Chapter 3
Carla
Istood in the middle of my hotel room, tugging at the bottom of my holiday sweater. The reindeer’s red nose blinked cheerfully. I smiled at my small act of rebellion against years of Aunt Misty’s disdain for what she called tacky Christmas decorations.
“It’s not tacky,” I said. “It’s festive.” Big difference.
My aunt would have hated it, which somehow made me love it even more. After a day of hard work at the rodeo grounds, I deserved something comfortable and perky. Besides, no one here knew me well enough to judge.
I smoothed my hair, applied a touch of lip gloss, and took a deep breath. I was going to dinner in the hotel saloon. Nothing fancy. Nothing to be nervous about.
So why did my stomach feel like I’d swallowed a sorhox?
When I descended the stairs, the Red Fang Saloon hummed with activity.
Christmas decorations had transformed the already charming Western-themed space into something magical.
Pine garland draped along the bar had been woven with red bandanas instead of ribbon.
Sparkling lights hung from the rafters, and a tall Christmas tree in the corner gleamed with ornaments shaped like tiny lassos, sheriff stars, and horseshoes.
The whole effect was rustic and festive without being overdone, like everything else in Lonesome Creek. Despite being less than a year old, the town felt authentic in a way that corporate-designed tourist traps couldn’t quite manage.
Greel stood behind the bar in full cowboy regalia, including a cowboy hat and a Western shirt with pearl snap buttons.
I’d met him when I checked in. He mixed drinks while awkwardly swaying to “Jingle Bell Rock,” his big green form making the movement look both endearing and comical.
A group of tourists at the bar watched him with delighted expressions, occasionally snapping photos of the authentic orc cowboy Christmas experience.
I hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, feeling out of place despite my determination to fit in. Then Greel’s mate, Jessi, who I’d also met when I checked in, spotted me from across the room.
Her eyes widened as she wove through the tables with easy grace. “There you are.” She raised her voice over the music. “I was wondering if you’d join us tonight or have room service again.”
I’d ordered dinner to my room the past two nights rather than try to be social. Apparently, nothing went unnoticed in this small town.
“I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.” I gestured to the busy saloon.
“Let’s seat you somewhere with a good view of everything.” She led me to a small table in the front, near the windows. “Chef Lavon’s running holiday specials tonight. The spicy roast drundeg is amazing.”
I nodded like I had any idea what a drundeg was.
“And don’t worry about the bill,” she added with a warm smile. “Staff eat free.”
“Really?”
“They have since we set this place up. You’re working for us, so you’re staff, which is pretty much family to us.”
“Thank you.”
She gave me a smile and headed toward the entrance where a family waited to be seated.
Me, family? The thought settled strangely in my chest. I’d never belonged anywhere. Growing up with an aunt and uncle who viewed me as an inconvenient responsibility had taught me early that I was adjacent to them.
I shook off the memories and opened the menu, overwhelmed by unfamiliar terms. “Zeckadon. Ashenbird. Chumble stew. No idea what any of those are.” I might as well be reading a foreign language.
“Zeckadon is much like your quiche, made from chumble eggs.”
I looked up to find Becken standing beside my table, and my breath caught in my throat.
He’d cleaned up after our day at the rodeo grounds, trading work clothes for dark jeans and a charcoal Western shirt that stretched impressively across his broad shoulders.
The tips of his dark hair were still damp from a shower, and he’d even traded his work boots for more polished ones.
With a cowboy hat parked low on his brow, he looked good. Really good.
His eyes dropped to my sweater, and I fought the urge to cross my arms over the blinking red nose.
“Nice…deer,” he said, his expression unreadable.
“It’s a reindeer. Rudolph. He has a red nose.” The nose blinked obligingly, as if to demonstrate.
“I can see that. It’s flashing.”
“Too much?” I asked, feeling my cheeks warm.
“No. It’s festive.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or being honest.
“First time with orc cuisine?” He nodded toward my open menu.
“That obvious, huh?” I’d picked up a burger from the restaurant last night, eating it in my room.
“You’ve been staring at the same page for three minutes.”
I laughed. “I don’t know what half these things are.”
“Would you like some translations?” His formal tone contrasted with his casual clothing.
“I’d appreciate that. Otherwise I might end up accidentally ordering something still moving.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been almost a smile. “We save the still-moving dishes for special occasions.”
