All Fired Up

by Kristen Painter

  “Okay!” She gave him a look that was half smile, half scowl. “New topic. Where did you go earlier?”

  “I do not wish to speak of that.” There was no reason to share his humiliation at Freya’s hands.

  “Tell me where you went and I’ll tell you if I’m wearing underwear or not.”

  He grinned at her curiosity. Perhaps he could share a portion. “Freya wished to speak with me.”

  “So she just beamed you up there? That’s kinda rude.”

  “She is Freya.” He shrugged, unable to tell Calleigh how much he agreed with her judgment. Freya would never let that confession go unpunished and he had no desire to see the goddess again this evening. “If the goddess’s actions bother you, we may return to the conversation we were having when she interrupted us.”

  She did not look at him but her cheeks colored. “Yes, I am wearing underwear.”

  He laughed and watched her eyes crinkle as she laughed along with him. The sound of her joy was a heady thing. He wanted to make her laugh again, to see her smile more often. Her eyes glimmered gold and bronze and her mouth curved up like a drawn bow, taut and waiting. That was a smile that gave a man potent dreams.

  “What are those called?” He pointed at the indentations in her cheeks.

  “What?” Her fingers skimmed her cheeks. “Do I have something on my face?”

  “Aye, but they are gone now. I only see them when you smile.”

  “Oh.” She smiled again. “You mean my dimples.”

  “Dimples.”

  “I’d say I hate them, but I got them from my mom.”

  “I like them.”

  “Thanks.”

  She stared at the ground as they walked, obviously embarrassed. Why did a woman this fair feel so uncomfortable with kind words?

  She spoke with a gentle softness. “I take back what I said earlier. You’re not dorky.”

  “What does this dorky mean again?”

  “Oh, look. Here we are.” She waved her hands with a flourish and pointed toward a glass door. “Welcome to Thai’d Up, home of the best curry this side of Bangkok.”

  His brows rose. He understood most of the words she had used but none seemed related to food. He opened the door for her again. “Sometimes, you make very little sense.”

  She smirked. “Stick around, Viking. It’ll come to you.”

  He let her order the meals again, and when the food came, she explained what the dishes held.

  “This is pad thai. It’s noodles with a spicy sauce, some fried egg, bean sprouts, crushed peanuts and in this case, chicken and shrimp. One of my most favorite things to eat. Try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll order you something else.”

  He wrapped the noodles around his fork the same way she did and took a bite. “This is good. I will eat it.”

  “Good. I’m glad you like it. I love it.”

  She smiled again, her dimples showing. Pleasing his other charges had been a chore. Pleasing Calleigh was its own reward. He would eat dirt if it made her happy.

  “I’ve accepted the fact that you’re going to follow me around wherever I go, but we need to talk.” Her smile faded.

  Had he upset her? “I am listening.”

  “Tomorrow night is my Uncle Seamus’s birthday party and I have to go. If you plan on going with me, there are things we need to get straight beforehand.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, for starters, my cousin Jeana. I’d prefer you stay away from her. I’m really upset with her, and I don’t need you drooling all over her like every other man in the—”

  “I do not drool on women.” The very idea repulsed him. It would surely repulse the female.

  “It’s a figure of speech. Just try to ignore her. For me. Okay?”

  “Of course.” As though another woman could draw his attention from Calleigh. “Anything else you wish me to know?”

  “Yes. My uncles are very…protective of me. Ever since my dad died, they’ve taken it upon themselves to fill that role. And they do. More than necessary. They’re gonna be all over you like white on rice.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They’re going to question you to death.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I have fought death matches many times and come out the victor. I am not afraid to fight your uncles.”

  “Whoa, let me rephrase that. They’re going to ask you many, many questions. Questions you can’t answer truthfully or they’ll think you’re crazy and try to have you committed. They’ll want to know what your intentions are, understand?”

  “They will think because I am with you, I intend to bed you.” The thought had certainly occurred to him. More than once. But he was powerless to act unless she asked.

