Fake Dating an Orc Cowboy (Sweet Monster Treats)

1. Rosey

Chapter 1

Rosey

“ A re you sitting on a mirror?” the greasy-haired guy who would not leave me alone asked. Dressed in tight black pants and a sleeveless t-shirt with Wanna Ride my Rod? emblazoned on the front, he was anything but date material. He’d sidled over to me the moment I took a stool at the bar. “Because I can see myself in your pants.”

Yuck. “Go away.” I sipped my wine and contemplated leaving, but I’d just gotten here, and it was lonely in my apartment by myself. Mom and Dad would see—again—that I was dateless on a Saturday night, and Mom would dole out sympathy hugs first thing tomorrow morning.

Thus was the life of the recently rejected.

“Come on, sugar,” the guy whined. “You know you want to give me a chance.”

“Leave me alone.” I didn’t look at him, didn’t like that I had to respond. He was worse than a cluster fly, zipping in to land on my arm. I kept verbally swatting him away, but he was getting close to feeling a physical taste of my anger. I’d taken self-defense classes. I wasn’t afraid to use what I’d learned.

“Now, sugar, don’t be like that.” He snickered. “Your clothes look too tight. Why don’t you take them all off?”

“Go!”

The bartender frowned at me. Not at the asshole who wouldn’t leave me alone. But wasn’t that the way things always went in life?

“Just look at me.” The guy lowered his voice. “Give me a pretty smile.”

“She said she doesn’t wish to speak with you,” someone growled from nearby. “If you don’t back away from her, I’ll show you why you should.”

“Whoa.” The guy lifted his hands, his eyes widened as he looked up, up, up at the enormous orc cowboy who’d left his spot farther down the bar and approached us. “Sure thing. She yours?”

I’d seen a few orcs since they emerged from caverns below the ground. I’d yet to see an orc wearing a cowboy hat, chaps outlining his thick thighs, plus an open leather vest over his blue and green patterned flannel shirt, however.

“She belongs to herself,” the orc snarled, stomping over to nudge himself between me and the jerk. “You have three seconds to leave, or you’ll feel this.” He lifted his meaty fist. “One . . .”

“But she—”

“Two.” The orc’s face darkened with fury.

“No problem, dude.” The guy spun and bolted across the bar, slamming through the front door that banged closed behind him.

“Thank you,” I said, hoping I wasn’t scooting out of the lion’s den only to find myself in the dragon’s lair.

“If it’s alright with you, I’ll sit beside you until we’re sure he doesn’t come back,” the orc said in a gruff, almost hesitant voice.

I shrugged, waiting to see how this guy would act.

He settled on the oversized bar stool provided for guys like him and stared forward, ignoring me, which was both a good and a bad thing because he was cute. Funny how a woman’s perspective about conversation with a guy in a bar changed depending on how he behaved.

The bartender sidled down to me and laid the fries I’d ordered on the smooth counter. “Here you go.” Turning, he strode over to the tap to pour someone a beer.

“Have a fry if you want,” I offered the orc, dousing them with salt and squirting a large pool of ketchup into the basket beside them.

“Fly?” The orc stared at them. “You eat insects?”

“ Fry , as in French fries, though they’re not French.”

He blinked at me.

“They’re made from a vegetable called a potato. They cut them into strips and deep fry them in oil. They’re good.” I shot him a shy smile. “I promise.”

“If you promise,” his words rumbled in his muscular chest, “then I’ll believe you.” He tentatively lifted one and bit into it, sans ketchup, but maybe ketchup wasn’t a thing in the orc kingdom.

Not long ago, orcs emerged from deep below the Earth’s surface. Unknown to us, they’d lived forever in a city built inside an enormous, cavernous valley they called the orc kingdom. An orc explorer had gone on an adventure and found his way to the surface, where he met a few humans. Perhaps that’s where the yeti rumors came from. Orcs were tall, most over seven feet, very muscular, and they had medium green skin. They came in peace, and they wanted to live among us, and what could be better than that?

The orc king’s emissaries formed a treaty with our governments, and orcs joined humans all over the world. They bought property, set up businesses, and they interacted with humans on all levels.

I hadn’t met many orcs, but those I had were exceedingly polite and kind.

Like this one.

After swallowing, he spun toward me and gave me an adorable, tusk-filled grin. “This fly is amazing.”

My face hurt from my smile. “ Fry. Flies . . . well, some people probably eat them, but not me.”

“Fry.” He garbled the word, and that only endeared him to me more.

He really was handsome. I slid my gaze down his bulky frame, taking in his lightly haired forearms where he’d rolled up his sleeves, his thick thighs outlined by the leather chaps. His waistline narrowed in nicely, and from what I could tell so far, he was a decent, good guy. What more could a woman ask for?

“Have another fry,” I said. “And dip it in the ketchup.”

Leaning forward, he scowled at the red puddle. “Is that blood?”

It was all I could do not to snort with laughter. “Nope. It’s crushed tomatoes, another vegetable. Ketchup is one of the seven wonders of the world. You’ll like it. I promise.”

