Chapter 1
Carla
Istared at my reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, adjusting the collar of my button-down shirt for the third time. Outside, the December air carried the crisp promise of snow, and Christmas lights sparkled from every building along Lonesome Creek’s Main Street.
The small Western tourist town looked like something out of a holiday movie, all rustic charm and twinkling magic.
The kind of place where families gathered around dinner tables and kids left cookies and milk out for Santa.
The kind of Christmas I’d watched through other people’s windows growing up.
I made sure my hair was secure in its no-nonsense bun and checked the time on my phone. Seven fifteen. Early enough to grab coffee and donuts from the bakery before heading to the rodeo arena. I wasn’t actually expected to start working until tomorrow, but I’d made some reparation plans for today.
Yesterday’s disaster still made my stomach clench when I thought about it. I’d walked into that saloon so confident, ready to dazzle my new boss with my expertise, and instead I’d managed to insult the one person I most needed to impress.
The kid who never quite fit anywhere had struck again.
This three-week contract was supposed to change everything. My first major independent consulting job, the chance to build my own business instead of working for someone else’s company forever.
Ten years of managing rodeo operations, and I’d walked in acting like I already knew everything about a completely different species.
I’d successfully launched programs in three states, managed budgets in the millions, negotiated with insurance companies and city councils and temperamental contractors.
But none of that mattered if I couldn’t adapt to working with sorhoxes.
The memory made me cringe all over again.
I’d walked into that saloon like I owned the place, tablet in hand, ready to dazzle everyone with my credentials.
My new boss, Becken, had been sitting at a table, nursing a drink, his big orc frame somehow managing to look both relaxed and intimidating in that oversized wooden chair.
“You’re the rodeo consultant,” he’d said when I introduced myself. Not unfriendly, exactly, but there had been something flat about his tone that should’ve warned me.
Instead, I’d launched into my spiel about modern operations and implementing industry-standard protocols. The more I talked, the more his expression had closed off, until he’d looked like he was carved from stone. When I’d mentioned safety improvements for “the animals,” he’d actually grimaced.
“They’re not animals,” he’d said, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the saloon’s chatter. “They’re sorhoxes.”
“Of course,” I’d said, waving my hand. “The principle remains the same. With proper management—”
“Have you ever worked with sorhoxes?” The question had been quiet, almost conversational, but something about his stillness made the entire saloon go silent.
“Well, no, but I’ve managed dozens of rodeo programs with horses, bulls, broncos—”
“So, no.” He’d set his drink down with deliberate care. “You’ve never ridden a sorhox. Never trained one. Never even seen one, I bet.”
The dismissal in his voice had made my cheeks burn, but I’d pushed forward anyway. “Managing a beast like that is nearly the same thing as—”
“No.” He’d stood then, all seven feet of him unfolding from his chair like a mountain coming to life. “It’s not.”
Then he’d walked out, leaving me standing there with my tablet and my theories while half the town watched in uncomfortable silence.
I grabbed my coat, mentally rehearsing what I’d say when I saw Becken again.
I’ve never encountered a situation that couldn’t be managed with proper adherence to established protocols. I’d actually said that. Out loud. To a male who’d probably been working rodeos since I was a teenager.
And when he’d asked if I’d ever actually ridden a sorhox? The way my voice had gone all defensive when I said, “Managing is nearly the same thing”.
I wanted to crawl under a rock just thinking about it. I’d felt like a complete fraud standing there with my tablet and my theories.
The morning air bit at my cheeks as I walked through town, my boots crunching on the frost-covered boardwalk. Maybe coffee and pastries would help. It was a pathetic peace offering, but at least it showed I was trying.
The bakery’s windows glowed warm and golden, and the scent of fresh bread made my mouth water. A Christmas garland framed the door, and hand-painted signs advertised holiday specials in cheerful red and green letters. A bell chimed overhead as I pushed through the door.
“There you are. How are you this morning, Carla?” A blonde woman looked up from where she was arranging pastries in the display case, her smile bright and genuine.
She looked to be in her late thirties, and she had the kind of easy confidence that came from being exactly where she belonged. “I’m Holly. I was…”
I winced. “In the saloon last night.”
“Um, yes.” She directed her gaze down at the display counter.
