Talk Orcy To Me

Chapter 1

TRINITY

I'm piping buttercream roses onto a wedding cake when Maya bursts through the bakery door like she's delivering breaking news from the front lines of celebrity gossip.

"Trinity Lewis, drop that pastry bag and listen to me."

"Good morning to you too." I don't look up from my work. Twenty-four roses to go, and Mrs. Henderson's picking this up in three hours. "Coffee's fresh if you want some."

"Forget coffee. This is bigger than caffeine." Maya slams her phone down on the counter next to my cake stand. "They're casting."

"Who's casting what?"

"Heart of the Horde. Season six. Applications open today."

My hand slips. The rose I'm piping looks more like abstract art than flora. "The dating show? With the orc guy?"

"The dating show. The one that made Brittany Barbos a household name after she opened that restaurant chain. The one that turned Mack Dennis into the face of that athletic wear company." Maya's practically vibrating with excitement. "This could be your shot."

I set down the piping bag and really look at her. She's wearing her lucky earrings, the tiny cupcakes that dangle when she gets animated, and that particular shade of coral lipstick she reserves for what she calls "life-changing conversations."

Oh no.

"Maya, no."

"Maya, yes." She grabs my flour-dusted hands. "Think about it. You're gorgeous, you're witty, you can bake circles around anyone—"

"I'm also completely broke and running a failing business in a town where the most exciting thing that happened last week was Mrs. Patterson's cat getting stuck in the library book drop."

"Exactly!" She gestures wildly, nearly knocking over my sugar dispenser. "You're perfect for reality TV. Small-town girl with big dreams? Relatable backstory? Plus you've got that whole sarcastic-but-sweet thing going on."

I rescue the sugar before it becomes a casualty of Maya's enthusiasm. "The whole sarcastic-but-sweet thing is called 'my personality,' not a television persona."

"Same difference." She's already scrolling through her phone. "Look at this casting call. They want women aged twenty-one to thirty-five who are 'ready to find love and adventure with Korgan the Destroyer.'"

"Korgan the Destroyer sounds like someone who'd destroy my will to live."

"He's actually really sweet. Quiet type. Runs a nonprofit for military veterans." Maya shows me a photo on her screen.

I look at it and immediately wish I hadn't. Because Korgan the Destroyer is... well. Let's just say he doesn't look like he'd struggle to find dates without the help of reality television producers.

"He looks like he could bench press a car."

"I know, right? Imagine those arms wrapped around—"

"Maya." I pick up my piping bag again. "I'm not going on a dating show."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a serious businesswoman trying to save her bakery, not a wannabe influencer looking for fifteen minutes of fame."

Maya gives me the look. The one that says she sees right through my reasonable excuses to the scared twenty-six-year-old underneath who still wakes up some nights in a cold sweat about loan payments and eviction notices.

"Trinity. When's the last time you went on a date?"

"I went out with Jake Morrison last month."

"Coffee doesn't count if you spent the entire time talking about commercial oven financing."

Fair point. "I was trying to be practical."

"Practical is overrated. You know what's not overrated? National television exposure for your bakery. Think about it, every time they show your hometown, every time they mention your business, that's free advertising. The kind of advertising you can't afford to buy."

She's not wrong. My marketing budget consists of whatever I can squeeze out of my personal Instagram account and the occasional food blog review. Last month's electric bill took the last of my advertising funds.

"The application deadline is tomorrow," Maya continues. "One video. That's it. What's the worst that could happen?"

Famous last words.

But I'm already picturing it. Camera crews in Millbrook. Food Network mentions. Maybe even a cookbook deal if things go really well. The kind of success that could turn Trinity's Table from a struggling local bakery into something bigger. Something stable.

Something that wouldn't require me to stare at overdue notices every morning while I drink my coffee.

"Fine." The word escapes before I can stop it. "One video. But if this ruins my reputation, I'm blaming you."

Maya squeals and throws her arms around me, nearly toppling us both into the wedding cake.

"This is going to be amazing! We need to plan your outfit, practice your talking points—"

"I'm not making talking points. It's a dating show, not a business presentation."

"Everything is a business presentation if you're smart about it."

This is why Maya handles my social media.

