Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

BILLIE

I f I could cut it slinging drinks back on Earth on busy summer weekends, how hard could running a bar on an alien planet really be? It was almost time for lunch in the longhouse, but I was still inspecting the property—was this where I would find my place in the tribe? Agnarr wasn't wrong when he told me the bar was in a state of disrepair. Being one of the leaders of the tribe, he gave me permission to scope the place out on the very edge of the village, with the giant furutrés at its back, the inside covered in a thick layer of dust. One of the double doors hung off its hinges, and many of the windows had busted panes. Agnarr said it had been empty for years. The original owners had passed away, and no one had stepped in to run the business. When I inquired why it wasn't located in the center of town, with the rest of the businesses, I was informed that when it was in its prime, it was too loud for the shopkeepers who lived above their shops. I guess that was something drunk orcs had in common with drunk humans—raucous revelry at best, bar fights at worst.

I stalked around the interior, examining the state of the tables and chairs. It looked as if they were still in the same place they'd been the day the bar closed. It made me think of one of those old-timey saloons in ghost town tourist traps in the middle of the desert. Fyrifírar had no restaurants. Everyone ate communally. But they'd had a bar. I could work with a bar. Back on Earth I'd started at my restaurant as a runner and worked my way up to head bartender. I'd never really thought about opening my own bar, but I'd also never anticipated being abducted by aliens and dumped on a planet of orcs, either.

Yet here I was.

I hummed to myself. Could I make this work? During our previous project of redoing Piper and Agnarr's home, I'd made good friends with the Osif, the older orc in charge of all the building and woodworking in the tribe. He was a gruff old orc with a soft spot for me. He could take charge of the more complicated repairs. Cleaning the building would be no problem. Getting rid of years of grime and dust would take a lot of work, but I was up for the challenge. If I could clean puke out of the bathroom grout of my old bar, I could do this. I needed to get out of the kitchen and figure out what I would do with this new life that had been dropped in my lap. I wasn't going to waste it making giant pots of gautr. Also, if I was really honest with myself, I missed the interaction with the public. I wanted to take this new life on Niflheim by the horns and do what I wanted. I had been happy enough on Earth, but I was stagnating. I wasn't going anywhere. I'd never really had a time in my life where I wasn't just focused getting by day-to-day and making rent.

I poked around behind the bar, finding the usual storage. I was surprised to find a full kitchen. It needed some repairs, but had everything I would need to do food as well. Maybe I could do appetizers? No one paid for food here, so I'd have to talk with Runa, the head cook. There were stairs off the kitchen that I climbed carefully. They creaked under my feet, and I wasn't certain about the rickety railing under my hand. I reached the landing to find that the loft above the bar had been converted into a large room. A large, decrepit-looking bed was in the corner along the back wall. I was surprised. Agnarr hadn't mentioned that the owner slept above the bar. Thinking back, though, most of the shopkeepers in town lived above their shops. Could I live above a bar? My bar?

I turned and headed back down the stairs, deciding that was a question for another day. I carefully left the bar, using the one good door, and made my way to the longhouse, where lunch would be almost over. Leaving the kitchens to work toward a fragile dream was a bit overwhelming, considering all the changes that had happened in my life. I'd been on Niflheim for almost four of their months. I'd given up trying to figure out if time and space lined up exactly like they had on Earth. I was comfortable. The women I'd arrived with had become like sisters, and we all lived in the same row of rooms and shared a large communal bathroom. I never went to college, but some other girls said it was similar to dorming. I loved being around people, and there was always someone to talk to too late.

We were still finding our way in the tribe—figuring out how our Earth skills and interests transferred over to Niflheim. Some of the girls had it easier than others. Like Ruby. She was a nurse back home, and she'd set up shop with the tribe's healer, Emla. She found her place. The same with Liv. She'd been a veterinarian back home. The carers of the hestrs were very enthusiastic about her arrival. While I found the eight-legged horse-looking creatures a bit weird, there was no denying they were cute. Yet there were others, myself included, who didn't come with a skillset that transferred immediately. The bulk of my career had been spent learning the intricacies of restaurant and bar life. Now, I lived in a tribe that only ate communally. Cool.

It wasn't until I discussed wanting to do more than represent the humans at the tribal meetings and help out with Runa in the kitchen that Agnarr mentioned the empty bar. I almost shrieked when he explained that his dad had talked about the bar fondly when he was a kid. As the jarl of the tribe, Agnarr happily gave me permission to take over the bar.

When I peppered Agnarr with questions about the bar, he told me he had memories of his dad coming home laughing and smelling of mead. When I asked why he hadn't mentioned it before, he said it had been abandoned for so long and that he'd completely forgotten about it. To be fair, he was so sickeningly wrapped up in Piper that I was surprised he remembered anything. It was adorable and depressing. I'd never been in a serious relationship back home and I definitely hadn't met anyone on Niflheim yet.

Now, here I was, wondering if I could make the jump from bartender to bar owner. Barmaid? Barkeep? I needed something to get my mind off the whole "mate" situation that hung over my head. I was still of two minds about the Elska mate situation. Part of me was thrilled to discover that orcs—or orkin—as they called themselves, had fated mates. If my own fated mate was out there, I wouldn't have to swipe right on endless profiles and have inane conversations with men who would try to be witty and fun for approximately three messages and then ask for nudes. The other part of me was worried about ending up with a "fated" mate that ended up being a total douche canoe. Divorce didn't seem to happen here.

