Still, nothing. She didn’t pop by his ranch and the few times he managed to catch a glimpse of her in town, she’d immediately hop into her truck and speed away, leaving a cloud of sweet vanilla scent in her wake.
He wanted to think it wasn’t just him she was avoiding, but he’d grown steadily more certain that was the case. While she wasn’t exactly a fixture in town, he heard she’d gone over to the Rione Clan’s homestead for lunch several times, and Suhana, the youngest Rione daughter, had regular movie nights at Nelly’s cottage.
People in town thought she was strange, to be sure, but she made conversation in the general store and occasionally had dinner at the lone restaurant. Nelly was no social butterfly, but shedidspeak to folks.
Just not him, for whatever reason. Her closest neighbor. The guy everyone else liked. The lone Wilson still in town.
The orc who also happened to be completely infatuated with her.
One look from atop the hill that separated their land and he’d been… well, stuck. She’d been working in her little garden in hot pink mini shorts, her short brown hair pulled up into a stubby tail with a sparkly scrunchie, and her arms streaked with dirt. A pop song blasted from inside the cottage. She’d shimmied to it as she worked, the pink laces of her incongruously sensible work boots flapping.
His first impulse had been to steer his horse down the hill at a gallop, snag her around the waist, and— well, he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do after that, but the discomfort of his cock straining against the fly of his jeans gave him a pretty good idea.
Luckily he hadsomemanners. You didn’t just ride up to a stranger’s doorstep with a hardon. It was awfully presumptuous. Good manners required him to at least bring a plate of biscuits or something, too.
So he’d ridden home, his heart racing faster than his horse’s hooves and his cock pinched behind his fly something fierce, and sprayed himself with a hose to clear off some of the sweat and horse smell from his skin. Then he’d thrown on a t-shirt, grabbed a jar of preserves from the cabinet, and driven his truck back down to her cottage.
Of course, she hadn’t been there. All that was left of her was her sweet scent and her little boot prints in the freshly turned earth.
She’d avoided him at every opportunity so far, but he had a good feeling about today.
There was a nasty storm blowing in, which meant she’d almost certainly be home, hopefully tucked safe and warm in front of her fire. There’d be no avoiding him this time. And to grease the wheels a bit, he’d brought her a Moon Gift. Who could say no to that?
Besides,he thought, frowning at the increasingly violent eddies of snow battering his windshield,it’ll make me feel better to stop by and make sure she’s all ready for the storm.
The reports said it was going to be a nasty one, so he’d bolted everything down, got his mare all nice and cozy with her autofeeder and heater on, and stocked up on essentials. He just hoped she had, too, or else he’d be forced to insist on her staying at the ranch until it passed.
Not that it’d be such a hardship.Clark shifted restlessly on the cracked leather bench seat of his old pick-up. It’d be awfully nice to have an excuse to get the wily witch all cozy in the house.
As the vague, grayed-out shape of her cottage finally began to materialize at the end of the road, Clark sighed at the mental image he’d conjured: his pretty witch tucked under a blanket in front of a fire, preferably dressed in one of his old flannels and nothing else, as he settled in behind her, two cups of cocoa in hand. He’d give her graceful neck a kiss as she reached around to take one from him. And then he’d—
“Whoops, slow down there,” he muttered, lifting his boot off of the gas as he drove over an icy rut in the gravel road. He frowned. It was the third icy patch he’d driven over since crossing her property line.I told her to have that fixed before winter or else it’ll fill with water and freeze over.
She clearly hadn’t done it, or maybe didn’t know how, which bothered him. What if she drove out in bad weather and lost control of her truck? Did she even know how to drive in snowy conditions? This was rural Orclind. They didn’t have fancy smart roads or autonomous vehicles like other territories. She couldn’t rely on those things to keep her safe.
His stomach turned over at the idea of finding her big work truck wrapped around a tree someday.
Making a mental note to mention it to her, he slowed his speed until he could make out the shape of her truck parked beside the cottage. It was already covered in snow.Good. Hope that means she’s hunkered down.
Killing the ignition, Clark took a second to check his hair in the mirror before he shoved his hat down on it.Nothing in my teeth? Check. Hat on straight? Check. Gift?He reached over to grab it from the passenger’s side of the bench.Check!
A giddy sort of nervousness overtook him as he tipped the brim of his hat low over his eyes, hoping to block out the worst of the flurries as he hustled over to the front door. It didn’t do him much good.
As soon as he opened his door, he was blasted by icy wind and snow. “Well, shit,” he complained, hastily shoving his gift inside his coat. “Didn’t think it’d bethisbad.”
The realization that the storm was moving in faster than he anticipated only made him more antsy.Best make sure my witch has all she needs.
Drawing his hat down even further and hunching his shoulders against the wind, Clark jogged around the tailgate of her truck toward the tiny covered porch attached to her cabin. There weren’t any windows on the front of the cabin, so he couldn’t see inside, but a strip of warm light was barely visible beneath the door.
She’s home!Clark’s heart beat so fast, it jammed itself up in his throat.
One enthusiastic hop later and he was on the porch. Giving himself a good, hard shake to get the worst of the snow off, he raised a hand to knock on the door.
“…fine, Mom. I know. I really— It’s okay. I’m not sad.”
He paused, frozen by the sound of her voice. It was muffled by the door and the howling wind, but he had good ears. He could hear her just fine. He could also hear that she was… crying? Or had been crying. There were definitely tears in her voice when she continued, “No, I don’t want you andPapáto cancel your trip. You should enjoy yourselves. I’m fine, I promise.”
She didn’tsoundfine. Even when she began to speak in quick, fluid Spanish, he had no trouble picking up the hitch in her breathing, nor that particular nasally note that came with tears.
