by S. T. Bende
“Is all of this too much for you?” Tyr sounded serious. I looked up to find him studying my face.
“I’m fine. Just needed some sleep. And now I need to finish my paper—I kind of forgot about it last night.”
“Want any help?”
“No, thank you. I think I’ve got a decent first draft. Just need to tweak it a little and hopefully it’ll be good enough.” I poured the egg and cheese mixture into the pan and popped it in the oven. “Do you like frittata?”
“Does it involve bacon?” Tyr peered at the oven.
“Not this one. I didn’t see any in the fridge.”
“There’s some in the garage fridge. Give me a sec.” He walked out of the kitchen and came back a minute later with a large package of meat. The griddle was hot thirty seconds after he turned it on. That range was amazing. He opened the bacon and placed enough for a small army on the steaming surface.
“If you’re going to stay here, you need to know the ground rules. Rule number one: no breakfast is complete without bacon. Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
Tyr crossed to the coffeepot, where I’d set out four clean cups. He filled one and offered it to me. “Cream?”
“No, thanks. I like it black.”
“So do I.” He handed me the cup and poured one for himself.
“Do I smell bacon? You know what goes great with bacon? My famous Swedish pancakes, that’s what. I’ll just whip up a batch and…” Henrik sauntered into the kitchen, followed by a cheery-eyed Brynn. A devilish smile broke out across his face as he came to a stop at the island. “Well, lookie what we have here. The picture of domestic bliss. Looks like you two have the cooking covered. Wonder what else you’ll have covered by—”
“Behave, Henrik.” Brynn swatted him. He gave me a saucy wink.
“Just for that you can get your own coffee.” Tyr jerked his head at the pot.
“Mmm. Coffee.” Brynn practically skipped toward the caffeine. Her endless energy without the aid of stimulants was truly mind-blowing. She poured two cups and added a generous heaping of sugar to hers, offering the unsweetened one to Henrik. Ah, that’s the secret to her perkiness. Sugar. Then she sat at the kitchen table. “So what’s on the agenda today?”
“I need to finish my Shakespeare paper. So I’m headed to the library. What are you guys up to?” I took a sip from my mug.
“Henrik wants to see the new James Bond movie,” Brynn offered.
“You still haven’t seen that?” I was incredulous. I figured all guys went to those things on opening day.
“Nope. I’ve been slaving away in the engineering lab. My assistants don’t work hard enough for me to take a movie break.”
“Right.” Brynn rolled her eyes.
“Speaking of, do you think you could come in this Wednesday afternoon, too?” Henrik pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’d like to have Fred functional in a month, and I want an extra brainstorming session so we can figure out how to make it happen.”
Tyr tensed. “What’s the rush?”
“Just thinking it’d be a good idea to speed things up.”
A deep V formed between Tyr’s eyebrows.
What did the deadline on our lab project upset Tyr? And why did he and Henrik suddenly sport matching frowns?
“Henrik, can I talk to you? Outside?” Tyr stalked out of the kitchen.
“Pardon us, girls. We’ll be right back.” Henrik glanced at Brynn before rushing out of the room.
“That was weird.” I walked over to the oven. The frittata looked firm, so I carried it to the table to cool, then took the bacon off the griddle and set it on a plate of paper towels. “Are they always that secretive?”
“Pretty much.” Brynn laughed, but the lines around her mouth looked more tense than joyful.
What was going on?
The boys strode back into the kitchen just as I was serving the frittata. Tyr rubbed his forearm while Henrik wore a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Everything okay?” I asked casually. I hadn’t forgotten our conversation yesterday—if something was wrong, I wasn’t supposed to push. But boy, howdy, did I want to.
“Everything’s great.” Tyr picked up the coffee pot with a tight smile. “Who needs a refill?”
The matter was clearly closed. Despite my overwhelming desire to jump in and fix whatever was wrong, I followed my friends and sat down to eat. Tyr and Henrik started a heated debate about their favorite soccer teams. Tyr was loyal to Malmö. It ticked him off that Henrik rooted for Stockholm.
“They’re not rivals, man. We never actually beat you guys.”
