Sneak Peek from One Night with Her Grumpy Orc
Grev
OF ALL THE FUCKING bonkers things to have happened to me. Today. It had to be this. A runaway snowplow truck hitting my favorite place in town. Threatening to take out my favorite person in town.
I’ve never even shaken hands with Betty Pallson, and now I’m on top of her, protecting her from the avalanche of books and wall that rained down on her.
Her body is so soft, and I’m close enough to catch a whiff of her vanilla and pear scent. Gods, her glasses are crooked on her straight nose, and the temptation to straighten them almost gets me, but my giant hand in her face might scare her.
What used to be the front window of the library is now a giant gash of emptiness and shambles. There is no blizzard. No parking lot. No adorable town. Just the weird blue-grey light that comes from giant piles of snow blocking us in. Icy air floods into the library from the missing window, extinguishing any heat that was here. But there’s no way out.
The snowplow truck revs outside, the tires spinning in the slick snow. Stuck. Against the main entrance to the library. There’s pounding on the door, I assume it’s the plow driver.
It takes several tries to get Betty to wake up. Her breath is shallow, almost a pant. It concerns me—maybe I crushed her when I pulled her out of the way? Eventually, after almost yelling her name and shaking her, Betty groans and her eyes flutter open. Thank the gods she’s awake.
“Let me help you up,” I say as I grunt and stand, crunching part of the wall and a children’s fairytale book under my boots.
Reaching out a hand, she grasps it, a marvel of small and delicate in my hand, and I pull her up. Wobbly on her legs, I guide her to her desk so she can sit, dusting off her shoulders and pulling bits of flotsam out of her hair. Her cheeks are a deep rosy color that trails down her neck. She must be colder than I thought she was.
The pounding continues. A muffled “Hello?” comes through the door. I shout back and leave her to talk to the door.
“My truck is good and stuck. Everyone okay in there?” I recognize Matt’s voice. He sounds shaken.
“Yeah. Betty and Grev. The power’s out. Can you call for help?”
“Cell tower is down. I’ll see what I can do.” I wait for more information, but he’s gone. I suppose he’s even colder out in the weather than we are in here.
Before I turn my attention to Betty, who I want to inspect for injuries and wrap her up in the thickest blankets in front of a fire, I assess our reality. Blizzard conditions outside. Power is out, as are cell phones. And it’s just the two of us in this building with a gaping hole.
“Grev, did the snowplow run through the library?” Betty asks, shivering. Her teeth chatter, the sound making my own hurt. I bring her my coat off the rack and set it over her shoulders. I don’t see hers. No wall in the library is a big problem. Bending down, I pick up the books and make stacks of them on the other side of the room, away from the snow.
“It did. Matt is hopefully going for help. Can you try the landline to see if we can call for help? How do you feel?” When she doesn’t answer me, I pause and turn to look at her. Betty stares at me, her eyes wide behind her still crooked glasses, her pink mouth in a small o shape.
“That was a lot of words,” she finally says. Maybe she hit her head harder than I thought.
“The books will be okay,” I reassure her. Clear my throat to get rid of the grumble that I always get in the cold.
“Not the books. You. You said a lot of words.” Other than her cheeks that are still red with more than just the cold, she seems to be fine. I go back to stacking books and contemplating how to cover the hole so the snow doesn’t continue to come in.
After sliding two bookshelves through the debris and stand them in front of what used to be the window, I make my way back to Betty, who is shivering under her coat and hat. There’s a steady whistling as the wind makes its way through the bookshelves. Snow streaks across the carpet, piling up a bit where the bookshelves meet. Maybe it will pile high enough to block the wind.
“Any luck with the phone?” I ask as I clap my hands together to rid them of dust and walk back to check on her.
She shakes her head no.
“Are you injured?” I kneel before her and take her petite hands in mine. They’re ice cubes.
“No, I don’t think so. Just cold and surprised.” Her eyes shine, even in the barely there light. Deep brown pools full of knowledge. Sniffing, I don’t smell blood.
“What about your back door?” Why didn’t I think of this before? Betty blushes deeper. Coughing, I clear my throat again from the grumble. I jump up and make my way to the emergency exit of the library. It doesn’t open, but the knob turns. Throwing my weight against it, it doesn’t budge.
“Windward side,” Betty’s voice is small behind me. There’s a scent of fear on her that wasn’t there a minute ago.
“What do you mean?”
“The blizzard is coming from the east. This is the east side of the building. The snow is packed against the door and windows on this side.”
“Oh.” I guess that explains the scent of fear. We might be stuck here. “Are there any other exits?” I feel like I know every inch of this building. But I can’t say I’ve actually paid attention to which windows are exits.