  “Well, that’s one way of looking at it.” A hint of color streaked her cheeks, pleasing him. Perhaps she had thought of it too.

  She rubbed the tip of her nose. “We just need to figure out a story for you, okay? Like where you come from, what you do for a living, where we met, stuff like that.”

  He nodded. “I will say I was born in Dublin, and that I am a shipbuilder. I do not know about the meeting part.”

  She held up her hand. “Hold it right there. My uncles were born in Ireland. You say you’re from Dublin and they’re gonna figure out you’re not from this century in about two beers.” She pushed her food around with her fork.

  “Just say you’re from Norway. It’s not really a lie, you are Norse, and it fits your accent. Sort of. I think the shipbuilder part is fine, although that might lead to union questions…” She sighed and took a sip of water. “We should probably not go there.”

  “As you wish.” He would claim to be a midwife if she so desired.

  “Were you really a shipbuilder?”

  “Aye. Every Viking knows how to build ships.”

  “I guess that explains the body. Now, where are we going to say we met?” She tapped her fork on her plate.

  Did that mean she liked his body? Suddenly, the whole table started shaking. He grabbed the sides and peered beneath it. Her jiggling foot knocked against one of the legs. He glanced back at her. “You are nervous?”

  “Yes. This is stressing me out.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “Don’t say anything about this phoenix business, either, okay?”

  He nodded and let go of the table. It started shaking again. He picked up his fork and aimed for his plate. “Do not worry, Calleigh lass. I was chieftain of a very large clan. I know how to handle men.”

  She stabbed a piece of chicken and lifted the bite to her mouth. Done chewing, she raised her brows, her lips pursed. “You haven’t met my uncles. They could make Genghis Khan cry.”

  Setting his fork down, he leaned forward with great seriousness. “I have met Temüjin, this man you call Genghis Khan. I have never known him to cry.”

  Calleigh rolled her eyes. “Like I said, you haven’t met my uncles.”

  Chapter Five

  Calleigh fumbled with the catch on her jewelry box. Meeting Brad was probably not the best decision she’d ever made but she had to give the ring back. Maybe then her heart could finally let go. And maybe then he’d stop calling.

  She took the little black case from its pale blue outer box and opened it, stealing one last look at the engagement ring. The two-carat solitaire twinkled in the pale morning light, but the magic was gone. Only tarnished promises remained in the platinum circle. It was just a ring. A very expensive ring. And the last thing that bound her to Brad.

  Her hand trembled. She snapped the box shut and tucked it in her purse. Breathe. You can do this.

  In her search through the closet for the right outfit, white plastic crinkled under her fingers. The garment bag covering her wedding dress. She started to unzip the bag just to run her hands over the Italian matte satin, then stopped. What was the point? The dress would never be worn and now it hung in her closet like a ghost, haunting her with the constant reminder of what would never be. Maybe it was time to become a
n eBay seller instead of just a buyer.

  Pushing the dress further back, she grabbed a jean skirt and a black turtleneck. Brad hated denim skirts. “Cowgirl clothes” he called them. She smiled as she stepped into the mini and zipped it up.

  Sounds of Alrik thrashing about in the shower made her wince at the potential mess. Had he remembered to pull the curtain? After a very brief meeting with Brad, during which the Viking would wait in the car, she would take him to the mall and buy him something decent to wear to her uncle’s birthday party. And, she reminded herself, get a present for Seamus. Not an easy task for a man who had everything.

  Brad had been that way, too, but that’s where his similarities to Seamus ended.

  As she applied an extra coat of mascara, her hand started shaking again. Deep breathing didn’t help. The thought of confronting Brad wound her stomach in knots. Confrontation had always been difficult for her, even more so with a man she still had feelings for. No denying it. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  Smoothing the hem of her black turtleneck over the waistband of her skirt, she checked her image in the mirror and sighed. Not teaching dance was bad for the figure. She sucked in her stomach. Better, but she couldn’t walk around all day like that. Some women lost weight when they were stressed out. How unnatural. Why couldn’t they binge on ice cream like the rest of the female population?

