1
WILLA
Ididn’t need three beers to give me courage. I was born with courage.
At least where one-night stands were concerned. Courage in other aspects of my life was sadly lacking. But my friends and I were in a bar having tracked down the watering hole of The Tusks, and instead of shooting our shot, we were all huddled at a table, sending the muscle-bound orcs who made up Baltimore’s new hockey team admiring side glances.
“Screw it.” I got up from my chair, avoiding my friend Jordan’s hastily outstretched hand, and sauntered up to the orcs at the bar. We’d just watched them suffer an epic loss at tonight’s game, and while I normally took a dim view of losing at sports, I couldn’t really fault these guys. They clearly had been tossed into this NHL team not knowing the game or even how to skate. In spite of that, they’d not only managed to put one in the Red Wing’s net, they’d come out on top of a pretty awesome fight in the second half.
Which wasn’t surprising, since they were orcs.
Jordan had met one of them going back to her car to drop off her jacket, and she’d been pretty flustered and flushed over theencounter. So I’d dragged my friends here partly to see Jordan squirm and partly to get an eyeful of these dudes up close.
I was glad I had. Up close, they were even more impressive than they’d been at a distance on the ice during the game. At five foot eleven, I wasn’t exactly small, but next to these orcs I felt downright petite. And the muscles… I had a thing for muscles—mostly because of my job as a personal trainer.
“Hey boys!” I called out as I approached the orcs. “Great fight tonight. You might not have won the game, but you beat the snot out of those Red Wings.”
The four turned around to look at me. Ozar, the one Jordan clearly had a thing for, slid his gaze from me to where my friend sat. I bit back a smile, feeling a little like Cupid. Jordan hadn’t had the best luck with boyfriends, and in the last year she’d abandoned any efforts at dating to focus on her career. The girl needed some male affection, and from the way the orc was looking at her, he was absolutely ready to lavish all sorts of attention on her.
“Fight or not, we lost,” the largest of the four grunted.
I shrugged. “It’s the first game of the season. I’m sure you’ll take home the win next time.”
The orcs stared at me in disbelief. I didn’t believe it either, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Rah-rah, go team, you’ll win next time, and all that stuff. Part of my job involved encouraging my clients because if they didn’t believe they could achieve their goals, they weren’t likely to apply the effort necessary to get there.
“I’m not interested in winning. I’m not here to win this stupid game or to evenplaythis stupid game.”
It wasn’t the super-bulky orc that spoke, or the lean one who’d been consumed by his cell phone, or Ozar who was paying no attention to me and focusing completely on Jordan. It was a muscular, clean shaven orc with short, dark hair—the one who’dpropped up the wall the entire game rather than making even a small attempt at supporting his team.
In a weird way I admired him. Rather than make a fool of himself trying to play a game he didn’t know against elite athletes who’d been on the ice since they could walk, he’d just refused. I’d dug in my heels plenty in my life, choosing to honor my beliefs and personal goals over my family’s and society’s expectations. That sort of stubborn rebellion appealed to me.
And this orc’s gorgeous dark eyes, his angular jaw, and the defined muscles in his arms appealed to me as well.
“Let me buy you a drink and you can tell me what does interest you.”
It was a flat-out come-on, but the orc didn’t seem interested. “I have a drink,” he informed me.
Okay, maybe this was a language issue and not necessarily a rejection. I waved a hand over to our table. “Come sit with us. We’d love to buy you all a round.”
Ozar was up and across the pub in a shot. The leaner orc with the cell phone addiction was hot on his heels. The bulky guy and the rebel were a little slower to follow, but they did finally get up and make their way to our table.
Ozar eagerly grabbed a seat next to Jordan while the other three stared at the chairs a few seconds before carefully choosing. I ended up sandwiched between the rebel orc who’d propped up a wall the entirety of the game and the other long-haired, muscle-bound one. And Idomean sandwiched. These seats and tables weren’t meant for huge orcs so thighs, shoulders, and arms cadged me into my seat, constantly brushing against me as the hockey players shifted uncomfortably.
It absolutely was turning me on. Which was kinda weird. I liked knowing I was on a physically even playing field with nearly every guy I dated, but any one of these orcs could toss meover their shoulder and haul me off to their lair like I was some helpless damsel. The idea left me feeling a strange mixture of nervous and excited.
Jordan’s orc had immediately engaged her in conversation. Abby seemed to have built an instant rapport with the leaner one sitting next to her. But me? I’d ended up with two hot dudes who stared moodily into their pint glasses without the slightest attempt to engage me in conversation.
A challenge? Well, then, challenge accepted.
Einee, meanie, miney, moe…
“You said you weren’t interested in hockey. Whatareyou interested in?” I asked the rebel orc.
He grunted, not replying.
“So…nothing? You didn’t have any hobbies back home? Throwing tree trunks across a pasture? Playing trombone in a jazz band? Embroidery?”
He grunted. Again. And his lack of response was beginning to annoy me.
