THOR (4 page)

Olivia

The next morning I wake up at seven. I can’t remember the last time I woke up earlier than eleven. Usually, I’m working until two in the morning, but last night, I started easing into my life of not owning a club.

For one, I didn’t have takeout like I would have most nights. I ignored the astonishing sandwich Luke made, turned down his offer of making one for me and instead, had a kale and banana smoothie. The disturbingly green drink made me feel virtuous, but a little depressed. Not cleansed. I’m sure I’ll start feeling the effects of the diet today. I can’t really say I’m on Day Two, but I’m definitely not on Day One. Maybe it’s Day one and a third.

I’m not kicking ass yet, but I’m on my way.

I have a message from my lawyer, a man Howard recommended. The secretary says the closing has been moved up a day. The buyers are anxious to start renovations.

My breath catches in my throat. In three days, I’ll be able to pay back my grandparents. They still don’t know that I’m selling the club. I’m pretty sure they think they’ll never see that money again. I hadn’t told them because I was afraid of jinxing the deal, but now I have the urge to go there and tell them that I can pay back the money they lent me.

I shower, dress hurriedly in some jeans and boots, and head downstairs. From the clanging in the kitchen, I can tell Luke is in there planning some way to torpedo my diet plans. I remind myself I’m eating one and a half scrambled egg whites this morning, along with the kale-kiwi juice I bought the other day. I will not allow him to tempt me. Not happening.

Standing at the stove, frying potatoes, he turns to give me a sexy smile. “Morning, gorgeous. Want me to make you breakfast?”

He’s wearing jeans and a button down shirt and he’s shaved. This distracts me for a moment, because now I notice his dimples when he smiles.

When I don’t answer, he asks again. “Breakfast?”

I tear my gaze from him. “No thanks. I’m good.”

“Are we going somewhere today?”

I set the juice on the counter, along with a carton of egg whites. “We?”

He stirs the potatoes and goes on in an amiable tone. I’m not sure what annoys me more, the way he’s talking to me like I’m a child, or the fact that I’m lusting over those perfectly golden potatoes.

“Wherever you go, I go, at least until you sell the club. I don’t know what sort of trouble you’re in, but I promised my dad I’d watch out for you. Yesterday, you went running and then fainted. So, clearly, you need someone to mind you.”

I should respond to that but I don’t because I can’t tear my eyes from the stove. He whisks a bowl of eggs and pours them in the skillet. In another cast iron skillet, he warms a tortilla. Turning to look at me, he arches a brow and I realize I haven’t answered him. I can’t because I’m hypnotized by the tortilla. It’s white with little tan clouds and it puffs up, hot air filling the space between the perfectly browned surfaces like a wonderful, carbolicious pillow.

“You can come with me if you want,” I manage to say. “I’m going to my grandparents. They’d love to meet you.”

He fills the tortilla with the egg and potato mixture, and offers it to me on a plate. “Olivia, you know you want this.”

I take the plate and sigh. “I do. Very, very much.”

His grin is devastating but I’m too happy to complain. The breakfast taco is amazing. Savory flavor bursts in my mouth and I let out a weak moan. His eyes are sultry as he holds my gaze before fixing himself a plate.

I summon enough will power to stop at one taco. After breakfast, I call my grandmother to ask if I can visit. She’s pleased I’m coming and happy she’s getting a chance to meet Howard’s son. Luke and I get ready to leave.

The housekeepers are just arriving as we head out the door. Luke greets a few of the ladies by name and they seem very pleased to see him. It occurs to me that a few of the older ladies watched him grow up and it gives me a lonely feeling inside to think of him without a mom. She died when Luke was a teenager.

I never knew my father, and never felt like I lost anything because he insisted on terminating rights even before I was born. My mom had me young and we sort of grew up together. She’s a bit of a mess, but she always tried to be the best mom she could. She refused to date when I was younger. That’s part of the reason her marriage to Howard came as a bit of a surprise.

After a few moments of chatting with the housekeepers, he tells them we’ll be back soon and we head out to the garage. I’m rummaging for keys when I notice him taking motorcycle helmets and a couple of leather jackets out of the cabinet. He takes my purse and sets it on the shelf and heads out the door.

I should argue. I should insist on driving, but all I can think of is what is about to happen. I’m going to get on a motorcycle and wrap my arms around this beast. It seems so harmless and at the same time, so sexual.

