Chapter 1

Jess

Okay,you know when you're watching a movie and the main character is about to do something really embarrassing, so maybe you put your hand over your eyes—as if it'll help—but you still kinda peek through your fingers?

Yeah, go ahead and start doing that now, because here's something truly cringe-worthy.

It was a clear evening in late April, and I was outside in just my robe, calling for my Muffin.

This is not a euphemism.

I had literally lost a cat, named Muffin, and there I was, barefoot, standing at my overgrown back fence, hissing her name. "Muffin! Muuuuuffin?" Can you imagine it? Not quite loud enough to wake the neighborhood, but still eternally optimistic that this would be the time my pussy would come.

Heh.

Okay, you know what I mean.

She'd gotten out of the house a few days ago, she was only about seven months old, and I was beginning to lose hope she'd ever return.

The little bowls of canned tuna I'd placed strategically around the property had done nothing but attract the marsh racoons.

"Crap," I muttered, pushing myself on my tiptoes to see over the dilapidated fence that ran along the back of my property. The previous owner—or maybe his great-grandfather—had built the thing, and I, treasuring my ignorance when it came to woodworking, hadn't bothered it.

Besides, the thing was overgrown with honeysuckle, and those few glorious weeks each spring when all the flowers bloomed and the whole world smelled delicious made me reluctant to traumatize the plant's trellis.

"Muffin!" I raised my voice, calling into the overgrown thicket which separated my house from the next lot. "I promise, I'll let you sleep on my face for a full month if you come back."

"Well, that's a tempting offer."

Remember what I said about cringe-worthy? Go ahead and start cringing.

I swung around so fast, my fluffy bathrobe fell open, and I made a desperate grab for the edges because I was stark naked beneath it. I hauled it back together while simultaneously attempting to keep from gaping at him.

I probably failed at both, judging from his smirk.

Karnak was my next-door neighbor, and this hadn't been a problem until recently. I mean, it still wasn't a problem, except on my part. The part where I couldn't seem to hold a thought in my head longer than a second when he was around.

The part that took one look at him—standing there all green and gorgeous and slick, wearing only a tiny towel around his waist—and could only think words like lick and taste and yes please.

God help me, but the man was beautiful.

The point was: when I moved to Eastshore four years ago, I hadn't cared who my neighbors were. Sure, the realtor had "warned" me that the guy next door was a loner orc who wanted nothing to do with humans, and that as a young single woman I needed to be careful… But I figured if he kept to himself, I would too.

Then I saw him.

Then I saw him in swimming trunks.

I'm trying not to come off as a creeper here, but yeah, maybe I drank my morning coffee at the front window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him heading to the beach for his daily exercise. Every day.

And here he was, clearly having just stepped from his outdoor shower after his evening swim, looking at me like I was an idiot.

"Hi!" I blurted.

Like an idiot.

Karnak tipped his head to one side, using his chin and one tusk to point toward the back fence. "You missing a muffin?"

Oh God. I felt my face heat as I swallowed a groan. "You heard that?"

"I'd bet Mrs. McGee heard that."

Why did his voice have to sound like melted chocolate? I could handle dealing with my sad, lonely libido if it was just my visual memories he assaulted, but when that low voice turned amused? I knew I'd be remembering that sound tonight when I touched myself, thinking of him.

"I—" What had we been talking about? Or in my case, spluttering about? "I don't think—"

"No, you're right. Judging by how loudly she listens to Jeopardy, I'm assuming she's hard of hearing."

Mabel McGee lived in the small house on the other side of Karnak, and yes, was as deaf as a post.

I could only nod, because I was having trouble following the conversation. What little there was.

See, up until recently, my only interaction with my gorgeous green neighbor was my morning creeping, and that didn't really count. I could always claim I was watching the sunrise, after all. Even if my house did face west.

But during the last hurricane season, one of the palms in my yard had come down, right atop the old wooden fence that separated my backyard from Karnak's. I'd been so busy with my work on the town council, trying to get Eastshore up and running again with a smaller population than we used to have, that I hadn't given any thought to the mess in my own yard.

Until I'd returned home from an exhausting day at work to find that not only had Karnak cut up the tree and hauled it away…he'd done the same to the fence which had separated our properties.

Now nothing stood between our yards.

Nothing hid my back porch—my hot tub—from him.

Nothing hid his outdoor shower from me.

