Epilogue
CARLA
Summer sunshine came through the windows of our new ranch house, bathing the wooden floors in golden light.
Six months had transformed Lonesome Creek from a winter wonderland to a lush paradise, wildflowers carpeting the surrounding meadows and trees heavy with leaves.
The change in seasons mirrored the change in my life from temporary consultant to permanent resident, from professional nomad to a woman with roots.
And what deep roots they’d become.
“That’s the last box,” Becken said, setting a cardboard container labeled kitchen on the counter. Sweat glistened on his forehead from the June heat, his t-shirt clinging to muscles earned from a lifetime of hard work. “Unless you’re hiding more in that tiny hotel room.”
“No more boxes.” I smiled, crossing the room to open the windows wider. A warm breeze carried the scent of pine and summer grass. “It’s hard to believe everything I own fits in the back of one wagon.”
“Not everything you own.” He gestured around the two-bedroom ranch house we’d spent months building. “This is yours too. Ours.”
Pride swelled in my chest as I looked around at what we’d created together.
The big living room with a stone fireplace and comfortable furniture.
The kitchen with the breakfast nook where I already imagined sharing morning tea with my mate.
The master bedroom with its orc-sized bed built to accommodate Becken’s height.
Every board, every nail, and every finishing touch represented not only our work, but our family’s investment in our future.
Ruugar and Ostor had framed the structure.
Tark designed and constructed the built-in cabinets.
Hail selected the bathroom fixtures and installed them.
Even a few tourists had contributed, signing a supporting beam with well wishes when they learned who the house was for.
“I still can’t believe we built this.” I ran my hand along the smooth countertop. “I’ve never owned property before. Never stayed anywhere long enough to put down roots.”
“It suits you.” Becken moved to stand behind me, his arms encircling my waist, his chin resting on top of my head. “You’ve bloomed here.”
The simple truth of that statement made tears fill my eyes. I had bloomed in Lonesome Creek, professionally and personally, in ways I never could have imagined when I first arrived during a snowy December.
My position as operations manager had evolved beyond the original job description.
Now I oversaw not only the rodeo program, but all of Lonesome Creek’s tourist attractions, from trail rides to pottery classes to the new festival series we’d launched in May.
Revenue had increased thirty percent since Christmas, and advance bookings for the fall and winter seasons were already at capacity.
I’d discovered true success could mean building something in one place rather than constantly moving on to the next challenge.
The recognition I’d always craved had come not from fancy positions or impressive titles, but from creating something uniquely valuable that honored both human and orc traditions.
“What are you thinking about?” Becken’s voice rumbled through me.
“How different everything is from the life I’d planned.” I turned in his arms to face him. “How much better it is.”
His smile, still rare enough to feel like a gift, shifted his serious face. “Better than California?”
“So much better.” I rose on tiptoes to kiss him, though he had to meet me halfway. “If you tell anyone I admitted that, I’ll deny it.”
His laughter filled our new home, the sound as warm as the summer air.
The golden mark on my wrist, like a tattoo I’d chosen rather than a magical brand, nearly gleamed with happiness.
The mating bond had settled into something deeper than physical attraction, more profound than even love.
It was recognition, belonging, certainty.
“We should finish unpacking before everyone arrives,” I said, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace. “Aunt Inla threatened to reorganize our kitchen if we don’t do it properly.”
“And Lavon backed her up.” Becken shook his head. “Those two are getting as bad as Jessi and Greel with the public displays of affection.”
“I think it’s sweet.” I began unpacking dishes from the nearest box. “Inla deserves happiness after spending so many years looking after everyone else.”
“She does.” Becken took the plates from my hands, placing them on the shelves. “Though I could do without walking in on them kissing in the general store stockroom.”
I laughed, remembering his mortified expression after that particular incident. “Better get used to it. From the way they were dancing at the Midsummer Festival, I’d say we might be attending another mating ceremony before winter.”
Working side by side, we unpacked the kitchen supplies, arranging them in the cabinets according to the system we’d developed during our months in the hotel.
My professional skills and his practical approach had melded into something that worked for both of us, a metaphor for our relationship if there ever was one.
The sound of sorhoxes approaching interrupted a kiss to share our success. Through the front windows, I spotted a bunch of our family filling our driveway.
I checked the time on my phone. “They’re early.”
“They’re excited. It’s not every day Lonesome Creek gets a new home for its operations manager and sorhox master.”
The housewarming party had been Ostor’s idea, though everyone had quickly jumped in on the plan. After months of watching our house take shape on the outskirts of town, our family wanted to celebrate its completion and officially welcome me into the fold.
Beth reached us first, little Noma balanced on her hip. At six months old, the baby already showed the distinctive features of both her parents. She had her father’s green-tinged skin and her mother’s delicate bone structure. When they entered, she reached for Becken, gurgling happily.
“Someone’s been asking for Uncle Becken all morning,” Beth said, transferring the squirming baby to his arms.
The sight of my grumpy, serious mate cradling the infant made my heart flutter.
Noma immediately grabbed for his cowboy hat, a game they’d played over months of interaction.
He, like usual, removed it and plunked it on her head.
Her giggles erupted beneath the leather, and she shoved it back, laughing harder when it fell on the floor.
“The place looks amazing,” Beth said, spinning to take in the open living area. “Though of course we all knew it would.”
“I still need curtains,” I said. “And I’m going to buy some of Allie’s artwork to hang on the walls.”
“It’ll come in due time. You’ve been running an entire tourist town while building a house. Curtains and art can wait.”
More sorhoxes arrived, carrying familiar faces bearing food, drinks, and housewarming gifts.
Holly and Sel brought a massive platter of pastries.
Tark and Gracie arrived with framed photographs of the construction process, a perfect before-and-after documentation of our journey.
