Chapter 13 Carla
Carla
Since it was the weekend, I lounged in my hotel room for a couple of days, doted on by Holly and Max.
I kept thinking of what happened between Becken and me.
And I kept coming to no solution other than me leaving as planned.
I’d worked for ten years to get where I was. I’d be foolish to throw that away now.
Monday arrived with all the subtlety of a sorhox stampede.
I stared at my reflection in the hotel room mirror, practicing professional expressions while the golden mark on my wrist seemed to mock every attempt at normalcy.
How was I supposed to face Becken and pretend nothing was different when we were more or less, sorta married?
Okay, not married. Mated.
How could I have a Vegas quickie wedding without saying I do, let alone with a preacher dressed as Elvis?
The mark caught the morning light streaming through my window, a perfect circle that looked like someone had tattooed me with liquid gold. The swirling design in the middle was pretty. If I’d decided to get another tattoo, something like this would’ve drawn my eye.
“No, no, it wouldn’t,” I snarled at my reflection in the mirror. “I would never choose to be mated—married—whatever—to a grumpy orc.”
A cute, grumpy orc with a wicked tongue, but still.
I’d scrubbed at the mark in the shower until my skin was raw, but it remained as vibrant as ever. Permanent, Becken had said. Just like the bond it represented.
Unless I left when my contract was over. He said it would fade. Would it also let us forget? I worried it would take more than me leaving Lonesome Creek to make me forget Becken.
I pulled on a long-sleeved sweater, making sure the cuff covered the mark. Professional armor. If I looked competent and in control, I could convince myself I actually was.
The walk to the rodeo grounds felt longer than usual, my boots crunching through the snow that still blanketed the town, though they’d cleaned things up nicely, leaving enough to be festive but not so much it impeded anyone from strolling around town. The holiday was approaching fast.
Becken was already at the arena when I arrived, of course.
He stood near the sorhox pens with his back to me, his broad shoulders tense beneath his work jacket.
Even from a distance, I felt an odd awareness of him, like my nerves had been fine-tuned to his frequency.
Not emotions exactly, but…presence. The way you might notice a storm building on the horizon before you consciously registered the darkening clouds.
“Morning,” I called out, proud of how normal my voice sounded.
He turned, and for a moment, our eyes met. The air between us seemed to shimmer with unspoken memories of tangled limbs and whispered names. Then his own professional armor slipped into place, matching mine.
“Morning. How’s the ankle?”
“Much better. Barely any pain.” I took a few steps to demonstrate, acutely aware of his gaze tracking my movement. “I’m ready to get back to work.”
“Good. We have a lot to catch up on.”
We went to his office, where he put my foot up on a spare chair despite my telling him it was okay.
For the next hour, we maintained careful distance while reviewing the rodeo program timeline.
Becken explained what he hoped to accomplish, his voice steady and impersonal.
I took notes on my tablet, occasionally asking questions that had nothing to do with the way his hands moved when he gestured or how his voice roughened when he said my name.
The charade continued until Aunt Inla appeared with two steaming mugs of tea and a concerned expression, dressed in a floral, floor-length Wild West gown that matched the poke bonnet on her head.
Despite the chilly air outside, she’d draped a bright pink shawl over her shoulders. Orcs truly were warm-blooded.
“How are you both doing today?” She handed us mugs, her eyes scanning my face. “Being stranded in a blizzard must have been terrifying. I planned to stop by, but Holly told me you were resting.”
“You should’ve. I would’ve enjoyed the company.”
Her tusky grin rose. “Next time, I will.”
I doubted there would be a next time, but sure.
“We’re doing great.” I took a sip of my tea and lifted my mug her way. “Thanks for bringing this.”
Her hand landed on my shoulder, and she squeezed. “Any time. Truly.”
Her gaze flicked between us before landing on my foot still propped up on the chair. A subtle smile rose on her face. “I see Becken has made sure you continue to rest your foot. Orcs are very protective of the people they care about.”
Heat crept up my neck. “We’re colleagues. Nothing else.”
“Of course.” Her smile suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Well, since you’re both here, I wanted to discuss the Christmas preparations. Some of us met up yesterday at the saloon and finalized the schedule of events, but we know you two will want to be involved.”
Becken grumbled into his mug of tea.
