“Let him go.” Stephanie’s voice was soft. “Don’t lie to yourself and say that you’ll be okay with just sex if that’s all he wants. Block his number, and let him go.”
“It’s going to be tough. I just got hired to be the team trainer for the Tusks.” I glanced around the gym because while I’d told management here and my clients, I hadn’t let my friends or family know about my new job. “No one else knows this, but Mr. Asshole is one of the orcs on the team.”
Stephanie’s eyes widened. “That’s amazing, Willa! Congrats. I mean about the job. That is truly horrible that you’re going to need to work with him on a professional basis now.”
“I know! How am I going to keep from falling back into his bed when he’ll be right there in front of me every day?”
“A couple dozen other orcs will be right in front of you as well. You’ll beworking. Just keep any interaction professional, refuse to see or speak to him outside of the job, and eventually he’ll get the hint,” she told me.
She was right. Eng might not attract the puck bunnies like Ozar and Ugwyll did, but he was hot, loaded with muscles, and a player on a professional sports team. The guy could get all the sex he wanted with the lift of a finger. And maybe I’d luck out and he’d find his perfect princess and be gone and out of my life in the next month or two.
My stomach knotted up at the idea.
“Hey, didn’t Jordan’s guy leave a steak or something on her doorstep?” Stephanie asked as she started the treadmill up again. “Maybe the lamb chop was your orc’s way of apologizing or trying to patch things up.”
I considered that. “Ozardidleave Jordan steaks on her doorstep. But I can’t see Eng doing that even if I hadn’t made it clear to him that there would be no more booty calls and that he should forget all about me. He’d not much of a gift-giving guy in my experience.”
“Maybe it’s an orc thing,” Stephanie mused. “He’s trying to win you back into his bed or something. Don’t do it girl. Don’t give in to the siren call of the big magical schlong. Nothing but danger lies down that path.”
“Don’t I know it.” I started up my treadmill. “Enough about my shitty love life. How are things with you?”
“My love life is non-existent, which is a step above shitty. This afternoon I’m looking at a barn-to-business conversion job that I’m super excited about. It’s a bank barn that was built in 1807 and was in use for hay storage and milking until about thirty years ago when the farm was sold off to developers.”
I grimaced. “I’m surprised it wasn’t torn down.”
“Me too,” Stephanie said. “The builder broke off twenty acres with the house and barn and sold it outside the development. It wasn’t enough land to support a dairy farm, or really anything besides a hobby farm. The owner leased out the acreage to a local farmer for hay and used the barn as storage and a garage. The new owners want to turn the barn into a winery with a store and a tasting room that’s big enough to house events. They’re planting vines and wildflower gardens with paths and a place for outdoor concerts.”
“Agri-tourism is a big thing,” I said with a nod. “Isn’t zoning going to be an issue though?”
“Luckily, no. The property was still zoned agriculture from when it was a farm and the developer kept it at that zoning. There has been huge lobbying from the farmers’ groups to allow for agriculture business under their zoning to keep farms profitable and reduce the number that are sold to development, so the winery is a go. The only hitch is the new owners need to get a permit each time they have events over a certain number of people, but that’s not my problem.”
“What are your plans for the barn?” I asked.
Stephanie grinned. “The thing still has the original chestnut beams in it. You should see them. They’re huge! I’m going to preserve as many of them as possible, and cover the metal support posts with reclaimed barn siding to hide them and make them look rustic and original. The metal siding is going to go, but the tin roof is staying. The concrete floor in the lower half where the milking stalls were is a horrible mess. I’m looking forward to taking a jack hammer to it and replacing it with local flagstone.”
My worries drifted away as I listened to Stephanie gush about her work. The woman loved her job. And I loved mine too. This contract with the Tusks was the opportunity I needed to really make a decent living as a trainer, and I wasn’t going to let my hurt over Eng get in the way of that.
And as for the leg of lamb…I had plans for that as well. Tomorrow was Sunday dinner at my parents’ house—featuring lamb.
29
ENG
I’d found the slip of paper with the phone number on it, but the shrew, Willa, had not returned any of my texts. Worried that I’d misread the dusty note I’d found half under the stove, I nearly called Ozar to confirm that this was actually her number. Nearly. My pride stopped me at the last minute, so instead I called the number. It was Willa’s voice on the recording. I didn’t leave a message. After the beep sounded, my ability to speak vanished, leaving me to gape at my cell phone like a dying fish before panicking and disconnecting the call.
Three text messages and a weirdly silent voice mail message. She was going to think I was insane, that I’d turned into a begging, worthless fool.
Iwasa begging worthless fool.
How could I have been so blind? Ozar had worked to win Jordan over. He’d investigated the ways humans wooed and courted. He’d asked her what she liked, what she wanted for her future and created a life that satisfied them both. I’d just focused on ensuring Willa was pleased in the furs and that we both enjoyed our dates, but I ignored the rest. I knew how important her family was to her, but I’d never expressed the slightest bitof interest in meeting them. Her job helping others reach their fitness and athletic goals was admirable, but I never followed up with questions about specific clients, or asked her whatherfitness and athletic goals might be.
It had been superficial interest, not the deep sort of connection I truly wanted with her. And now it might be too late. Would I lose my princess before I could even put the crown on her head? Judging from the silence my text messages and leg of lamb gift had brought, it seemed Ihadlost her, but maybe not for good. Maybe there was still a chance I could win her back.
It was time to swallow my pride and reach out to Bwat for help. He’d had good ideas for Ozar, so he should be able to assist me in winning Willa back. And he owed me for punching me at McHenry’s last night.
Locking the door of my hovel behind me, I headed for the arena.
And found a meeting just about to begin.
