Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

BILLIE

A ll I had asked him was what he was doing in our tribe, and he clammed up and got weird. We had been having a good conversation, maybe even leaning toward flirting, and now he looked uncomfortable. Something about why he was here had made him feel uncomfortable. I was puzzled about this while the silence grew.

Unsure of what to do next, I went with what I knew—humor. "Okay, you don't want to tell me why you're here. Are you a spy?" I raised my brows at him in question.

"No—no. Definitely not." He looked horrified.

"Definitely something a spy would say." I tried to say it with a straight face, but I broke and started laughing. "Okay, if you aren't a spy, why can't you tell me why you're here?"

"It's just a whole bunch of personal baggage that no one needs to hear," he mumbled, not looking me in the eye.

Ahh, okay. Bartender mode activated. I was used to many a patron unloading their trauma on me. People I didn't even know would pour their hearts out to me. I was a therapist paid in tips.

Steve needed someone to listen to and had stumbled across the perfect person. "Well, I am here and willing to listen. This is a judgment-free zone. Trust me, in my line of work I have heard some crazy shit. Hit me with it."

"Half of that was slang, wasn't it?" he asked, giving me a grin.

"Sure was. You'll get used to it. Now I can tell you need to talk, and I am here to listen." I nestled my chin in the heels of my palms as if I had all the time in the world to wait for him to open up.

I was fascinated by this half-orc. It must have been really interesting to grow up with a human mother and an orkin father—and be the only one of his kind. I wanted to know more about him. And it didn't hurt that he wasn't bad to look at, either.

"Okay, okay," he began reluctantly. "I'm the only half-orc in my tribe. Both my parents have passed away, and I never truly fit in. Discovering humans had arrived here and escaping my parents' expectations motivated me. My mom, who missed Earth, taught me about it—Halloween, pop-tarts, music, and electricity. She loved my dad and me, but the realization she could never return home weighed on her." He continued, and I nodded in encouragement. "After her death, I felt even more adrift. My protective father kept me from exploring. I'd ask to go to the beach to honor her memory, but he would tell me it wasn't safe. Only when he passed did I consider the idea of leaving to see what else was out there."

"You're carrying guilt," I said.

His brows furrowed. "How did you know?"

"Well, your parents' passing freed you, yet you feel guilty for wanting more than your tribe offers," I explained.

Steve's jaw dropped. "Are you a mind reader?" he asked.

"Yep. Mind reading." I managed to say it with a straight face.

"Really?" Steve asked, eyes wide, putting the boyish look back on his face.

"Yep. All humans can do it. So you better be careful with what you think about around all these human women," I said, leaning back in the bar chair and raising my brows.

Steve blushed green and looked down, directly at my wet boobs. Immediately realizing he had made things worse, he looked up at me, horrified, and even more green.

"I wasn't—I'm not thinking—well, now I am!" he cried.

I couldn't help but bust up laughing, "No, no. No one on Earth can fucking mindread. Sorry, I will stop teasing you for a bit, but only because you just bared your soul to a complete stranger. And then accidentally checked out my tits."

Steve breathed a sigh of relief as I let him off the hook, but he was very focused now, keeping his eyes on my face. "Okay, so if you aren't a mind reader, how did you manage to figure me out in one conversation?"

"I was a bartender back on Earth. I served alcohol to people. It doesn't teach you mind reading, but it does teach you how to read people. They'll confess their deepest secrets over a drink." I toyed with the empty, long-forgotten bar glass that was on the table between us, thinking about my old patrons. I wondered what it would be like to serve orkin.

"And people just open up to you because they are drinking?" He seemed confused.

"I just listen. It's that simple. Most people—or orkin—just need someone to listen to them. It sounds like you need to decide what you want. I am working on the same thing." I finished, feeling as if he'd just shared so much of himself I could give him a bit of understanding of me.

"You aren't happy with Fyrifírar?" he asked, brows raised.