Aunt Inla swept in with Lavon, both carrying baskets of household essentials I hadn’t even realized we needed.
Within minutes, our new home overflowed with family, conversation, and laughter. Dungar claimed a spot on our new couch, nursing a beer and looking more relaxed than I’d seen him in months.
“The new deputy starts next week,” he told me when I joined him. “She comes highly recommended from the county sheriff’s department.”
“You’re finally getting help,” I said. “It’s about time.”
“The town’s growing.” He gestured with his bottle. “Thanks largely to your marketing campaigns.”
“I’m just doing my job.” I couldn’t hide my pride, though. The strategic planning I’d implemented had transformed Lonesome Creek from a curiosity into a highly sought destination.
Becken sat with Noma on his lap across the room, listening as Ruugar described the baby’s latest milestone.
The tenderness in his expression sent warmth curling through me.
When he caught me watching, his eyes darkened with promise, the intensity of his gaze making my breath catch even after months together.
Some things hadn’t changed since that snowy December when our marks first appeared.
The physical connection between us remained as powerful as ever, the desire as overwhelming.
But now it was tempered with deeper understanding and the comfort of knowing each other’s bodies as thoroughly as we knew each other’s hearts.
Grannie Lil arrived last, her cane tapping a rhythm on our new wooden floors. “Well, well,” she said, inspecting the house with sharp eyes. “You’ve done a fine job here, both of you.”
“Thank you.” Rising, I helped her to a comfortable chair. “We couldn’t have done it without everyone’s help.”
“That’s what community means.” She settled into the seat like a queen on her throne. “Building each other up. Creating something together that’s stronger than any one person can make alone.”
The wisdom in her words struck a chord. Wasn’t that exactly what I’d found here? Not only with Becken, but with everyone in Lonesome Creek.
As the afternoon progressed into evening, we moved the celebration outside to the wide porch that wrapped around three sides of the house.
The view stretched across rolling hills to the forest and mountains beyond, the sunset painting everything in orange and red.
Peeka grazed in her pasture nearby, along with her new youngling and three younger sorhoxes Becken was training for the expanded trail ride program.
“Perfect timing.” Ostor nodded toward the horizon where stars were beginning to appear. “A housewarming and sunset viewing party in one.”
“Carla’s always been efficient,” Rosey teased, slipping an arm around her mate’s waist.
Laughter rippled through the gathering. I leaned against the porch railing, taking in the people who were family and this place that had become my home. This life I’d chosen had exceeded every expectation.
Becken appeared at my side, handing me a glass of wine. “Happy?”
The question had become our ritual, a check-in that needed no explanation. I took the glass, stroking his fingers first. “Completely.”
“Good.” He looked out over the land we shared, satisfaction blazing in his eyes. “It’s been a good six months.”
“The best.” Evening stars appeared above the mountains. “I have a feeling the next six might be even better.”
“Why’s that?” He turned to face me, one eyebrow raised.
I took a deep breath, my hand drifting to my abdomen. “I’m not completely sure. It’s only a feeling.”
His eyes widened, tracking the movement of my hand, and he gulped. “Carla…”
“It’s too soon to tell yet,” I whispered. “But I’m late. And I’ve been dizzy in the mornings.”
Joy bloomed on his face, so pure and unguarded it made my heart spasm. “A youngling?”
“Maybe.” I sent him a grin. “Would that be okay?”
“You’re actually asking?” He laughed, the sound drawing curious glances from our family. “It would be…” He shook his head, unable to find the words to express his feelings.
He pulled me against him, one large hand splaying protectively over my still-flat belly. The tenderness in the gesture brought tears to my eyes.
“I never thought I’d have this,” I said. “A home. A family. A future like this.”
“You have all of it now.” He kissed the top of my head. “And more to come.”
We stood together as twilight deepened into night, stars emerging one by one until the sky blazed with light. Around us, our family continued celebrating, their voices and laughter creating the soundtrack of our new life.
Summer had transformed Lonesome Creek from the snow-covered town I’d first encountered, revealing new beauty in its rolling hills and flowering meadows. The change of seasons brought growth and renewal, mirroring my life.
Winter had given me Becken and the unexpected gift. Spring had nurtured our relationship and our new home. Now summer promised even more abundance and possibly the greatest gift of all.
I marveled at how different my path had turned out from what I’d planned, how much richer, deeper, more fulfilling it was now.
I’d come to Lonesome Creek for professional advancement, but I’d found purpose, community, and love.
I’d come as a consultant, intending to leave. I’d stayed as a mate, ready to build a future.
And by choosing to stay, I’d discovered the true meaning of love.
I hope you enjoyed Becken and Carla’s story as much as I did writing it.
Next (and last, boo-hoo!) is Giddy Up Orc Cowboy, Dungar’s story…
I came to Lonesome Creek to hide from my past, not to fall for a seven-foot orc sheriff who makes me feel safe for the first time in years.
Riley: I’ve spent two years running from men who want me dead.
Now I’m hiding as a small-town deputy in a Wild West tourist trap run by orcs.
The plan: keep my head down, trust no one, and move on when necessary.
What wasn’t in the plan? Sheriff Dungar Bronish—a gorgeous, methodical orc who protects his town with the same precision he organizes his sock drawer.
When he looks at me like I’m his entire world, staying hidden becomes impossible.
But if my past catches up with me, I won’t be the only one in danger.
Dungar: The moment Riley walks into my office, the mating mark appears on my wrist. She’s my fated mate, my perfect match.
But she’s running from something dangerous, and gaining her trust means giving her space she doesn’t believe she deserves.
As mysterious thefts threaten our town and her secrets surface, one thing becomes clear: I’ll do anything to protect what’s mine, even if it means facing down villains and thieves with nothing but small-town determination and an orc’s protective instincts.