He pulled over a chair from an empty table nearby, a proper orc-sized chair that accommodated his frame, and settled across from me.
“This one,” he said, leaning forward to point at an item on the menu. “Is similar to what humans call beef stew, but with earthy spices from the orc kingdom. It’s good if you like complex flavors.”
As he walked me through the menu options, I watched his hands. They were large, like the rest of him, with calluses that spoke of years of physical work. When he reached across to point at something and our fingers accidentally brushed, I felt a small shock run up my arm.
“Sorry,” we both said at the same time.
I looked up to find him watching me, his dark eyes thoughtful. Then his gaze dropped to my sweater again, and I swore he frowned.
“I like it,” I said defensively. “Christmas sweaters make me happy.”
“It does suit you.”
I narrowed my eyes, unsure if I was being insulted. “Is that orc for ‘it looks ridiculous’?”
“No.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “That would be ghuznak. I meant what I said.”
Oh. I felt my cheeks heat again, for an entirely different reason.
Jessi arrived with two glasses of water and a knowing smile that made me wonder if my interest in Becken was more obvious than I’d realized.
“Ready to order?” She glanced between us. “Or do you need more time?”
“I think we’re ready,” Becken announced before I could speak. “She’ll have the spiced ashenbird with root vegetables, and I’ll take my usual.” He glanced toward me. “Dundreg.”
“Perfect choices,” Jessi said, collecting our menus.
As she walked away, I raised an eyebrow at Becken. “You ordered for me?”
“You’ll like it. But I can call her back if you want.”
“No, it’s fine.” His confidence impressed me. “I trust your judgment on orc food.”
From behind the bar, Greel’s deep voice joined in with the music. He belted out “Santa Baby” with enthusiasm, if not exactly perfect pitch.
I smiled. “Is he always like that?”
Becken glanced over at his fellow orc. “My cousin has been practicing for weeks.”
“It’s adorable.”
“That’s one word for it.” But I caught the hint of affection in his voice.
“You’re not a fan of Christmas music?” I asked.
“I’m not a fan of singing about a mythical being who breaks into homes to leave packages.”
I laughed. “When you put it that way, it does sound a little creepy.”
“Humans have strange traditions.” I heard no malice in his voice. “Orcs don’t have a similar holiday. We mark the seasons differently underground.”
“I bet the decorations here seem excessive.”
He looked around at the twinkling lights and garland. “It’s…yes. Excessive.” He must’ve seen my face drop. “And cheerful. Holly and Max decorated the tree.”
I followed his gaze to where it stood in the corner. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never had a real tree.”
“Why not?” His brow furrowed.
I shrugged. “My aunt thought they were messy. We had a tabletop plastic one, about a foot tall.”
“The forest beyond town has perfect trees,” he said, as if this were a problem with an easy solution. “We could cut one down that would fit in your hotel room.”
The casual “we” made my heart do a little flip that I immediately suppressed. He was being polite.
“That’s sweet, but I’m only here for a few weeks,” I reminded him. “I’ll be gone the day after Christmas.”
Something in his expression shifted, and I realized I’d inadvertently reminded us both of the temporary nature of my stay.
“Right.” His tone came out more businesslike. “You’re here to fulfill a contract.”
“Yes, um…yes.” I stared down at the table.
Jessi returned with our food, saving us from the awkward moment. The aroma rising from my plate made my mouth water.
“Lavon sent some specials for you both to try.” She set down an additional small plate with what looked like appetizers. “Let me know what you think.”
She left, and I realized Becken and I were officially having dinner together. Not a business meeting or a working lunch. Dinner.
“You don’t have to eat with me just because I don’t understand the menu,” I said, worried I was imposing. He could’ve had other plans.
“I was going to eat anyway. Might as well have company.”
We ate in peaceful silence for a few minutes. The food was incredible—rich and flavorful in ways I couldn’t describe.
“This is amazing,” I said after swallowing a particularly delicious bite. “What exactly is drundeg again?”
“It’s similar to what humans call wild boar, but with a thicker hide and tusks.” He demonstrated with his fingers near his own tusks, which I found oddly charming.
“Do you miss the food from the orc kingdom?” I asked. “This must taste like home.”
He smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his entire face. “It does. Lavon’s been experimenting with surface spices, but the base flavors are exactly right.” He paused. “It’s been longer than I expected since I’ve tasted anything that reminded me of home.”