"I'm not unhappy. I just need time to settle. This very bizarre abduction has given me time to figure out what I want, but it's still been really different from what I'm used to. So, you and I are kind of in the same place," I said truthfully.

The cogs in my mind were whirring. This orc was new to our tribe, looking for a purpose. I was on the same trajectory and could use the help getting the bar back in operating order. Maybe having him stay would be good. I found that working with my hands let my mind wander and figure things out.

I made up my mind. "Would you want to stay here for a while? All of the girls are still figuring out their new lives. You can figure it out with us," I offered. Also, I would love help with the bar. Maybe this unexpected and surprisingly wet—"I couldn't myself "—meeting could benefit both of us.

"That would be… really, really great. I don't know how my tribemates would feel about staying." His face went from hopeful to downcast as if his friends would ruin his chance to finally figure himself out.

"Then fuck ‘em," I said, leaning back in my chair.

Maybe Steve was just as lost as I felt, needing time and space away from home to figure out what he really wanted and who he really was.

I assessed him, wondering if he ever got the chance to just be. "If they're your friends, they will know you are going through something, and this is what you need. If they aren't, then why do you care what they think?"

"You make it sound much easier than it is," he said ruefully.

"I've been burned too many times to let myself get hung up on what other people expect of me. I still get nervous about it, but at the end of the day, I need to do what is best for me. It's hard, especially if you feel like you might need to take a different path from your friends or family members. Hell, I nearly had a meltdown telling the head cook I wanted to open a bar instead of chopping potatoes for her. But I did it."

"You'd let me help?" Steve asked.

"Well, if it were completely up to me, I'd put you to work now. But we need to check in with Agnarr. This is above my pay grade. You'd have to go to the boss for that kind of permission."

"Will you just say normal words?" he huffed.

"Mmm… no." I smiled brightly. "But I will take you up on your offer to help if Piper and Agnarr are okay with you staying." Still twirling the glass in my hand, I realized Steve's showing up might have solved many of my concerns in one fell swoop. I had an eager and willing orc to help me with my bar.

"Do you think they would be?"

"Well, they just took in twelve human refugees. I don't think they'd turn down an orc willing to do manual labor." I laughed. "We can talk to them about it at dinner tonight. I'll even stand next to you so you don't get nervous. Speaking of which," I said, looking out the window, "the sun is starting to set. We should get dry clothes before heading to dinner."

We both stood, and he looked at me thoughtfully, "You're the first human I have had a real conversation with outside of my mom."

"And? Do we live up to the expectation you built in your head?"

He pursed his lips as if thinking it over.

"Hey! I just gave you some solid life advice!" I cried.

He laughed. A hearty booming laugh that made me feel warm down to my toes.

"Yes, you live up to expectations. I think maybe I have made my first human friend?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yes." I nodded, finding the concern in his voice adorable. "You have made your first human friend. Now go get some fresh clothes for dinner."

Steve headed out of the bar, brow furrowed. How would working with him on this project go? I'd flirted with some of the orkin from the tribe but hadn't built a solid foundation with any of them outside of Agnarr and Osif. Agnarr was very much taken, and Osif was at least thirty years older than me. I loved working with him. He reminded me of my grandpa.

Steve's vulnerability struck a chord within me. He was one of the most open orkin I'd met here. Like me, he was adrift. Where I was struggling to fit into a new world, he straddled two cultures, trying to find where he belonged. But something about those hazel eyes, warm with laughter, fascinated me. After everything he must have gone through, always being different, the only half-orc in so many tribes, he still smiled and still wanted connection and understanding.

Was making friends with a male orc a good idea? I was a flirt by nature, and this often led to men thinking I was up for anything, and in the past—I was. Casual hookups were fun and easy until someone (usually me) expected more, and things got complicated. I shook my head. Steve was too innocent to be a casual thing. Or anything for that matter. Based on his dad's protective nature, I doubted he had much experience with females. But I could be a friend, a confidant. I'd been around the block too many times to think of him otherwise. What was I getting myself into? This might be a bad idea.