  She picked a few stray cat hairs off her black tights as Snickers watched.

  “Don’t give me that look. Coming in here after breakfast doesn’t make up for sleeping out there with him two nights in a row, you little traitor.”

  Snickers rolled over onto his back and stretched, exposing his spotted tummy. She tugged on black riding boots and shook her head at the silly feline. “That’s very cute, but you’re still a traitor.”

  “Who do you speak to?” Alrik stood in the doorway, a towel tucked around his lean hips. His hair hung in damp ropes. Beads of water glistened along his broad collarbone and steam rose in wisps off his bronzed skin. A single droplet rolled down the plane of his chest and over his nicely defined abs before following a fine line of tawny hairs down beneath the towel.

  Oh. My. She swallowed. Twice. He looked like a big, juicy serving of man fruit. That had to be diet food, didn’t it?

  “What?” She couldn’t remember what she’d just been doing.

  “Who is a traitor?”

  “Huh? Oh. Snickers. I called him a traitor for sleeping with you instead of me, like I should be. I mean, like he should be!” She mentally slapped herself on the forehead. Get it together! She followed his gaze and realized he was staring at her legs again, even though they were encased in black tights. Maybe he hadn’t noticed her slip of the tongue.

  “You look very nice.” His eyes never moved as he spoke.

  “Thank you. You look very wet.” Don’t go there, Cal. “I should show you how to use the hair dryer.” If Alrik thought she looked nice, maybe Brad would, too. She wanted that cheater to eat his heart out when she threw his ring at him. Or beg her to come back. Maybe even cry a little. Yeah, crying would be good.

  “Let’s go back to the bathroom and I’ll show you the wonders of modern technology.” She headed for the door but Alrik didn’t move, forcing her to squeeze past. The heat he put off amazed her. A few drops of water from his chest soaked into the shoulder of her turtleneck. An interesting thought about drying off the rest of him popped into her head.

  She glanced back. He was right behind her so she kept going.

  The bathroom wasn’t as big a disaster as she’d anticipated. Nice to know the man wasn’t a slob. She picked up the hair dryer and turned to face him.

  “Okay, this is a hair dryer. It’s pretty simple to use. Just turn it on and hot air comes out. Point it at your hair to make it dry faster. It’s already plugged in so just push this switch up and you’re in business.”

  She turned the dryer on and aimed it at his head.

  Alrik ducked.

  She turned the dryer off. “It’s not going to hurt you, I promise.”

  “Can it also be used as a weapon?”

  “No.” She struggled not to grin. “At least not that I’m aware of. Although you shouldn’t mix electricity and water. Never mind that, I’ll show you how to use it.” She pulled out the small stool tucked beneath the vanity and motioned for him to sit.

  It squeaked as it took his weight, but held. He kept his eyes on the dryer. The towel split when he sat, revealing a thick, muscular thigh and reminding her of just how naked he was underneath that towel.

  Concentrate. “Face forward, please.” The top of his head reached her chest.

  He stared into the mirror, still watching her every move.

  “I use this thing every day, you know. It hasn’t killed me yet,” she promised.

  His shoulders dropped slightly.

  She leaned over him and dug in a drawer for a wide-tooth comb that wouldn’t tug his hair too much. The heat of his shoulder burned straight through her turtleneck to her stomach. Comb in hand, she backed up for better access to his hair. She stopped at the sight of his back. The two wicked scars above his collarbone had a matching set on the other side.

  He’d been pierced through. The thought made her a little sick and she swallowed the sudden nausea. The pain must have been unimaginable.

  She looked up. He still watched her. Something dark shimmered in his eyes. He knew she’d been looking at his scars. No words existed for what she felt. More than anger. More than pain. Helpless to say anything useful, she put her hand on his shoulder. So deliciously warm. “I’m going to turn the dryer on again, okay?”

  He nodded. “I will not move this time.”

