Page 23 of My Orc Package Deal

“Dad! Where’s the football?”

Jay skidded to a halt on the blanket, sending a fine spray of sand over everything. The spell shattered.

“Jay, for heaven’s sake, sand!” Kesha’s voice was sharp but fond. She knelt, brushing grit off the towels with an efficiency that was all mom.

Thank the gods.

The interruption—a wrong note in an out-of-control melody—gave me the precious seconds I needed to gain control of my Kteer and my cock. I yanked a beach chair open—an XXL monstrosity that was thankfully ample camouflage—and sank into it, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Kesha found the football and tossed it to Jay. “Go find your brother. And don’t tackle anyone who isn’t expecting it.”

He was gone again in a flash, grinning hugely.

Laughing, Kesha dusted off her hands and flopped into the chair beside me. An awkward silence fell between us, filled only by the sounds of the ocean and the distant shrieks of our children. I reached into the cooler, my movements stiff.

“Margarita?” I asked, holding out one of the canned cocktails I’d bought specifically because I’d seen her enjoying one last week.

Her eyes widened slightly, a flash of surprise and pleasure. “You remembered.”

“Of course, I did,” I grunted, my voice rougher than I intended.

Our fingers brushed as she took it, and I swear she let hers linger for a fraction of a second against mine. A tiny spark in the face of the inferno I was trying to contain, but it was enough to make my Kteer purr.

I cracked open a beer for myself, the can cool and solid in my trembling hand, and resisted the urge to press it against my forehead.

What was I supposed to say? So, about the fact that I want to pin you to this blanket right here and find out if you taste as good as you smell?

In the distance, Jay launched the football in a perfect, soaring arc that Milo, against all odds, managed to leap up and catch.

Kesha let out a whoop of laughter, the sound pure and joyful, and the suffocating tension in my chest eased.

“I’m still amazed by how good he is at skating,” she said, shaking her head. “Looks like he’s just athletic in general. He told me your little brother plays for the Teal Terrors?”

Safe territory. I could do safe.

I took a long pull of my beer. “Yeah. Kardok. He’s the youngest. When Brak and I moved here from Colorado, he stayed. The team, you know.” I shrugged, the old ache of his absence a familiar pang. “We miss him.”

“Ah,” Kesha laughed, taking a sip of her drink. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she teased me. “So Jay gets his athleticism from your side of the family, then.”

The words were out before I could stop them, a reflex born from a history I hadn’t shared.

“Actually,” I said, my voice suddenly quiet. “Jay’s mother was really athletic.”

Kesha’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “You…never mentioned that. Her.”

Shit.

I realized it too late. The beer, the sun, the way she’d looked in that damn swimsuit—my usual guard was down. I took another swig, the condensation dripping down my fingers. “Guess not.”

She tilted her head, sunlight glinting off her dark curls. “What was she like?”

My Kteer growled a warning to me, and my stomach knotted. I didn’t want to talk about Sharra, not when I felt guilty about not missing her at all. Not when my wife was looking at me expectantly.

I could lie. I could deflect. But Kesha was watching me with those sharp editor’s eyes, like she could see straight through to the parts of me I kept locked away.

“She was…” I exhaled, forcing my voice steady. “Beautiful. You know among orcs, there are fewer females born, right? That means they’re…popular. And Sharra was beautiful,” I finished in a whisper. She knew it.

Kesha’s fingers tightened fractionally around her can. “Sounds like you really⁠—”