Chapter Ten Ingrid
Kev: You’re late. I’m starting in on that roast without you, God as my witness. Watch this.
I’ve just pulled up, and I’m deliberately wearing baggy jeans and a plain black shirt. Acquaintance Ingrid is here, dressed in casual clothes that indicate my level of interest and effort. Datable Ingrid is not here. Kissable Ingrid is not on the menu.
I sit in the car and hit the link Kev sent. It better not be a video of Kev munching in my face.
A tousled, grave-looking King is speaking into the camera. Nothing can change the beauty of his features, even if I don’t want them for myself.
“Hi. Thank you all so much. The love and support that people have shown since I’ve been injured is incredible.
I just... I just want you to do something for me.
See, Pine Ridge is the best community in the world, and Lumberjacks fans are amazing—with a few little lapses of judgment here and there.
I’m taken care of. But can you do me a favor?
Go give some love to someone else who’s struggling.
Someone who doesn’t have their own team.
Be someone’s team today, okay? Oh—but I still expect to see your butts in the seats at every game.
I know I’ll be there, even on crutches. I’ll be the guy screaming loudest on the bench. ”
Stab me in the tear ducts, why don’t you?
I don’t know why that moves me so much, but it does.
I hurry out of the car, taking deep breaths, blinking away any tears before they fall.
Had a team once. I thought I’d always be part of the Navy community. And then it left me. I left it. And then I thought I’d have my family around me... And we get along.
But I’m alone.
I like being alone. Me and the dogs. It’s all good. It’s all good.
But that was sweet of King. And the comments scrolling across the screen as I watched were sweet, too. People promising to show up for those in need. People promising to go to games.
Whatever. People behind a screen can say anything they want. We’ll see what people do.
More importantly, we’ll see what King does.
Not that I care.
“Ingrid! Hi! I’m so glad you could come. And I’m glad you got here when you did. Kev is about to haul off and eat, with or without you.”
“Was not!” Kevin lies, sticking his tongue out at me.
“I have evidence,” I say, sticking my tongue out in return.
“May I take your bag?” King asks.
“Oh. Sure.” I pass him my way-too-large tan shoulder bag, and he hangs it on an old-fashioned coatstand. As he does, he lowers his head and whispers, “You look stunning.”
“I’m in jeans and a t-shirt.” I stare up at him, trying to find proof of what I believe. That he’s just doing this for... I don’t know what.
He could have his pick of women. One literally showed up on his doorstep this morning. Why would he want me?
“The clothes are on you. You look gorgeous. I’d think you were gorgeous in anything or nothing.”
A bolt of heat lands in my center, and its twin finds its way to King’s dark lime cheeks, making them an even darker shade of green. I guess that’s the Orc equivalent of blushing.
“Please come sit. You should be off your leg, King. Ingrid, Kevin is apparently starving and ready to eat this second.” Marina comes over and ushers us to the dining room.
Next to her, I feel very underdressed. She looks like a cross between a goddess and a model from Vogue. It takes a special kind of confidence to wear a clinging white sweater dress and stilettos to a random weeknight dinner party.
For the first time, I notice that her smile is just a shade too wide for her face, and her teeth come to triangular points that slot together.
Like a sexy little shark.
I gulp. “Hi, Marina. Nice to see you.” I let her pull me in for a hug.
“Don’t worry. We’ll leave right after dessert so you two can have some time alone,” she whispers.
“I don’t need any time alone with him,” I hiss back.
Marina arches her eyebrows and cocks her head. “Oh. I forget. Human noses.”
“What? What’s that mean?” I take a discreet sniff of my shoulder.
“You smell fine. In fact, to King, you smell like a banquet. I will be full just from sitting near you two,” Marina chuckles.
I’m not sure what she means, and I don’t want to know. I just want to sit and eat, and maybe look at King while he’s looking at me like I’m everything he’s ever wanted.
Dinner is wonderful. Kev asks a ton of questions about hunting and Orc culture.
I ask a ton of questions about Scotland, which is on my bucket list of places to visit.
King gets to talk a lot, which I would have figured He’d have liked.
.. But instead, he wants to know all about me.
Where I’ve been on my travels. Where would I ten out of ten recommend?
Where would I go tonight if I had a plane ticket to anywhere?
Where would I avoid like the plague? Marina talks about living in Siberia when she was first.. . made. Not born.
This whole having friends who are supernatural beings is going to take some getting used to.
I talk about my dogs.
Kev and Marina talk about their new cat. Marina talks about Kev being a great father at least three times, and as I examine her skintight dress for a hint of a baby bulge, I notice King has started staring, too.
