Page 9 of Smitten Pucking Orc

Pivoting on her heel, she’d walked away.

I let her think I’d dismissed her because she wasn’t worth my time. The truth was worse.

She was more than worth it. I wasn’t.

After dragging myself out from beneath the spray and toweling dry, I dressed in workout clothing and did my mobility training and stretches with the staff. Rode the bike for twenty minutes to work out any muscle stiffness. Then I hit the gym, where I burned off whatever this was until it stopped clawing at my ribs.

She worked here now. I’d see her every day.

And I suspected she was going to keep looking through me like I was paint on the walls.

Regret was useless. It didn’t change the past or fix what you broke.

But this? This was worse than regret.

I’d killed whatever she might’ve seen in me that day.

Good. Better she thought I was a shallow player than get close enough to find out the truth—that the jokes were the only thing holding me together. That underneath the grin and the highlight reel saves, there wasn’t much else. Just the weapon my coaches had built, brick by brick, save by save.

She’d dodged a blade.

So why did my chest feel like I’d taken one?

The break room was located on the third floor. Big windows, bright lights, and round tables with oversized chairs. The chefs had been hard at work preparing food for the team.

I pushed through the door, still trying to shake off the weight in my chest.

Ellie sat at a table near the window.

With Veskar.

They weren’t touching or sitting particularly close. Just talking. A plate of food sat in front of her, and she was gesturing with her fork.

Smiling.

And Veskar was leaning back in his chair, his face split with that grin he used when he thought he was being charming.

The growl started low in my chest and erupted from my throat, bringing every conversation in the room to a halt.

Heads turned. Eyebrows lifted. And gazes tracked from me to Ellie.

Veskar’s grin widened. Ellie glanced up before directing her attention back to her plate.

I stalked toward them without a single coherent thought about what I’d do when I got there.

CHAPTER FOUR

ELLIE

Veskar was easy to talk to, which felt like a minor miracle on my second full day on the job.

“—and that’s when Mikael tried to convince Coach that protein powder counted as a vegetable,” he said, leaning back in his chair with his plate balanced on one muscular thigh. “The orc was dead serious. He had a whole argument prepared.”

I laughed, forking up another bite of roasted chicken. “Did it work?”

“Not even a little. The coach made him skate sprints until he admitted he was wrong.”

The break room hummed with conversation, dozens of people who spent most of their waking hours together talking all at once. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching on the purple accents scattered throughout the space. Team logos. Framed photos of playoff runs. A banner from two seasons ago when they’d made it to the finals.