I grinned. Christmas preparations? Count me in.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper from her dress pocket. “The Christmas market will start later this week, and crafters from all over will be here to sell their wares. They’ll continue selling goods through Sunday. We’ll hold the tree lighting ceremony Friday night and—”
I leaned forward, excitement shooting through me. “You’ve cut the tree?”
She tugged on one of her prairie bonnet ties. “Not so far. We thought—”
“Can we take part?” Without thinking it through, I turned to Becken, my enthusiasm for anything holiday-related making me bounce in my chair. “Can we? You’ll let me hit it with the axe or saw away at the trunk or however you plan to cut it, right?”
“I wasn’t planning on—”
“What an amazing idea, Becken,” Aunt Inla half-shouted. “Thank you so much for volunteering to cut the tree. You too, Carla. Will you please select the tallest you can and make sure it’s delivered to the middle of town in time?”
“I didn’t volunteer,” Becken said.
Inla huffed. “Ostor volunteered to make a stand and set the tree upright. And Tark and Sel said they’d string the lights, though, naturally, they won’t connect them to power yet.
That’s for Saturday night. Hail’s making pottery ornaments with Allie, and each visitor will be able to take theirs home with them.
Even Dungar is working on the star we’ll place on the top. Why don’t you want to be involved?”
With each pronouncement, Becken slunk lower in his chair. He looked at me as if he hoped I’d defend him, but frankly, the thought of him and me cutting down and bringing back the Christmas tree made me want to shout with joy. I fed him a slick grin.
He was caught, and he knew it.
“Alright, I’ll do it,” he growled.
“We’ll do it,” I said with a wide smile.
“Wonderful.” Aunt Inla hopped around and consulted her list again. “On Saturday, we’ll hold the parade. We thought in the morning. The families who are remaining through the holiday will be thrilled to be a part of it all. As for the parade, we were hoping the rodeo program could participate.”
Becken crossed his arms on his chest. “Participate how?”
“Wouldn’t it be amazing if sorhoxes marched in the parade, dressed like reindeer?” Her excitement was infectious. “That’ll set things up perfectly for the Santa’s village we’re setting up inside the function hall in the afternoon.”
“That’s a lot to expect of the sorhoxes,” Becken said carefully. “They aren’t used to crowds.”
“Which is why we’ll have to prepare them.” My mind was already racing with possibilities. “It’s a perfect opportunity to showcase what the program can offer.”
Becken reeled back in his chair. “You think we should do this?”
“I think it’s exactly what this program needs.
Community integration, positive publicity.
Every person watching will be able to picture themselves riding a sorhox after that.
When we post the first events, they’ll sign up.
When they leave, they’ll tell their friends about their amazing experience.
Before you know it, we’ll be booked solid. ”
“We?”
My face heated. That was right; I’d be gone before all that could happen. “Well, you.”
“No, both of you,” Inla gushed. “This is going to be wonderful.” She bounced on her toes. “I’ll let the others know you’re happy to participate.” Starting toward the door, she turned back, frowning. “We do have one other tiny issue.”
I lifted my eyebrows, urging her on.
“We still need someone to play Santa. He’ll drive the sleigh pulled by the sorhox reindeer, then lead the children to the village where they can meet him.”
I couldn’t do it. I shouldn’t do it.
Well, I was going to.
“I think we all know who should drive the reindeer and play Santa, don’t you agree, Aunt Inla?” I said with another big grin.
“Wonderful!” Inla nodded toward Becken. “Thank you so much for volunteering for that too.” She strode through the door, shutting it snugly behind her.
For a moment, I thought Becken was going to stride around his desk and latch onto me. Shake me, maybe, though he’d given no indication he could be violent.
And for another moment, I almost wondered if he might kiss me instead. My body heated up at the thought.
“You,” he snarled.
I fed him another smile. “Should we get back to that schedule?”
“You volunteered me.”
“Me, too. Don’t you want to help me cut the tree? Surely you don’t expect me to figure out how to do that on my own.”
Releasing a long sigh, he rubbed his palms down his face.
“The events will be good practice for the programs you’ll run after I leave,” I said, my excitement gone, the words tasting bitter.
“Right. After you leave.”
Before we could get back to planning, someone else knocked on the door. It swung open before we could call out, and Rosey and Gracie strode inside.
“Carla,” Rosey said. “So good to see you up and about. How’s the ankle?”
“It’s doing much better, thanks.”