Betty shakes her head no, the green pompom on her hat bobbing back and forth. “The building is old, as you know. There’s a very long maintenance list that includes things like installing windows that open, but that is pretty far down on the list. I think the only windows that open are on the east side. The others are painted shut.”
“Fascinating.” Somehow, I knew she was going to say the windows were on the east side. Ironic. “Is the furnace gas, at least?” Or oil. Or wood. Or anything other than electric.
“Electric. I applied for a grant for an energy efficiency upgrade. It works great, except for in blizzards.”
“And when the power is out.”
“That, too.” When she huffs out a breath, I see a cloud. I cringe at how cold it is already.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a surplus of blankets lying around, would you?” It’s a long shot, I know, but I need to get her warm, and fast. Who knows how long it will take someone to get us out of here.
Betty snorts a laugh, and the sound shocks me in the best way. She’s always so professional and put together. Between the snort and her loose hair fallen from her ever-present bun, she seems wilder.
There’s no denying that my main reason for frequenting the library is to see Betty. To hear her kindness when she speaks to patrons. To take in her pear and vanilla scent as if she were mine. Now with her hair wavy around her, I can’t help but think of her and her hair wrapped around me, despite the urgency of our situation.
“Oh, Grev. Of course I don’t. It’s a library, not a hostel. Even if we made our way out of here, my Civic is buried in the snow. Maybe your truck would work, but my guess is it wouldn’t get far, seeing as the town’s one snowplow is now stuck at the library.” Her voice rises in pitch as she speaks, eyes grow wide. She’s reached her limit.
Two steps and I’m in her space, my arms wrap tightly around her. I want to give her all my warmth. “We’re going to hang out and stay warm.” And with that declaration, I scoop her up into my arms and carry her through the library, as if it were our wedding day and the bookshelves were our guests celebrating us.
I take her to the back corner, farthest away from the busted window, and set her gently on her feet. The sun has set, or the storm has grown even more severe, but either way—it’s dark. It’s quieter here, away from the wind whistling its way through the gaps of the temporary shelter I made. Settling myself on the floor, as comfortable as I can be, I sigh at the irony of being trapped with thousands of books and not being able to read any because of the darkness.
Though I can’t see, I can smell Betty. Not only her pear and vanilla, but her slight nervousness and arousal. Focus, Grev, on anything but her scent. Or the feel of her in my arms. Or her closeness. Or the little breathy gasp she made when I picked her up.
I’m completely screwed.
“That was quite a sigh,” Betty says, teeth chattering between each word.
“Come here, we are going to huddle for warmth.” At that statement, she snorts out a laugh again. It takes a few seconds of quiet for her to shuffle over to me. She trips over my foot, landing on top of me with an oof.
“Sorry, I’m not very graceful when I’m frozen and can’t see.”
“Understandable.” I position her sideways on my lap and wrap my arms around her again.
We sit together like that in the dark silence. It’s a comfortable silence, even though the feel and scent of her is driving me crazy.
“Do you think we’ll be here all night?” There’s a slight quiver in her voice.
“Yes,” is all I say, because there’s nothing else to say. It’s dark. The snowplow is stuck and abandoned. We’re safe as we are—I’ll keep her safe.
It takes a while, but she finally relaxes enough to put her head on my shoulder. “That’s a good girl,” I say without thinking, enjoying the weight of her against me and the scent of her tickling my nose.
“Grev, I’ve never heard you say this many words. Ever. And I’ve been working here a year. Now I’m sitting in your lap and you’re calling me a good girl. I don’t even know what to think.” She huffs half a laugh, but her head stays where it is, against my chest. I will my heart to stay steady.
“Betty, you’re the reason I love books. You’re the sun to my moody gray sky. I come to the library because of you. To be in the same room as you.”
“I’ve read a lot of romances in my day. Those are kissing words.”
And with that, she kisses me, her cold lips sizzle on my warm lips. So soft despite the cold. Her fingers grip at the sides of my shirt, holding us together as her mouth opens ever so slightly, letting me inhale her even more.
This is what I dream about at night. Not being stranded in a freezing library. But Betty. Being with Betty. With her as absorbed with me as I am with her. The entire world shut out, only us revolving around each other like stars in orbit.
When her tongue darts into my mouth, tentative and bold at the same time, fireworks erupt in my brain. A moan comes out of me and my hands grip her side and hip through her many layers of clothes, pulling her into me. She tastes like summer sunshine.
“Grev, I want this. Want you. Tell me you do, too.” Her voice rasps in the most delightful way.
“I’ve always wanted you.”
And those words are the key. Betty pulls away just enough to turn and straddle me, her thighs splayed wide around me. Then she attacks me again with another kiss. Her chest pressed against mine. Heart to heart. This time, all bold. Deep and passionate.