A Troll in the Hay (Harmony Glen #12)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Dear reader,

Your enjoyment of this story and your emotional well-being are important to me.

Though this is a light, fluffy, sweet-and-spicy romance snack, it does contain content that may be difficult for some.

Please check the Content Notes page inside this book, or view them on my website, if you have any triggers. (Content notes include spoilers.)

OGRAM

“We don’t see you in here often,” Mrs. Mitchell says as I ring up her purchases on the market’s cash register. “Getting to work indoors must be a nice change from being out in the fields.”

With painstaking care, I tap in the last of her items. None of my employees who work in the market store have ever complained about the cash register’s buttons being too small, but like many things in the human-dominated world, this equipment wasn’t designed for use by someone my size.

With my thick fingers, it’s a miracle I’m even able to tap a single key, let alone with any accuracy.

Being temporarily short an employee, I don’t have much choice.

But it’s not the nice change my well-meaning, gray-haired human customer suggested.

I’m a troll. A creature of nature. Being outside among the earth and plants has always been my peace, my comfort.

I’d be happy to leave the store duties to my employees indefinitely.

But that’s not what she wants to hear, and despite preferring solitude to socializing, I never want to be impolite to anyone.

“Spending time in the store is an opportunity to say hello to the many fine people who honor me by shopping here.” I finish with the expression I’ve practiced in front of a mirror to soften the effect my large tusks can have on a smile.

I gather the squash, zucchini, onions, greens and apples into her cloth shopping bags while Mrs. Mitchell places her cash on the counter, all of it coins, stacked in tidy piles.

She’s the fifth person to pay by cash today.

Cash means I don’t have to fiddle with the even tinier buttons on the electronic payment terminal, but it also means I’ll have to go downtown to the bank, and during business hours, no less, since her contribution to the cash deposit is akin to a leprechaun’s bag of treasure.

Downtown has a lot more people than the customers at my market store, even on its busiest day.

The thought of all the required face-to-face interaction sends a shiver down my spine.

Mrs. Mitchell snaps her coin purse closed and smiles at me.

“Well, I hope you’ll take this opportunity among people to do more than say hello.

A fellow like you should have someone special waiting after a long day’s work, not go home to an empty farmhouse.

You know, I could bring my granddaughter by for you to meet.

Gertrude would make a wonderful wife for someone like you. ”

As much as the humans of Harmony Glen have welcomed other species with open arms since the Great Revelation, I doubt her “someone like you” means a keeps-to-himself, hardworking farmer.

More likely: a big, brutish-looking, borderline-reclusive monster with zero romantic prospects but above-adequate financial resources.

Someone who’d be grateful for any match.

Regardless of her motivation, she’s open-minded enough to suggest a union between our species, and that’s not small potatoes.

“I’m honored you’d consider introducing me to your granddaughter, but I must decline.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Mitchell’s eyebrows shoot upward, chasing the lines of her forehead beneath a row of tight silver curls held snugly in place by a bright-purple hair scarf. “I hadn’t heard any whispers around town that you’d become romantically attached to someone. Who is it?”

There’s no one, but I should lie and say there is.

I’d rather not tell her the reason I declined has nothing to do with being involved with someone else, and everything to do with the size of my cock.

Physical intimacy with other species isn’t impossible, but taking my girth would be a challenge for a human woman, requiring preparation many would find…

objectionable. Especially for a single, casual instance of gratification, which is all I could offer anyone who is not my mate.

Mrs. Mitchell must take my hesitation to provide a name as an unspoken confirmation that I’m still romantically unattached, because her eyebrows return to their normal position and a smile crests her lips.

“Will you be in the store for the rest of the afternoon? I’ll fetch my sweet Gertie and come back at closing time so you won’t be interrupted by customers.

She’s quiet, much in the way you are, and very innocent.

I’m sure you’ll be immediately smitten.”

My jaw clenches so tightly I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Mitchell can hear my back teeth grinding.