It’s probably the excellent wine, the ginormous amount of delicious food, and the warm, surprisingly relaxed atmosphere that turns off my brain. “Wait! You’re not a human! Can you get pregnant?” I demand.
Ooh. That didn’t come out the way I meant. I meant she’s a demon—and I... Yeah, I thought demons came with fire, brimstone, horns, and a pointy tail. Marina’s married to a human, and she’s pale, beautiful, hornless, and sitting across from me, licking custard off a spoon.
King puts his wine glass down.
Kev looks at me like I just kicked a dog turd onto the table.
Marina is the only one who is unfazed. “Not ordinarily, but Kev is the keeper of my soul. My literal soul mate. I can only have his babies. And we think they’ll all be daughters, because all rusalkas are female.”
“Ah.”
“You were probably thinking in a broader context. Can humans and non-human partners have babies?”
“Uh. Yes.” No.
Maybe?
“Absolutely! Let’s see, Milo and Libby just had the cutest little boy—minotaur and human couple.
And Georgia and Georgie Fenclan, their mom is a human, and their father is an Orc.
So Orcs and humans are very compatible—provided you’ve had knotting tea.
I’m sure King has some. If not, Madge will have some in the shop. ”
“Knotting tea?” What kind of tea is that?
“Honey. I just remembered. I didn’t feed the cat. We have to go. We have to go right now.” Kev rises, takes Marina by the shoulders, and practically lifts her out of the chair.
“But—But King will need help with the dishes! He cannot possibly do all these dishes hopping on one leg,” Marina protests, looking faintly confused.
“Ingrid will help with the dishes. Come on. Sorry, guys. Cat goes destructo-mode if you don’t feed him soon enough.” Kev blows kisses like a Hollywood starlet boarding a private jet and whisks Marina out before King can even get out of his seat.
I turn back to him as the door shuts. “What the actual...?”
He groans and covers his face with his hands. “Knotting tea. It makes Orcs and smaller partners fit together, because Orcs have big—uh—equipment. And we have um... knots.”
“Knots?” I blink and try to figure out where I’ve heard that before.
He looks up briefly. “It’s a slang term for extra erectile tissue at the base of the—”
“I get it!” I squeak, sounding completely rattled, and not at all like the calm, mature woman with a nursing background that I am.
King sighs. “Lots of things have a bulbus glandis. Werewolves, wolf shifters, Orcs, trolls—”
“Sorry, sorry. I... Oh, jeez. So Marina just blurted that out? Wow.”
“I think it’s because sex equals food to her.”
“Come again?” Oh, God. Smother me with a pillow. That totally didn’t have a double entendre.
“I mean, rusalkas need to feed off of living energy to survive. They can either take someone’s life energy by killing them, or they can ingest sexual energy to survive.
Marina is reformed. No killing. Lots of sex.
With Kevin! Just Kevin,” he hastens to reply, eyes wide, cheeks as green as a pine tree.
“So, we talk about food super easily, no shame. She talks about sex the same way. Probably. Or it could be the two glasses of wine.”
“Could be the wine,” I stumble over the words.
“You don’t have to do the dishes. You probably have to get home to your dogs.”
“I think they’ll be okay for a little bit,” I say, even though I should have taken the out by now.
“I’d like to meet them sometime.”
“Oh. You will tomorrow. I’m bringing them in to work with me after lunch, and they’re going to Hilltop Home with Mrs. Yerkchenko and me.
A lot of the seniors are lonely and don’t have much family or any pets.
It’s not that they’re not allowed to. Mrs. Yerkchenko has her cats.
But a lot of the other folks don’t. What with not being able to get around well, or being on a fixed income and not being able to afford pet food and vet visits.
..” I shake my head. “Chip and Daisy are amazing—except in thunderstorms. Then, they’re basketcases.
Uh. I’m rambling. Anyway, they’ll be with me tomorrow at the office for a couple of hours, so you’ll meet them. ”
King nods. He looks serious. “The people at Hilltop Home want pets?”
“Some do, sure. That’s why I bring my dogs over. Visiting furry angels. I even crocheted them little wings to put on their harnesses,” I confess with a blush.
King looks more smitten than ever. “That’s adorable.”
I have to change the subject. No one’s looked at me like that. Ever. Certainly not one of the handsome jock types.
“Saw your video. Videos. Both.” I collect up plates and walk to the kitchen.
“I hate the internet sometimes,” he heaves a sigh and stands up, carefully trying to grapple with dishes.