His scowl didn’t fade as he tapped a fry into the shiny red surface. Popping it into his mouth, he chewed, his thumb-sized tusks working across his upper lip. Like our wisdom teeth, they must be an evolutionary hold-out. What had orcs eaten in the past to need teeth like that?

“By the fates,” he breathed, gaping at the rest of the fries. “This vegetable blood is amazing.”

Incredibly cute.

My phone buzzed with an incoming text, and my smile faded, because I could guess who wanted to chat.

Normally, I was happy to speak with my sister. We’d grown up close and nothing other than a guy named Jacob could drive us apart. Jacob being my ex-boyfriend—and her fiancé.

Might as well get it over with. I scrolled into my phone while the orc cowboy shifted in his chair and moaned while eating fries as if he was about to . . .

Hold on there, Rosey. He was handsome and my knight in green armor, but I didn’t pick up guys in bars.

Yet, my girly parts shouted, yet!

Just coordinating the final details for my CANCUN! WEDDING! to Jacob, my sister, Macy, who adored exclamation points, texted. Do you want a single room or are you going to share with Janie?

Did I have to go?

Actually, yes, I did. I was the maid of honor.

Oh, um, let me see, I replied. By the way, I CAN’T wait for your wedding!! I needed to lay off the exclamation points, but they were the only thing carrying me through this mortifying time in my life.

Sure, her fiancé, Jacob, and I had only gone out a few times before his gaze landed on Macy and it was over for me. But that didn’t mean my heart hadn’t felt the burn. I hadn’t loved him. Who could love a guy who took one look at your younger sister and ditched you within ten minutes?

But the thought of attending their wedding made me cringe.

I can’t do this without you beside me! Macy messaged. I was happy for her, because she and Jacob were totally in love, but still. The resort needs to know how many rooms we’ll need and the guest makeup of each one. Janie or a room by yourself? Please don’t worry about coming alone. One of Jacob’s friends is single, and I’ll ask him to dance with you at the reception.

Please, no.

Janie was one of her bridesmaids. As my sister’s maid of honor, I was feeling anything but honored to attend her wedding to the guy I’d started to care about.

I only wanted the best in life for my little sis. Him? Not so much, though it wasn’t his fault either. I’d wanted to find chemistry between us, but that didn’t mean I had.

He’d found it with her instead.

Imagine the torture of attending my sister’s wedding to my now-ex boyfriend without a date. I’d wince my way through the wedding and mope on the beach after with a tropical drink or two or three while she and her new husband celebrated their nuptials in every imaginable way possible.

I’ve got a date, so I’ll need my own room, I texted on the spur of the moment.

Now why had I said that? I wasn’t dating anyone and none of my guy friends were single.

What, what, what?! You’re seeing someone? my sister texted. Share! I could almost see her pout. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were dating a new guy.

Damn, why had I told her that? Now I was in a bind.

The orc cowboy extended his hand. “I’m Ostor Bronish.” His lightly accented voice tickled across my bones. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for introducing me to fries and vegetable blood, which I know is not blood, though it looks as if it is.”

“I’m Rosey Trent.” I placed my hand in his, admiring how small I was compared to this big, brawny cowboy. At five-seven, I’d never felt petite.

Sparks traveled up my arm, and I blinked at my skin, expecting it to be glowing or something.

Ostor gave me a stunned look before he slid off the stool and slammed onto his knees beside me. He flipped my hand over and proceeded to lick up the center of my palm and onto my wrist that burned as if I’d gotten stung by a bee.

He took my phone from my other hand and laid it on the counter, and then repeated the gesture, licking from my second palm to my wrist, sending tingles through my body that dove down to light up parts between my legs that hadn’t seen action in so long, I couldn’t remember when.

Looking up at me, his crooked smile grew even bigger.

My heart tumbled off a cliff, soaring down the other side.

Talk about a weird and unsettling encounter. I should nudge him away. Like, who licks a stranger’s hands? Sure, it had felt good, but it was a very odd way of introducing yourself to a woman.

Besides, um, bee sting? Although, his lick had made the pain fade to nothing.

Despite how odd this situation was and the fact that I’d never been a one-night stand kind of girl, I was seriously reconsidering changing that policy with this orc.

“Are you single, Ostor?” I croaked, unsure what was happening between us, but determined to find out. They said when you met “the one,” you knew. Was that what this feeling was all about?

His brow scrunched together. “I am the only one of me.”

“I meant are you married or with someone?”

“Oh, no. I am not.” His low husky voice could’ve lit my panties aflame.

“You wouldn’t happen to be free next Thursday through Sunday, would you?” I asked.

“I am. The sorhox cattle can wait.”

Sorhox cattle?

A frown scrunched his thick brow ridge, and his eyes darkened, a challenging thing since they were nearly as black as his thick hair dusting his broad shoulders. He lumbered to his feet, looming over me while shooting glares at everyone around us. Finally, his eyes locked on me again. “Tell me what you need, tiny one, and it’s yours.”

Oh, how my imagination went wild at that statement.

I held up my phone. “Let me send a quick text, and then you and I need to talk.”

He nodded, his face solemn. “I await your command, tiny one.”

Oh-la-la.

I texted my sister. My date’s name is Ostor.