“It’s the principle. Who doesn’t root for their home team?” Tyr took a fierce bite of bacon and Henrik laughed.
“Do you guys want to go to the movie with us?” Brynn changed the subject.
“I’ll go if Mia goes.” Tyr picked up his coffee cup. “But it doesn’t count as the date I promised you. Hanging out with these two isn’t what I had in mind.”
“Rude.” Brynn stuck her tongue out.
“Paper.” I shook my head. “Shoot. That looks like a fun movie.”
“We weren’t planning to go until three-thirty. You think you’ll be done by then?” Brynn checked the clock over the stove. “It gives you a few hours.”
“Maybe.” I chewed my lip. “That could work, actually. If I go get ready now.” I jumped up and carried my plate to the sink. “Should I meet you guys there?”
“No, come back here. I’ll drive us.” Tyr followed me to the sink and brushed his lips against mine. When I stood on tiptoe to prolong the kiss, Henrik cleared his throat.
“We’re still here,” he pointed out.
“Right.” Heat flooded my cheeks. “See you back here this afternoon.”
“See you.” Tyr winked at me. “But I still owe you a date. You won’t have any papers to write on Friday night, will you?”
My pulse raced. “I’d have to check my schedule, but I think I’m paper-free on Friday.”
“Good. We can double with these troublemakers today, but I want you all to myself next weekend.” Tyr leaned down and whispered in my ear. “I’ve got something in mind I think you’ll really like.”
“Oh do you?” I blinked up at him, praying he couldn’t hear the pounding of my heart.
“I do.” Tyr quickly brushed his lips against mine before stepping back.
“Sounds great,” I squeaked before scurrying out of the kitchen.
Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get to the library so I could finish my paper and get a jump on next week’s reading. The sooner I finished my work, the sooner I could see Tyr again.
I’d never been more motivated to study in my life.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’M READY. SO WHERE are we going? You were so cryptic all week.”
I stared at the shiny black motorcycle parked outside my house. It was Friday night, the night of our first official one-on-one date, and my pulse pounded a rhythm that was equal parts nervous and excited.
“I thought I’d give you a little peek into my world, and hopefully show you a great time all in one move. What do you say?”
I tugged at the wrists of my open leather jacket as I eyed the motorcycle. “I say I’m glad you told me to wear pants.”
Tyr let his eyes run down my flowing pink top before settling on the contours of my black skinny jeans. They hugged my curves in all the right places, and judging by Tyr’s appreciative stare, the extra squats I’d done this week had paid off. “So am I,” he said.
“Okay.” I drew a deep breath through my mouth and exhaled slowly. “Let’s do this.”
“Are you nervous to ride again?”
“No,” I answered quickly. Yes. Accident statistics ran through my brain like the stock market ticker at the bottom of a television screen, reminding me of all the reasons getting on a bike was a bad idea. My eyes drifted to my Audi parked just behind the motorcycle—the winner of the highest safety-rating awarded the
year I turned sixteen, and therefore the most suitable vehicle for my parents’ youngest offspring. None of that mattered.
The Audi couldn’t offer a ride where I was pressed firmly against Tyr’s body, the wind in my face and an engine rumbling between my thighs.
“Come on.” Tyr held out his hand and we walked side by side to the bike. He dropped my hand and picked up a helmet. “You wanna put this on yourself, Miss Super G?” he quipped.
“Ha.” I cuffed his shoulder before taking the helmet out of his hands. As I slid it over my head, I sent a silent prayer that I wouldn’t have helmet hair by the time we got wherever it was we were going.
“You look hot.”
“Oh.” The temperature inside my headpiece doubled. “Thank you.”
Tyr gave me a wink and put on his own helmet. The Swedish bad boy was a far cry from the Yankee prince my mother hoped I’d fall for, but for the time being he was my prince, whatever that meant. And Lord, if he wasn’t sexy as all get-out. Even if it meant getting my heart stomped into a million pieces, I was so following him anywhere he asked me to. At least for tonight.
“Hold on tight. We’re gonna let it go.”