But none of the male orkin had caught my attention so far. Once you got past the physical differences, like green skin and tusks, they were appealing. They were all ripped and more than a foot taller than me. The raw masculinity wasn't something you could ignore. They made human men look tiny and pathetic. I got the feeling none of them would have any trouble taking me up against a wall. I'd always wanted to date a guy that could take control physically. But I had been burned too many times to hook up with someone just because I found them attractive. So far, I'd kept them all at a distance. I didn't want to risk striking up a conversation with one of them and then have them thinking I was considering them as an option. They seemed very serious about the whole mating situation. Mate bonds couldn't form if I didn't get to know anyone. I wasn't opposed to a mate but didn't feel ready yet. Maybe once I figured out my place in the tribe.

My work helping Runa in the kitchens kept me with mainly females. While Runa's sous chef, Ottar, was very nice to look at, I noticed Joey choosing to work alongside him rather than me with increasing frequency. Besides Piper, Agnarr's mate, Joey was one of my best friends. She was a tiny Japanese woman with a filthy sense of humor, who, like me, was estranged from her family. We both felt we lacked a place where we fit in the tribe, so we joined each other in working in the kitchen.

I wasn't sure what was going on with her and Ottar, but I wasn't going to ask questions until she was willing to share. Aside from him, most of the kitchen staff was either female or at least twenty years older than me. Given how excited the tribe was for new females, I wanted this to be the time when someone finally pursued me, and I was ready to wait for that to happen. At least, I thought I was.

I sighed as I pushed open the door to the longhouse. I could wait. I'd been single for twenty-six years on Earth. What was a few more on Niflheim?

The longhouse was a riot of noise and smells, packed to the brim with everyone enjoying their meal. I hustled over to my usual table to find many of my friends still seated. I was also delighted to find Piper and Agnarr had joined us. Agnarr and Piper tended to rotate around the tables so that everyone felt they got equal time with the jarl and jarlin. Though Piper hid it well, I knew her favorite place to eat lunch was actually at home, with just Agnarr or a handful of others. She was getting used to being herself in front of the entire tribe, and I was proud of her.

I sat down, and she greeted me with a breezy smile and a plate of food. "I figured you'd get caught up looking around the bar. Did you like what you saw?" She handed me a set of cutlery and a napkin. Mothering without even realizing it.

"Ha, I did get caught up. I have some questions about it that I was hoping Agnarr could answer," I responded, taking a sip of water. Now that I realized there was a bar, I was realizing other things. Water was always the beverage served in the longhouse unless it was a celebration—like Agnarr and Piper's wedding—and then they served berry-flavored mead. Hmm… that information would come in handy. I turned to Agnarr.

"You said the bar closed when the old owners died, but you didn't tell me they lived above it." It was a statement more than a question, but I wanted more information.

"I guess I didn't think of it," he mused. "It's typical of shopkeepers to live above their shops here, so I didn't realize it was out of the norm."

"It didn't get too loud for the owners? Living above a bar?"

"Hmm, that is something you'd have to ask one of the older tribesmembers," Agnarr said. "Astrid or Runa, or even Osif would remember. I don't remember Breya and Finnr very well. They passed before my parents did, so I couldn't tell you about life living above a bar. But, I don't know, Billie—that sounds like it might be right up your alley." Agnarr grinned at me.

He did have a point. I had already garnered a reputation for being the life of the party amongst the new women. A loud, vibrant life fit me. I loved meeting new people and having conversations with strangers. It was part of a bartender's life—to dig in deep immediately.

"I do love being surrounded by a raucous crowd." I smiled shyly.

"We can tell," Piper responded. "I think this would be a good fit for you," she said, grabbing my hand.

"I also noticed that there was a full kitchen in the back of the bar," I said. "Did they serve food?"

"Já, I don't remember how that worked," answered Agnarr. "That is another conversation to have with Runa."

I tapped my fingers against my lips thoughtfully. A conversation with Runa was easily done. I saw her every morning for my kitchen work. The tiny cook was well past retirement age but didn't want to give up her domain. Ottar was willing to let her decide on her terms, quietly taking on more responsibility. I could see him taking over in the next year. I wondered what her memories were of the bar.

"So is it settled, then?" asked Joey, who'd been listening in. "Our new hang is going to be Billie's Bar?"

"Ew, gross," I groaned. "Even if I do it, I am not naming it after myself. That's terrible."

"I don't know, I think it sounds cute. You've got the whole alliteration thing going for you. Billie's Bar would be fun!" Piper gave me a teasing smile.

"No, no. We can come up with something much better."

"Come on," Joey whined. "Billie's Bar, Billie's Bar, Billie's Bar." She started chanting, with all the other women at the table joining in.

I dragged my hand down my face in defeat. There was no stopping a group of women with an idea. I rolled my eyes and smiled at the women all looking at me enthusiastically.

"You all better be ready to get your hands dirty and help make Billie's Bar happen," I said, putting my hands on my hips and giving them my best scowl.

The table erupted in cheers, and I laughed. I was a pushover. Piper hugged me and whispered into my ear, "We can find you a way out if you don't actually want to do this."

Piper was so considerate she would hate to be dragged into something like rebuilding a bar. I smiled, hugging her back. "I don't know, what do you think?" I whispered.

"I think if anyone can pull this off, you can," she said as she released me.

With the decision seemingly made, the table started to empty as people finished their meal. I had barely touched mine because of all the bar talk, so I hurried up with my lunch before heading back to the kitchens.

Billie's Bar. I could get used to that.