And after his morning swims, I was in full danger of seeing him mostly naked, wet, and ohmygod was that a bulge under his towel? It was.

"Hi!" I blurted again.

Was it my imagination, or did his lips twitch?

"So, do you need help? With your muffin?" he prompted when it became clear I didn't know what was going on.

My Muffin.

Oh! "Muffin is my cat!"

"Your cat."

I forced myself to quit staring at him—it was easier to think—and gestured toward the bramble behind the honeysuckle. "She's small and black, with one white paw."

Karnak lifted his hands, palms facing one another, about a foot apart. "How small?"

"A little bigger." He really cared? "She's still a baby—or at least, she is to me. I got her because Pickles is getting old and I thought a companion might help."

"Pickles is also a cat?" His hands hadn't moved.

Tucking my robe more securely around myself, knowing I wasn't going to be able to climb into the hot tub any time soon, I nodded toward the large window which overlooked my porch. "She's fourteen, and is also black. I know black cats are considered bad luck, but when I was a girl I heard that meant they never got adopted, and I begged my mom to let me choose one."

The memory caused my throat to tighten, and I shook my head, hating that even after four years, grief could ambush me like that. "Sorry. I'm blathering."

Karnak had folded his arms now, and while part of me was glad that he'd covered up at least a part of that glorious chest, a rather more significant part of me was yelling forearms! Forearms! Forearms!

"How long has your Muffin been out there? Unpetted. Lonely."

Oh God, so long.

Calm down, he's talking about your cat, not your…pussy. "Um…two weeks-ish? A little less. I've put up a bunch of signs, but no-one's seen her. Muffin and Pickles…they're both indoor cats—"

"What does that mean?"

I blinked and shifted my weight from foot to foot, glancing at the black blob on the inside windowsill. "It means they don't go outside."

"Ever?"

He sounded incredulous.

"No, never. Except for Muffin's escape. Pickles has been fixed, but it was too early for Muffin, and then it didn't seem to matter because she stayed inside—"

"You possess an animal that's never been outside?"

I knew a bit about the history of the orcs' assimilation into our world, and I guess I could understand his surprise. "Well," I said meekly, "up until now, at least."

Shaking his head, Karnak strolled toward his back fence, muttering something under his breath. For the first time, I spotted that the honeysuckle hadn't continued onto his property; or perhaps it had just been removed.

In its place, someone had painted the old fence in bright blues and teals and greens; swirls and speckles that somehow managed to look like a galaxy and an ocean all at once.

I suppose I should mention that I had noticed the painted fence prior to this moment; it just hadn't occurred to me that he'd had to pull down the honeysuckle to make room for it.

"You think she's out there?"

His question took me by surprise, but since he was staring out at the thicket behind our houses, my brain took a leap of conjecture. "Yes? I mean, I hope so."

He turned just far enough to quirk one black brow in my direction.

"I mean," I tried to explain, flustered all over again at being the focus of that dark gaze, "that it would be better than the marsh, right?"

He grunted, and I wasn't sure if that was an agreement. "Racoons live in the marsh and the brambles."

My chest grew tight again in sorrow. "Right," I rasped.

"She's probably dead—"

Karnak had been turning toward me as he spoke, and whatever he saw in my face caused him to bite off his words.

"I-I know," I choked, hating the fact that he was probably right.

He was studying me, eyes curious. "Why does this animal's death matter to you? You eat animals. I've seen your grocery order. I've smelled the tuna you've left around your porch."

He'd smelled those? "Sorry," I whispered, wrapping my arms around my middle and fixing my gaze on the distant blob I hoped was Pickles, and not a pile of black laundry thrown over the chair in my living room. "I hadn't realized it was bothering you."

"It's not."

I"m sorry, he'd paid attention to my grocery order?

"Muffin and Pickles…they're my friends. Pets. You know?" I risked a glance at him. "Have you ever had a pet?"

He was staring at me, his expression unreadable. My pulse sped, flickering at my collarbone.

Finally, he shook his head. "I guess I haven't."

Before he'd joined our world…he's probably eaten animals the size and shape of housecats.

I took a deep breath. "I guess…they're like my family. My friends."

"You have other friends."

Was he trying to help, or being deliberately obtuse? "Yeah, and I'd be sad if one of them died, too."

His lips twitched again, more obvious because of the tusks. "Fair."

Was that supposed to be an apology?

