Oh, she’d heard great things about him in town. He was everyone’s favorite neighbor, the apple of every granny’s eye, and drinking buddies with all the surly old farmers. He helped with chores without asking and liked to babysit so parents could get a night to themselves.
He was so well spoken of that she’d actually been a little excited, if nervous, to meet him. A gorgeous, kind, funny orcish neighbor whoalsohappened to be single? It was every single person’s dream, or at least the start of a gooey romcom script.
Except she didn’t get her romcom.
Her first experience with her neighbor was a hastily scrawled note on her door complaining about the rundown state of her cottage and a passive aggressive offer to “help out” if she couldn’t “manage it”. The butterflies that had fluttered in her stomach at the sight of his name died a quick death.
Her firstinteractionwith Clark had been from behind her parked truck as she loaded in groceries. He’d walked out of the bar next door with another one of the younger farmers and said, “…well, I don’t think the witch’ll last long without help. Have youseenher?”
Have you seen her?
He’d said it with so much bafflement, like he really couldn’t believe— well, she had no idea what he found so repulsive or unworthy about her appearance, but the intensity of his tone was enough to send her scurrying into her truck, her eyes smarting with stupid tears.
Things only got worse after that. Clark seemed determined to remind her at every opportunity that she wasn’t welcome in town and that she was doing a piss poor job of making her new life work.
He continued to leave notes on her door criticizing her home. He frequently tended the fence that bisected their properties, as if he worried she’d sneak over if a board was out of place. He singled her out at community events by asking around if “the witch” would be attending and teasingly interrogated Suhana about how she’d managed to make friends with Nelly like she’d tamed a skunk or something.
Her orcish neighbor, more or less universally beloved and acclaimed for being the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, despised her. As much as that hurt her feelings, she’d knuckled down and moved on, determined to never engage with him if not absolutely necessary.
Beyond watching him ride around on his massive horse, shirtless and beautiful, every day. Of course. Shewasonly human, after all.
So far, she’d done pretty well ignoring his existence, all things considered. That was until he drove his truck into a tree on her property.
Half climbing into the old truck, Nelly strained to give his arm a shake. “Clark.Clark.Please wake up. I need you to tell me if my gutters are full or my tire pressure is low or I’m bad at my job. C’mon, man.”
It was with great relief that she watched his chest rise and fall, but that was where his signs of life ended. Clark didn’t stir even when she gave the rock-hard muscle of his thigh a good, sharp pinch.
Shit, shit, shit.There would be no rescue until the storm died down, which could take days. Leaving him wasn’t an option, but how exactly could she drag at least two hundred pounds of virile orc flesh back to her cottage?
Nelly eyed the steering wheel, then shifted her gaze to the windshield. A spiderweb of cracks had formed in the glass, but it hadn’t shattered. From the inside at least, it didn’t look like there was too much damage, but it was impossible to say with the amount of snow covering the front of the truck.
There really wasn’t much of a choice. Either she hauled him back to the cabin in his truck or she walked all the way back to get her own. Considering hers came with snow tires and all the new safety tech, she much preferred the second option. However, that also required moving him into it, then also hefting him into the cottage.
Without knowing the extent of his injuries, that was a very, very risky plan.
Nelly let out a sharp breath.Right. Gotta try, then.
She was even more convinced that trying to use his truck was the best plan when she attempted to shift him over on the bench. Clark weighed aton.Passed out, he was all dead weight, which made maneuvering even his tree trunk-sized legs out of the way incredibly difficult. She could hardly imagine how hard it would be to get him out of the truck, let aloneintoanother one.
The cold and exertion made her clumsy, but eventually she managed to scoot him over enough to hoist herself up into the cab. With him sprawled out, it was a tight fit, but she needed to sit at the every edge of the bench to reach the pedals anyway, so it worked.
“Okay,” she huffed, gingerly attempting to turn the old fashioned key in the ignition. After a few ugly sputtering sounds, the truck rattled to life without blowing up, which she counted as a big win.
Her gaze slid to the side when Clark made a low sound in the back of his throat — a hoarse moan of pain. His eyelids twitched and as she watched, he turned his head on the bench, angling it toward her.
Nelly swallowed hard and then squeaked, “You awake?”
Clark didn’t answer. He remained passed out but tense, his brow furrowed and his gloved fingers clenched into fists.
Definitely in pain.Lips flattening into a grimly determined line, Nelly faced forward again.
“Don’t you fall on me, tree,” she growled, shifting the gear into reverse and slowly,slowlypressing her foot down onto the gas. There was a small lurch, but no real movement. Sweating in earnest now, she pressed a little more.
Nothing happened until, with a terrible metallic tearing sound, the truck slid free of the snowbank. Packed snow crashed down on the roof and hood of the truck from the pine’s shaken branches.
“We can do this, cowboy. We can do this,” she chanted, mostly to herself, as she inched the rattling, sputtering vehicle back onto what she hoped was the road.
Clark’s only answer was another soft moan.