If only I could escape yesterday’s spectacular introduction. Half the town had been in that saloon, watching me make an ass of myself.
“Yes, I’m Carla. Carla Smith.”
“Holly. Holly Bronish.” She extended her hand over the counter for a shake.
“I was hoping to grab some pastries and coffee to take to the arena,” I said, studying the amazing selection. “A sort of peace offering for Becken.”
“Smart thinking,” said a boy who had to be Holly’s son. He stood in the open doorway to the adjacent room, wearing an oversized apron dusted with flour that made him look like a chef-in-training, yet glasses that made him look scholarly. “Mom, should I tell her about the maple bars?”
Holly laughed. “Max, meet Carla Smith. Carla? This is my son, Max. And yes, definitely tell her about the maple bars.”
“Becken’s got a serious weakness for them,” Max said with a grin. “Like, he’ll actually smile when you bring him one. It’s kind of scary.”
“Max,” Holly chided, but she was still smiling. “Don’t scare off our new friend.”
Ah, friend? I…wasn’t sure what to think about that.
“I think I did a pretty good job of scaring people away myself last night,” I said. “I walked in there acting like I knew everything about your operation when I’d never even seen a sorhox before.”
“We all jump in when we’re extra enthused. I saw it as a sign of your excitement for the project.”
That was kind.
Holly’s expression softened. “Becken’s not much of a morning person even on good days, but he’s got a sweet heart. He’s protective of his work and the sorhoxes.”
“And he should be. From what little I heard, he knows what he’s doing.” I gestured toward the display case. “So I’ll buy two maple bars. What else might help my cause?”
“Bear claws,” Max said. “And those cinnamon twists Mom made this morning. Oh, and definitely tea. Becken loves our peppermint tea.”
Holly was already filling a bakery box.
I found myself smiling for the first time since yesterday’s disaster. “How long have you lived here?”
“Eight months.” Holly added a covered cup of peppermint tea to my growing collection.
“We moved here when I took a position at the bakery with Sel. Then I fell in love with him. We’re mates, which is the same as married to orcs.
Max was a little skeptical about small-town life at first, but he loves it here as much as I do. ”
“It’s actually pretty cool,” Max said. “Especially once the tourists started coming. And the orcs are awesome. Becken taught me how to rope last month.”
The casual way he mentioned orcs struck me. In most places, they’d still be a novelty, something to stare at or whisper about. Here, they were just part of the community. Part of the family, from what I’d observed.
It hadn’t been that long since orcs emerged from below the ground—their orc kingdom, to be exact. Treaties were formed, and orcs now lived among us, taking jobs, going to baseball games, and dating humans.
“Sel should be back from his morning deliveries soon,” Holly said, her face lighting up in a way that made my heart twist tight.
“He’s been experimenting with a new cinnamon roll recipe, and I swear he gets more excited about perfecting the glaze than I’ve ever seen anyone get about anything.
” She laughed, the sound warm and genuine.
“Yesterday I caught him taste-testing three different versions while muttering to himself in Orcish. When I asked what he was saying, he told me he was asking the fates for guidance with the sugar ratios.”
Max rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “Sel talks to the ovens too. Mom thinks it’s romantic. I think it’s weird, but the bread always comes out perfect, so…”
“It is romantic,” Holly said. “He says baking is like love. If you put your whole heart into it, magic happens.”
The easy affection in her voice and the way her whole body softened when she talked about her mate was beautiful.
It was also everything I’d spent my life watching from the outside.
Even growing up, I’d been the kid observing other families at school pickup, wondering what it felt like to have someone’s face light up just because you rushed toward their car.
“That’s really lovely,” I said.
“Don’t let yesterday worry you too much.” Holly handed me the box and two cups of tea across the counter. “This town has a way of humbling people. But it also has a way of making them family.”
She wasn’t talking about relatives who tolerated your presence out of obligation, but actually chosen family. I’d seen it last night in the saloon—the easy way everyone interacted, the genuine affection and teasing. The kind of belonging I’d spent my whole life wanting.
“That’s…that’s really nice,” I said.
“Give it time,” Holly said. “And give Becken time too. He’s been through a lot. Change isn’t easy for anyone.”