Look, if there's anything you should know about Southern girls, it's that we've been raised to apologize. For everything. You bump into me at the grocery store, causing me to spill my coffee? I'm going to apologize to you. A meteorite slams through the roof of your car? I'm going to run over and apologize.

It was something I'd been working on.

As the only person under the age of fifty on the Eastshore Town Council, I couldn't afford to do anything that made shit sound like it was my fault.

Still, I think I could be forgiven for forgetting my recent attempts at standing up for myself. "Sorry," I sighed, allowing my hands to drop by my sides and rolling my shoulders. "I'm just…"

"Worried?" he supplied. "About your Muffin."

"About all sorts of things," I muttered. "I have a big meeting."

He nodded, but said nothing.

I said nothing.

Crickets chirped in the spring dusk, and a whole lotta nothing happened.

This would've been awkward, had I not been actively engaged in staring at his forearms. Did I mention the forearms?

You idiot. You need to say goodnight and go inside. Forget the hot tub! Pour yourself a glass of wine and have a lie down!

Which was, of course, code for masturbate furiously.

To my surprise, he was the one who broke the silence. "What kind of meeting?"

"What?" I blurted, jerking my gaze up to his.

"What kind of meeting?" he calmly repeated, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light.

He…honestly wanted to know?

I struggled to form a coherent explanation. "I'm the Community Development Coordinator for Eastshore, and the day after tomorrow the town council wants me to pitch ideas to save the town."

His brow twitched. "What's wrong with the town?"

He hadn't noticed? "We're the only beach town on this coast experiencing negative population growth, thanks to the ferry situation. With the yarn shop closing, we have three empty storefronts on Main Street. The Public Works Coordinator is pitching that we allow a developer to build one of those high-rise hotels, which would probably solve the problem, but…"

I shrugged, not sure why I was complaining to my hot next-door neighbor.

"But you don't think that's a good idea?" he finished.

"I think…it would completely change the island. We're not that far from the mainland, and the ferry runs regularly. It's part of Eastshore's charm, dammit. I want to—" I took a deep breath. "Sorry. I just want to preserve it."

He nodded. "I wouldn't want to live here if a million people started flocking here. Vacation houses. Tourist traps."

"Exactly!" I agreed gratefully. "It wouldn't be the same island, would it?"

"I like to be left alone."

Oh. Damn. Well, that hadn't exactly been my point. "Sorry." Dammit, I have to get better about the apologizing thing! "I just meant…I want to find a way to save Eastshore without overrunning it with people."

He grunted. "Sounds good to me."

Right. I suppose it would, wouldn't it?

In the four years I'd lived in Eastshore, in the four years I'd worked for the council, I hadn't heard any gossip about Karnak. No one saw him in town, he didn't interact with anyone on the island—not even Cairo, the grumpy orc who'd opened a mechanic's shop over on Conch Street.

My next-door neighbor was a true recluse.

A hot, mostly naked recluse. Who must work from home, because his old junker of a Jeep had grass growing around it.

In the four years I'd lived beside him, this was the longest conversation I'd ever had with him! Even when he'd cut up that tree for me—thank God, because I had no idea how to tackle it—and I'd offered him a hundred bucks to say thank you, he'd done little more than grunt a no and shut the door in my face.

Karnak would probably like Eastshore to die, so he could be alone.

Well, screw that. Screw him!

Yes please.

Wait, no, no, I was mixing metaphors again. I'd burn that bridge when I came to it. "Well, okay, I'd better go!" I announced far too brightly, even while knowing I wasn't fooling him. "Time for bed. Inside. My house."

"You sure you don't want to use your hot tub?" He did that thing again where he tipped his head so one tusk pointed at my porch.

"Nope! Not at all!" He didn't know I'd planned to climb into the hot water and allow the glorious heat to cradle my naked skin and the jets to caress…other bits. "Definitely going inside now. For a—a shower. And a nice crossword!"

Crossword? Jeez, I hadn't done a crossword in years!

His lips twitched again, and he dropped his hands to his hips, his palms resting atop the towel. "Alright then. Enjoy your crossword."

His tone was carefully bland, but I suspected he didn't believe me.

Not that it mattered, because I was already shuffling backward, wincing slightly when my bare heel came down on a pinecone. "Okay! Good chatting, Karnak!"

I'd reached my porch when I heard him softly say, "Sleep well, Jess."

I slammed my back door and pressed my forehead against it.

He knew my name?

Feel free to keep cringing.