He sets the helmet on my head and adjusts the strap, his gaze holding my eyes for a long moment. The energy he gives off sizzles with sexual force, but there’s something else there, too. A protectiveness. I don’t get more than a glimpse or so at any given time, but it’s definitely there. He’s dirty mouthed, yet he’s chivalrous.

He helps me into one of the jackets. It’s heavy, miles too big and smells of him. I might steal it. When he’s not looking, I sniff the collar. The scent is pure sin. Spicy. Clean. Potent.

Definitely
stealing it.

“Ready?” he asks.

“I guess I am.”

“What time are they expecting us?”

“Anytime.”

He starts the engine and the motorcycle roars to life. I don’t know much about bikes, but this one, a Triumph, seems older – vintage, like Howard’s cars. Luke swings his leg over and looks over his shoulder, waiting for me.

I get on behind him and keep a modest distance between us. He grasps my legs and pulls me closer. My body is flush with his and before I can protest, he takes off, forcing me to grab hold of him. After we wind down the driveway, he takes a left, in the wrong direction.

I guess we’re taking the scenic route. The morning air is cool, biting, and I’m grateful for the jacket and the shelter of his body. Hugging him, pressing against him and molding my body to his, wakens my senses. My body hums with arousal, making my breasts ache and my sex dampen. He’s so big, I can just see over his shoulder.

When we take a turn, I grip him with my thighs and he wraps his hand around my leg. He holds me like that for a few miles. The simple touch of his hand on my leg is dizzying. I can hardly think. We drive mile after mile along the quiet roads and soon I have no idea where we are.

I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before. The speed and the wind exhilarate, and holding on to Luke is even better. I imagine dipping my hands into the folds of his leather jacket and touching his chest. How would it feel to trace the bands of muscle and explore his powerful build? A moan escapes my lips and I’m grateful the wind carries it away.

He slows the bike and pulls onto a gravel driveway lined with towering trees. They soar over us, forming an emerald canopy. We stop at a padlocked gate. Luke opens it and locks it behind us. After a few more minutes rolling slowly on the gravel driveway, we pull up to a cabin and he turns off the motor.

We take off our helmets.

“This is my place,” he says.

“
Thor’s
cabin,” I tease. “It’s beautiful our here. Magical.”

The forest is hushed, but I can hear a stream running. A trail disappears into the trees and I’m tempted to explore.

I follow him up the steps and our footsteps echo on the planks. He opens the door and we go in. A stone fireplace dominates the single room. The kitchen lies in one corner and a king-sized bed sits under a window. The ceiling is raised, a cathedral roof, the walls made of logs as big around as I am.

“I built this,” he says.

He walks over to the fireplace. It’s the biggest fireplace I’ve ever seen and I’m struck with a surge of jealousy, wondering how many women he’s brought here. How many have sat sipping a drink while a fire roars.

He rubs the smooth stones that line the chimney. “I hauled this river rock from the stream below.”

“That sounds like back-breaking work.”

The stone column rises sixteen feet or so. A mantle hangs at my eye level, a massive beam, roughhewn with a few picture frames scattered across. Pictures of his parents, friends, him as a teen holding a big fish. I try not to be too obvious that I’m checking if he has any pictures of women. He doesn’t.

A bathroom to the side has a cast iron tub, the type with the lion paws. I draw a sharp breath.

“It’s from 1890,” he says with a grin.

I walk around and look out the windows. The cabin sits on a ridge and a stream glitters below. The view stretches across miles of undisturbed wilderness, not a single building in sight.

“Amazing,” I say.

He stands beside me and neither of us speak. In the distance, a hawk wheels in the sky, floating in lazy circles until it plunges down to capture some unseen prey.

“We could stay here if you wanted a change from the big house,” he says.

My breath catches. It takes every ounce of self-control not to turn my attention to the bed. There’s only one bed in the cabin and the invitation is clear. Heated images fill my mind. I imagine his hands on me and his lips on mine. I imagine submitting to him, because I know that’s what he would demand, and I imagine losing myself to him.

“I promised I would stay at the house,” I speak softly, keeping my gaze on the horizon.

A hush fills the cabin. I coax a breath into my lungs and wait for him to say something – anything. Arousal pulses through my senses. For the last thirty minutes, I’ve sat behind him on the bike, holding him in a way that is anything but innocent and now, I’m backing away. I’m sure he thinks I’m a tease.