  “I’ll be gentle.” She flipped the dryer on and slid the comb through his damp locks, carefully directing the stream of hot air.

  After a few moments, she abandoned the comb and used her fingers. She’d never known a man with such thick, silky hair. Most women would kill for hair like this. The soft gold strands fell through her fingers as the air dried them. She reached for more, starting at the base of his neck and winding her hand upwards. She massaged his scalp, kneading the balls of her fingers over his head.

  She glanced into the mirror. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. She smiled. Having her hair blown dry had the same effect on her. Except Alrik still looked edible. She probably just looked goofy.

  Reluctant to finish, she spent a few minutes more than she needed to. He probably wasn’t enjoying her touch as much as she was enjoying touching him. Sweat trickled down her back. The room had become an inferno. She turned the dryer off. “All done.”

  He took a deep breath and opened his eyes slowly.

  She grinned at his heavy-lidded expression. “I told you I’d be gentle.”

  A lazy smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “You did not tell me that would be so pleasurable.” He stood, pushed the stool back under the vanity and stretched, filling the small, hot space with a sudden expanse of skin.

  “Yeah, it has that effect on me too.” The towel slipped down his hips a fraction. Calleigh backed up, tried not to stare and failed. “I should finish getting ready so we can get something accomplished today.”

  His smile widened. “I agree.”

  She had the distinct feeling he wasn’t talking about their trip to the mall.

  Still flush with the intoxicating pleasure of Calleigh’s hands in his hair, Alrik followed his charge out to her vehicle. At the moment, with the way he felt, he would have followed her anywhere. Especially in that short skirt. His fingers itched to touch the black fabric covering her legs. Was it soft? Silky?

  She paused in front of the vehicle. “Don’t freak out in the car, okay? It goes fast but it’s perfectly safe. Especially this one.” She motioned with a slight jerk of her head before pushing a button on a small box attached to her keys. The sleek black car responded with two quick beeps and a sharp snick.

  “What did you do?” He eyed the vehicle, wondering
why it made those sounds.

  “I unlocked it.” She dangled the keys. “Remote control. Cool, huh? My dad bought this car for my mom so it’s loaded. Heated seats, navigation, satellite radio, all that stuff.”

  He nodded, not sure what she was talking about. His gaze snagged on the words on the back of the car. Volvo S60 R. He did not know what the S60 R meant but Volvo he understood. Was that supposed to be humorous? His sense of relaxation ebbed.

  She went around to the right side and opened the door. “Go ahead, get in.”

  He put one foot inside. “Is this vehicle truly safe?”

  “Cars don’t kill people, people kill people.” Mirth sparkled in her bronze eyes.

  If she jested, he failed to see the humor in her words. He lifted his foot back out. “Perhaps we should walk.”

  Rolling her eyes, she smiled. “Bad joke. Sorry. It’s safe, I promise.”

  Still wary, he sat. The softness of the tan leather on the seats impressed him. What did a vehicle like this cost? She climbed in behind the wheel that protruded out on the other side. After shutting her door, she fastened a strap across her body.

  She pointed towards his side. “Shut your door and I’ll help you with your seatbelt.”

  He pulled the door shut but the idea of being strapped into this contraption made him want to get out again. The word Volvo was written again on the wheel in front of her. He pointed to it, hoping she could help him understand. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “That’s the kind of car it is. It’s a Volvo. Like I said, very safe.” She nodded as if she believed what she told him.

  He leaned back. “If it is safe, why is it named ‘I roll’?”

  “I roll?” She wrinkled her forehead.

  “Here.” He drew his finger beneath the word Volvo. “In Latin this means ‘I roll’.”

  “You read Latin?” Her lovely arched brows shot up.

  “Aye and I do not wish to roll in this or any other vehicle.”

  “We aren’t going to roll, except on the wheels, the way we’re meant to.” She looked back at the emblem. “Are you sure that says ‘I roll’? I always thought Volvo meant safe or something like that in Swedish.”