His smile did something warm and liquid to my insides. I took a sip of water for distraction.
“So what brought you to Lonesome Creek?” he asked. “Besides the consulting contract.”
“The professional opportunity offered here,” I said automatically, words I’d used with other bosses before. “I’ve been working on rodeo operations for years. This is my first major independent consulting contract.”
“Most rodeo consultants have riding experience.” It wasn’t quite a question, but I heard it anyway.
“I know all the technical aspects,” I said.
“None of my prior jobs required me to ride, though I suppose I could’ve asked if they minded.
I didn’t grow up riding like some people.
My aunt and uncle weren’t exactly the type to sign me up for riding lessons.
They were more the here’s a book, entertain yourself kind of guardians. ”
I hadn’t meant to reveal that much. Something about his direct gaze made honesty too easy.
“Orcs raise younglings differently,” he said. “Children belong to the community, not only their parents. Everyone helps teach them.”
“I’m sure it’s nice having so many people invested in your well-being.”
“It has advantages. And complications.”
I sensed there was more to that statement, but before I could ask, children’s voices broke through the noise of the saloon. A small group gathered near the tree and were singing “Deck the Halls” with more enthusiasm than polish.
Max spotted us between verses and waved our way.
Becken gave the boy a solemn nod, which delighted Max.
“You’re good with kids,” I said.
“They ask direct questions,” he said. “No hidden agendas.”
I watched him watching the children, noting how his expression softened. There were layers to this grumpy orc I hadn’t expected. Beneath the stoic exterior was someone who cared deeply about his work, the sorhoxes, everyone living in this town.
I returned my attention to my food.
“How are you finding the hotel?” he asked after turning back to face me.
“It’s comfortable, though I think I’m one of the only guests who’s not a tourist.”
“Other than me. I’m staying in the hotel as well, until I figure out if I’m going to remain on the surface. Most of the others are here for the authentic orc cowboy experience.” He grimaced. “Whatever that means.”
“Says the orc wearing a cowboy hat and authentic-appearing boots.”
“We had ranches in the orc kingdom, but nothing like this Western setup.”
“No ten-gallon hats underground?”
“None whatsoever.” His dry delivery made me laugh.
A group of women at a nearby table watched Becken with obvious interest, whispering to each other and casting appreciative glances his way. He remained oblivious to the attention, focused entirely on our conversation.
For some reason, this pleased me.
We finished our meals talking about the rodeo program and our plans for the next day’s work. By the time our plates were empty, I’d thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I started to lift my hand toward Jessi for a bill before I remembered her words.
“Staff eat free,” Becken. “One of the benefits.”
“Right,” I grabbed my clutch. It wasn’t that uncommon for the ranches where I’d worked to feed all the staff in one big room. Restaurant dining and a menu was completely different.
We stood at the same time, and I was reminded of how tall and big he was compared to me, and I was five-nine. As we walked toward the stairs, I felt strangely aware of his presence beside me, like an invisible current ran between us. Such an odd thought.
“We’re still on for early tomorrow morning?” I said as we climbed the steps.
“Sounds good. Wear a warm coat. Mornings are cold this time of year.”
We reached my door. I paused, my key in hand, unsure of the proper protocol. This wasn’t a date; it was dinner between colleagues. So why did it feel like I should suggest we hang out a bit longer?
Becken stood nearby, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. “The sweater really does suit you. It’s honest.”
Before I could formulate a response to that unexpected comment, he nodded and continued down the hall.
I slipped into my room and closed the door, leaning against it. My hand drifted up to touch the reindeer on my sweater, its nose still blinking faithfully.
Honest, he’d said. Not pretty. Not cute. Honest. Coming from him, it felt like the highest compliment.
I shook my head, trying to dismiss the warm feeling spreading through my chest. This was a job, not a holiday romance. In less than a month, I’d be gone, moving on to the next job, the next town.
But as I got ready for bed, I remembered his smile, so genuine it had transformed his entire face. Maybe that was what drew me to him, the sense that everything about him was genuine. No pretense, no games. Honesty, even when it came wrapped in grumpiness.
I set my alarm for well before dawn and climbed into bed, telling myself I was excited about the rodeo program, not about seeing a certain orc cowboy again.
Even I didn’t believe that lie.