He turns to face me. “One call and I could have someone there taking care of things.”

I keep my gaze on the horizon. “I don’t want to shirk my house-sitting duties.”

“Mm. You’re house-sitting and I’m baby-sitting.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “I guess that pretty much sums it up.”

“Guess we better get going, down the path and through the woods, to grandmother’s house.” His words are innocent but his tone is sultry.

“She’s making us lunch.”

He tucks back a strand of my hair and I can’t bring myself to look at him. I want him to touch me more. I want a safe retreat. The night I met him at the club, I was struck by the strong attraction. The way he looked at me like he was
hungry
for me. It was potent, and he’s given me the same look a few times since.

I’m certain it’s foolish to hope for anything from Luke. While he might not think I’m an out and out slut, I don’t think he has a very high opinion of me. Part of me wants to turn and walk away, and part of me wonders what it would be like to give myself to him, right here in this quiet cabin.

I close my eyes and force the thoughts away. I’m so close to doing something big. For once in my life, I’m going to knock it out of the park and I’m not going to let anything get in the way. Not now.

“Ready for lunch?” I ask, turning the conversation to his second favorite topic.

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls. “Sure hope she’s not making something with kale in it.”

I draw a deep breath, grateful for the change of subject. He ushers me out of the cabin and a few moments later, we’re on the bike. I’m holding on as tight as I can as we roar down the road, back to town.

Luke

I didn’t know about Julia's parents. I assumed they were old, retired people who like to bowl a couple of times a week. But Olivia tells me Mr. and Mrs. Pendleton live on a ranch that they still manage despite being in their early 70s. We ride up the driveway and we're going slowly enough for me to ask Olivia about the size of the ranch. She tells me it's about two hundred acres. The property is neatly fenced and a herd of Black Angus graze on the distant hillside.

A red barn sits a ways from the house, a tractor parked beside it with some farm implement attached to the back. I don’t know the first thing about farms or tractors. Put me on a dozer or a grader and I’m good. A shredder or plow, not so much.

I park the motorcycle and we take off our helmets.

“I spent a lot of time here while I was growing up. When my mom first graduated from nursing school, she worked nights and I’d sleep here.”

I glance over at the house, a tidy two-story farmhouse, with potted plants on the porch and a swing. Huge oaks shade the house.

“What did your grandparents think about you owning a gentlemen's club?”

She grimaces. “Not a lot. I think they like to pretend it’s a coffee shop, for businessmen.”

I laugh. We walk up to the house and a pack of farm dogs greet us. They wag their tails, one of them an older hound dog giving a few half-hearted barks. Her grandparents meet us at the door. Both are slim, erect, their faces tanned and a little weather-beaten from long days in the Texas sun.

Alice Pendleton steps forward offering her hand and gives me a big smile. “We didn't want to bother Julia and your father about Olivia's little problem, but we were glad when we heard you’d be keeping an eye on her.”

Her eyes sparkle. They're blue, tinged with violet. Her grip is strong but not as strong as Henry Pendleton's. And his eyes aren't sparkling. He’s looking at me with a hint of accusation. If only he knew the heated dreams I’ve had about Olivia, he’d do a lot more than try to crush my hand. I’m certain he didn’t imagine someone like me watching over his granddaughter.

“Mr. Pendleton, you have a beautiful ranch. What are beef prices like these days?”

He drops my hand and narrows his eyes, not really buying what I'm half-heartedly selling.

“Beef prices are okay. You know something about cattle?”

“I like steak. Does that count?”

His lips quirk. He turns to Olivia and gathers her in a big bear hug, lifting her off her feet. “How's my girl?”

“I'm doing fine, Grandpa. You don't need to worry so much.”

We go inside. The kitchen is spacious and sunny, the huge, wooden farm table set for lunch. Whatever Alice Pendleton made smells amazing. I'm grateful she doesn't follow the same, crazy diet guidelines as Olivia.

Alice and Olivia talk in the kitchen while I wander around the den. The mantle of the fireplace is crowded with pictures of Olivia. Olivia as a toddler sitting on Santa's knee. A picture of her in elementary school. A picture of her crossing the finish line, winning a race. There's also a picture of her in a graduation cap and gown standing with her grandparents and Julia.

A strange feeling comes over me as I look at the pictures. Olivia’s life is spread out before me, from little kid to however old she was when she got her degree. At some point in the last few days, she’s made me feel different about her. I don’t want to knock her down a few notches or take her apart, I want to keep her by my side. Tuck her next to me.