Three hours later, I'm standing in my apartment living room wearing my best sweater, the navy blue one that brings out my eyes, according to Maya, and staring at her phone propped up on my coffee table like it's a venomous snake.

"Just be yourself," Maya says from behind the camera. "But like, the version of yourself that gets guys to propose after three dates."

"I've never had a guy propose after three dates."

"That's because you've never tried. Now, introduce yourself and tell them why you'd be perfect for Korgan."

I take a deep breath. The red recording light blinks at me expectantly.

"Hi, I'm Trinity Lewis. I'm twenty-six, I live in Millbrook, Maine, and I own a bakery called Trinity's Table."

Pause. This feels deeply unnatural.

"I'm here because..." Because my best friend ambushed me into this? "Because I believe in taking chances. And also because I make really good cinnamon rolls."

Maya makes encouraging gestures from behind the phone.

"Um. I think Korgan and I would be a good match because we're both.

.. hardworking? And I'm told I'm funny, though probably not in the way that translates well to television.

" I fidget with my hands. "I should mention that I'm not really looking for drama.

I'm more of a 'let's have a nice dinner and talk about books' kind of person, which I realize might not make for compelling viewing, but—"

"Cut!" Maya throws her hands up. "Trinity, you sound like you're applying for a library card, not competing for a man's heart."

"I told you this was a bad idea."

"It's not a bad idea, you're just overthinking it. Let's try again. This time, more confidence. More romance."

"I don't do romance. I do baked goods and sarcasm."

"Then lead with the baked goods! Food is romantic. Feeding someone is intimate."

She has a point. Food is my language. The way I show love, express creativity, make people happy. If I'm going to do this ridiculous thing, I might as well do it honestly.

"Okay. Take two."

Maya hits record again.

"Hi, I'm Trinity Lewis, and I'm the owner and head baker at Trinity's Table in Millbrook, Maine.

" Better start. More confident. "I've been baking since I was twelve, when my grandmother taught me that the secret ingredient in everything is paying attention.

To the details. To the timing. To the person you're feeding. "

I'm warming up now, finding my rhythm.

"I think the way to someone's heart really is through their stomach, but not in some generic 'food equals love' way.

It's about learning what makes them happy.

Do they like their coffee black or sweet?

Do they prefer chocolate or vanilla? Are they adventurous enough to try something new, or do they need the comfort of familiar flavors? "

Maya's grinning behind the camera, making little 'keep going' motions.

"Korgan seems like someone who appreciates honesty and hard work. I can't promise I'll be the most glamorous contestant, but I can promise I'll be genuine. And if he's ever having a bad day, I make a mean apple pie that fixes most problems."

I pause, then add with a smile, "Plus, I've seen the show. Half these women are going to spend their time fighting with each other instead of getting to know him. I'd rather spend my time figuring out his favorite cookie."

"And... scene!" Maya stops recording and immediately starts replaying the video. "That was perfect! You were natural, charming, confident—"

"I mentioned cookies in a dating show audition."

"You mentioned understanding people through food, which is romantic as hell. Trust me, this is going to work."

She's already uploading the video to the casting portal, typing in my information with the speed of someone who's done this professionally.

Which, in fairness, she basically has. Maya's been managing social media for local businesses since college, and she treats every post like it's a campaign for world domination.

"Done!" She hits submit with a flourish. "Trinity Lewis is officially in the running to become the next Mrs. Korgan the Destroyer."

"That's not how it works. They pick one winner, not—"

"Details." Maya waves dismissively. "The important thing is you're putting yourself out there. Taking a chance. Being brave."

Brave. Right. Because nothing says brave like potentially embarrassing yourself on national television for the slim chance of saving your business.

But as I watch Maya delete the first, awkward video from her phone, I have to admit there's something liberating about the whole thing. For once, I'm not calculating costs or weighing practical outcomes. I'm just... hoping.

Even if it's completely ridiculous hope.

"How long before we hear back?" I ask.

"Could be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. These shows move fast when they want to, but they also get thousands of applications."

Thousands. Right. The chances of them even watching my video, let alone selecting me, are basically nonexistent. Which should be reassuring, except there's a tiny part of me that's already wondering what I'd pack if they said yes.