Page 37 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy
If I walk through that door, I'll have tothink.Process. Make decisions.
Instead, I walk.
The plaza's small, just a renovated block of storefronts with a central courtyard, but I circle it twice. Orry dozes in the carrier, head lolling against my chest.
Gunther.
Gunther is Ridge.
Ridge is Gunther.
The man I spent one reckless, incredible night with, the man theorcI've spent nine months half-hating, half-mourning, has beenright herethe entire time.
And I didn't recognize him.
How did I not recognize him?
But even as I think it, I know.
The glasses. The posture. Thevoice.
Ridge was all swagger. Gravel. Rough edges.
Gunther is?—
Gunther'sgentle.
Soft-spoken. Careful. The kind of guy who probably color-codes his tax returns and has strong opinions about spreadsheet software.
They're nothing alike.
Except for the dimple.
And the eyes.
And apparently, the DNA.
Orry's his son.
The thought should feel bigger. Earth-shattering.
Instead, it just feels?—
Obvious.
How did I not see it?
Orry's skin. His eyes. The way he smiles.
I chalked it up to generic orc traits. Told myself Ridge was probably some wandering contractor who'd moved on by now.
Never imagined he was—Next door.I stop walking and turn in the middle of the courtyard, staring at nothing.
A couple passes by. Glances at me. Keeps walking. I don't care. Orry stirs, makes a sleepy sound. I press my hand to his back. Feel his tiny heartbeat through the carrier.
What now?
Do I talk to Gunther? Demand answers? Pretend this never happened?No. Can't do that.He knows. The second Orry touched his face, Guntherknew.