I threw my arms around his waist and held myself against him. A growl resonated from Tyr’s chest. “On second thought, we could always stay in.”
“Drive, Fredriksen.”
Tyr squared his shoulders as the bike roared to life. Before I could get my bearings, we were flying through the otherwise quiet neighborhood. Being pressed up against him was as exhilarating as it had been the first time. Only this time, I wasn’t bemoaning the fact that Tyr could never be mine. In this moment, and hopefully at least a few more, he was.
Tyr pulled into a parking lot and turned off the engine. He climbed off the motorcycle, and hooked his helmet on the handlebar, then held out his hands. I gripped them tightly and scooted down the side, setting one foot on the ground before I tried Tyr’s cool leg-throwing-over-the-bike trick.
Turns out that trick was best done by people not wearing three-inch heeled boots.
“Whoa. You okay, prinsessa?” Tyr caught me as I tumbled.
“Never better,” I muttered into my helmet. It never failed to amaze me that I could fly down icy hills on five-foot planks, but I couldn’t walk across a lawn without tripping. Tyr slid his hands around my waist and squeezed lightly as he set me on my feet. When I was steady, I pulled the headpiece off and handed it to my date. “How bad is my hair?”
Tyr raised an eyebrow. “You’re worried about your hair?”
“Of course I am.” I bent at the waist and tipped my head down so I could fluff it with my fingertips. When I straightened up, Tyr was laughing. I planted my hands on my hips. “Hey buddy, hair is important to girls. And helmets are not hair-friendly. That’s why skiers wear braids.”
“You look great, Mia. Don’t worry about your hair. Besides, the earphones are going to make it less floufy, anyway.”
“Floufy? You use the strangest words sometimes. Wait, what do you mean earphones?”
Tyr pointed, and I turned to the building at the edge of the parking lot. “Skeeter’s Shooting Range and Grill? Shut the front door!”
“You’re smiling.” Tyr sounded relieved.
“Heck yeah, I’m smiling. This is an awesome date.”
“You said your family was outdoorsy, and that your dad taught you to shoot. I thought you might like coming here.”
“I love that you brought me here.” I stood on my tiptoes and pulled his head down so I could kiss his cheek. “This is going to be great.”
“Mmm. Agreed.” Tyr laced his fingers through mine. “You ready?”
“You have no idea.” Finally, I was in my element.
We walked across the parking lot. When we got to the range, Tyr held the door so I could step through. “Thank you,” I murmured.
“Any time.”
We showed the clerk our driver’s licenses and signed our waivers, and Tyr carried the rifles to our stations while I brought our goggles, headphones and ammunition. We each attached our target to the wire, and sent it down to the end of the range. Then Tyr turned to me with his telltale half-smile.
“You know how to load a rifle, right, prinsessa?”
I pointed the rifle at the target, cocked it and inserted the magazine, pushing until I felt it catch. “Like this?” I fluttered my lashes.
Tyr’s eyes darkened a shade. “You have never been hotter to me.”
“Wait ’til you see me shoot.” I lowered my goggles, secured my headphones, and set my focus on the target. With six quick pulls, I’d sent a half-dozen bullets through the paper man’s heart. Keeping my rifle pointed at the target, I turned my head to Tyr. “Am I hotter now?”
“Förbaskat, Mia. I want to take you home so bad.” My headphones distorted the volume of Tyr’s voice, but the desire in his eyes spoke volumes. Holy mother…
“Nope. I’m having a good time.” As I lowered my head to aim, I willed my pulse to calm down.
“I promise I’ll show you a good time at home,” Tyr growled.
“Stop it. I’m trying to focus.” I fired again, this time obliterating the center of the target’s head. When I’d depleted my ammunition, I set the .22 on the counter and recalled the paper. It returned with a set of matching holes in its head and heart. I pulled it off the clip, and handed it to Tyr. “For you. So you’ll always remember me.”
“Oh, I don’t think I could ever forget you. A mortal girl in leather and heels, holding a gun with deadly accuracy.”
“A ‘mortal girl’? We really need to work on your pickup lines, foreigner.”