The picture of her in the graduation cap and gown rivets my attention. I didn’t know they had graduation ceremonies for people who got their GED. The gown is billowing around her, shapeless and hiding her sweet curves, but her eyes are lit with some sort of intensity that I love about her. Determined. Cautious. Fragile-strong.

Maybe I want the slow burn of seduction over one full, heated night. It would give me time to peel away some of those protective layers. I feel my blood stir and have to admit I’d take either the slow burn or the raging night of passion. She’s all I want.

I turn and find her grandfather watching me.

“I like this picture of you two with Olivia in her cap and gown, Mr. Pendleton.”

His expression softens a little. I’m breaking through that gruff exterior.

“We weren’t sure she was going to get that piece of paper. But she was determined, even though she had to take a few of the tests three or four times.”

His words surprise me. I can’t imagine her struggling. “Oh?”

“She always had to work harder to make the grade. We spent a fortune on tutoring, but nothing ever seemed to help much.” His face brightens. “We’re pretty pleased she’s doing so well with her business.”

Business.
A wave of irritation comes over me.

He lifts the graduation picture from the mantle. “Her teachers, tutors, everyone told us not to expect much and look at her now.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and look at the picture again. Henry holds the delicate frame in his hands.

“You sticking close to Olivia, keeping an eye on her?” he asks, as he sets it back.

“Yes, sir.”

“She's a stubborn one. Both she and her mom want to do things their own way.”

I’m not sure what to say about that, but fortunately, Alice calls us to come eat lunch. Henry and I return to the kitchen and sit at the table. There's a pan of lasagna, salad, bread and a huge pitcher of iced tea. Henry says a short prayer and Alice serves up plates of the amazing-looking lasagna.

I look over at Olivia, half expecting her to complain or say something about not being able to eat, but she takes the plate of food and digs in with gusto. The conversation is light. Nothing is said about Olivia's work, the threats she's received or the sale of the club. Lots of elephants in the room.

To my amazement, Olivia not only eats her serving of lasagna but helps herself to seconds. Even Alice, who's pretty slight, manages a second helping. Doing my best to keep up, and of course be polite, I eat until I can't manage another bite.

Alice offers dessert, everyone mutters some sort of polite refusal. Instead, we go for a walk down the hill to a pond. I hang back a little, walking with the dogs, so that Olivia can have a moment with her grandparents. I know she wants to tell them about the sale and it seems like that should be a private conversation.

The pond is bigger than I realized, like the size of a football field and a breeze blows, making tiny waves glitter in the sunshine. The dogs play along the bank. They bark and race, a couple plunging into the water.

One of them emerges from the water and goes to where Olivia talks to Henry and Alice. He pauses and shakes his coat and I hear a murmur of dismay and some laughter.

Olivia smiles at me and goes to the water’s edge. Wind blows through her hair.

She’s lost in thought, staring out at the water. Her expression is open, happy and unguarded, and I can’t take my eyes from her. I’ve never had a woman at my cabin. I had to take her there today, to invite her to see who I am, who I
really
am. Now I need to
take
her there, to have her all to myself.

Dad’s house is too big. And it never felt like a home. The cabin is all mine. I dreamed it, planned it and I like to picture Olivia there. It’s one room so she wouldn’t be able to run off. I’d cook for her and feed her things she pretends she doesn’t want. I’d take her to bed and make her mine. I imagine a lazy afternoon, spent in bed while a thunderstorm rolls in.

I imagine other things with her, too. Not just having her naked and all to myself. I’d like to take her on that trip she told me about to see the Pacific.

We head back up the hill and when we get back to the house, Alice serves dessert and coffee. Olivia takes her piece of chocolate cake and gives me a sheepish look, expecting me to hassle her, but I don’t say a word.

She thinks she’s fat. I think she’s perfect.

After we say good bye to Alice and Henry, we climb on the bike. We drive slowly along the gravel driveway and when we hit the road, I push the bike up to sixty. Her arms tighten around me. The feel of her body undoes something inside me. This girl could turn me into a rampaging barbarian and I won’t relent until I carry her off to my lair.

Before that can happen, I need to do some damage control and get her to forget our first meeting. I set my hand on her leg as we take a corner. It’s a question. It’s an offer and she responds by laying her face against my back. The gesture makes me smile. Olivia’s as good as mine.