If she knew anything about troll mating urges, she wouldn’t want me to be immediately smitten with her sweet, innocent granddaughter.

Luckily for Gertrude, I’m sure that won’t happen.

I’ve met many human women since Harmony Glen welcomed monsters to integrate in the community, and I’ve never experienced even a twinge of desire toward any.

With few female trolls residing in the area and none of them sparking something inside me, it’s likely I’ll spend my life alone. Many trolls do. As much as I’d like to find a mate—solitude, safety, and working the land make a good life.

“I’m sure anyone would be lucky to be married to your granddaughter, but I spend most of my waking hours working on the farm, so I wouldn’t be the husband your granddaughter deserves.

But if she’s looking for a part-time job, I’m still searching for someone to take this spot in the market store, so I can get back to the fields full time. ”

Given the way Mrs. Mitchell’s mouth thins to a downward curve, I’d guess she doesn’t care for what I thought to be a respectful and tactful answer.

“She needs a husband, not an employer. Good day to you, Ogram,” she says, turning away with her chin tilted high, nearly bumping an incoming customer while huffing a dramatic exit.

I don’t owe an apology to the woman who quickly skips sideways to avoid being jostled by the obviously disgruntled matchmaker.

Even if I wanted to be courteous and call out a friendly, “Sorry about that,” I can’t, because my mouth goes dry and my insides grow tight and hot and electrified when my gaze connects with the human’s as she moves deeper into the store.

She’s beautiful. The loveliest creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. Fair skin with a rosy tint, long hair that looks like dark-brown silk, and hourglass curves. The sunlight streaming through the open roll-up door behind her gives her an angelic glow.

Moving around the tables of produce, she doesn’t stop to look at any of it.

Not a single glance, even as she scoops a small basket of apples from one of the tables she passes.

Her focus remains on me, drifting from my eyes to my tall, pointed ears poking through my shaggy, shoulder-length hair, to the long tusks protruding from my lower gums that reach nearly to my cheekbones.

My most monstrous features. That she can see, anyway.

The other monstrous part of me is thick and hard against my left thigh, threatening to break the inner seam of my work pants. I’ve never had this kind of physical reaction to a human.

And it’s not just my cock responding. Every step she takes toward me amplifies the tingling sensation running rampant through my body. My heart thumps so wildly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she can see it pounding against my green skin in the V where my shirt is unbuttoned.

As long as she doesn’t see the bulge filling out my pant leg.

Which she won’t because I’m essentially frozen in place behind the counter.

Like a deer trapped in the headlights. Only it’s not a collision and death that’s imminent, it feels like the opposite.

As if I’m waking up fully for the first time, or seeing a whole range of colors I didn’t know existed until this moment.

“Hi,” she says, placing the basket, then both palms, on the smooth wood countertop separating us. Her hands are so much smaller than mine. Her fingers, so delicate.

“Just the apples today?” Miraculously, my voice works. And my brain, enough to form that simple yet coherent question.

“I apologize for staring.” The apple question goes unanswered as she blinks up at me.

A gentle head shake causes her hair to move like dark waves against the pale shores of her bare shoulders.

“I’m visiting town, and where I’m from, there’s been very little integration since the Great Revelation.

You’re the first orc I’ve ever seen in person. ”

Trolls generally bristle at being mistaken for orcs. This woman could mistake me for a sentient cactus and I wouldn’t get prickly. Still, I’d be a negligent representative of nonhumans if I didn’t educate her about the different species.

“Welcome to Harmony Glen,” I say with a nod and one of my carefully practiced smiles. “I’m not at all bothered by your attention, so please, stare all you like. One detail though—I’m a troll, not an orc.”

An adorable squeak leaves her lips before her hands fly up to cover her face. “I’m sorry! You must think I’m the dumbest, most oblivious human ever.” The mumbled words are easy to distinguish, even from behind her self-imposed muzzle.

She doesn’t know that trolls have excellent hearing, and I’m not about to tell her. Not yet.

