing in a deep, robust voice. “Out on the prairie, all alone in my socks, with only a beast called a sorhox. We're both green and maybe a touch ugly, but we share one bliss—When I'm feeling lonely, I give the sorhox a kiss.”

Someone behind us snickered.

Ostor kept repeating the same verse until people around us started singing along. Alcohol affected everyone differently, so there was no telling if this was his norm or if he was getting silly after one glass of champagne. If this was any indication of how orcs responded to alcohol in general, we’d have to take care at the all-inclusive resort, where drinks flowed like water at the Hoover Dam.

I found this part of him adorable.

It was going to pinch when we said goodbye.