Perfekt Order (The Ære Saga Book 1) (20 page)

“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.

“
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.”