“Could you say that again, but without the…” I make a sweep-away motion toward my own mouth.

She drops her hands from their screening position, revealing cheeks I’d very much like to reach across and touch, to see if their increased shade of pink is just a pretty color, or if the tint has affected the temperature of her skin.

“I’m so sorry for assuming. It’s just that you’re very big, and you’re green, and you have those protruding bottom teeth.

” Again, she shakes her head. “I’ve seen a lot of media coverage about orcs since the beginning of multispecies integration, but I don’t recall seeing anything about trolls, and in my mind, trolls are small and—” Her lips snap closed, her complexion developing an even deeper blush.

When she doesn’t finish the abruptly cut-off sentence, I motion for her to continue. “Small and…”

Something between a sigh and an agonized groan leaves her lips as she looks up at me through long, dark eyelashes.

“Creepy and ugly—and before you think the worst of me, which I don’t blame you for—I want you to know that I think the worst of me right now.

I feel horrible about having unflattering preconceived notions about any species.

Especially yours, after meeting you. You’re the opposite of all those things I so wrongly assumed. ”

Even if I wasn’t unexpectedly and utterly attracted to her, I’d find her earnestness charming.

“Yes, I’m definitely the opposite of small,” I say, addressing the only point it’s reasonable to believe she meant genuinely.

“Don’t be hard on yourself for the assumptions.

Trolls are generally quite solitary in nature, and our preference to avoid public and social gatherings means there isn’t a lot of accurate information about us available, even since integration with human communities. ”

“You’re very kind, forgiving me so easily.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You made a minor, honest mistake; don’t give it another thought.

Now that that’s out of the way, if you have any questions about trolls or Harmony Glen, please feel free to ask.

I’m happy to help you any way I can.” Though my customer probably doesn’t consider this a personal conversation, I’d like it to be.

I don’t want the interaction to end. I don’t want her to turn around and walk out of the market. Out of my life.

Placing her hands on the counter again, she slides them toward my side. An innocent action that causes my already indecent reaction to her to expand. Then she leans in, essentially putting her breasts on the countertop.

Towering over as I do, I have a clear view down the neckline front of her formfitting summer dress, and my gaze is drawn to the deep valley between her smooth, rounded breasts.

My cock throbs against my leg, and a trickle of precum slides down my skin.

I can’t recall the last time I took myself in hand for a release, but I know when the next time will be—as soon as the farmhouse door is closed behind me tonight.

And I’ll be picturing this beautiful human with every stroke and spurt.

“Okay, I have a question,” she says, smiling when my gaze snaps from her breasts to her waiting eyes. Green, a shade much like my skin. They’re also glittering, and since there’s no sunlight directly shining on this part of the store, the sparkle must be coming from within.

“Of course. Ask me anything.”

“Was your offer of help just generic politeness that you hope I don’t take you up on? You know, given what you said about being antisocial.” For a human woman who has no experience with trolls, and comes from somewhere without much monster integration, she’s incredibly forward and fearless.

“Any offer I make to you is sincere.”

Delicate dark eyebrows rise over her dazzling green eyes. Did she take note of my carefully worded to you? Was my desperation for her to accept obvious?

Her lips part as if to respond, but anything she might’ve said is interrupted by voices and laughter as a family with several young children enters, pulling a wagon laden with baskets from the pick-your-own fields.

“Hi, Mr. Ogram!” one of the littles calls out, waving a long carrot with its top intact while running toward me. “Look what I picked!”

The dark-haired beauty eases back from the counter. “I’ll get out of your way, Mr. Ogram.”

“Just Ogram,” I say as she moves aside to make space for the incoming miniature tornado. “And you’re not in the way. I’ll just be a few minutes taking care of these folks, then I’m all yours if you’d like to take me up on that offer.”

The smile she gives me nearly buckles my knees. “I absolutely do. I’m Hope, by the way.”

Hope. She couldn’t have a more perfect name.