“Uh… yeah. The translations don’t always come so easily, you know.” Tyr grabbed the paper from my hands and folded it before slipping it in his jacket pocket, and loading his own rifle. He lowered the goggles over his eyes but didn’t bother with the earphones. I tried not to stare as he shot, but the sight of a godlike Swede firing at the thin paper man was unbelievably sexy.
This was so the greatest date ever.
Tyr caught me ogling as he turned back around, and one corner of his mouth turned up. “Like the view?”
“Uh… erm… doesn’t the noise bother you?” I tapped my earphones, avoiding the question.
“Not much bothers me, baby.”
“Really? Because when I first met you, you seemed pretty uptight.” I reloaded my rifle and pinned another paper to the clip. When I saw it safely down the range, I glanced at Tyr. He was grinning.
“This from a girl who has a daily goal list taped to her mirror. Oh, I know about that. Brynn tells me things.”
Raising my chin half an inch, I ignored his laughter. “Studies have shown that a visual affirmation is a highly effective tool in goal setting, and in fact, increases efficacy by more than two hundred percent.”
Tyr held up a hand. “All I’m saying is people in glass houses shouldn’t call other people uptight.”
“Are we here to talk or shoot things?”
“Gods, you’re sexy.”
With a wink I turned back to my target. Three rounds and two targets later, my arm was getting sore and my date was getting hungry. When I set my gun down, he followed suit and removed his goggles. “What do you say we head to the ‘and grill’ section?”
“I say absolutely. I’m hungry.”
We returned our gear to the clerk, and headed to the restaurant adjacent to the gun range. It was cleaner than I’d expected, with a vibe that was much more hometown diner than bar and grill. Photos of the local little league teams lined the walls, along with high school football and basketball pictures. A case of trophies sat in the corner, and behind the bar was a row of flat screens showing football, baseball and hockey games. Clearly Skeeter sought to appeal to all sports-minded audiences.
“Have a seat wherever you like.” The bartender gave Tyr an appreciative onceover as she filled a pitcher of beer. He nodded, and pointed me to a window seat.
“Booth okay?” he asked me.
“So long as they serve the burgers over there, I’m good.”
We crossed the room and sat on opposite sides of the dimly lit table. A waitress appeared shortly with our menus. She slowly recited the specials to Tyr, holding her chest in a way that suggested she’d be happy to serve him something off the menu if he’d be so inclined. But Tyr kept his eyes on me, waiting until I’d ordered my cheeseburger to turn to the waitress and ask for the same. She cast one more hopeful glance at my date, but when he ignored her she shot me a glare that could have frozen lava and stalked away. I tried not to think about what she might do to my food.
“You’re good with a gun. Better than I thought.” Tyr reached across the table and held my hand.
“Gee, thanks.”
“You know what I mean. You said your dad taught you to shoot, but I didn’t realize he taught you to shoot. I thought mortal girls were more… more helpless, I guess.”
“Not me.” I shrugged. “My parents were big on life skills. Mama taught us to do our own laundry, sew and cook when we were pretty young, and Daddy taught us to set up the tent, shoot, fish, and change a tire. They wanted to know when they sent us out in the world, we’d be prepared for anything.”
“They had to know they couldn’t prepare you for everything.” Tyr stroked the back of my hand with his thumb.
“True.” I shivered. “But darned if they didn’t try. What about you? What was your childhood like before…” I didn’t finish the sentence. Before your parents were murdered.
“Not quite like yours.” Tyr squeezed my hand. “Even before, I had a lot of responsibility at a very young age. My family is… there’s a lot that’s expected of us. It was always understood I would follow in my father’s footsteps and join the military. When he died, his job should have fallen to me, but I was too young to manage the responsibility. Odin took the job over until I came of age, and then he passed it over to me.”
“Odin? Is he a friend or an uncle or something?” Was every Swede named after a Norse god?
“Odin? Uh… a friend. Kind of a grandfatherly figure. If your grandfather happened to be a six-foot killing machine.” I raised an eyebrow and Tyr squeezed my hand lightly. “It’s a joke, Mia. He’s just really intense.”