Eleven
Thor
Never have I been so grateful for a forty-minute drive. I’ve kept up a stream of dialogue with Clover, though she’s only answered with mostly grunts. I’m not complaining, though, because she has her arms wrapped around my waist, and her chest pressed to my back. I’ve not felt such peace in a long time.
It took her a good ten minutes before she loosened up and leaned into me more, finally raising her head off my back and looking around as we rode. She seems to get a little more comfortable with each mile we drive. She’s also a natural rider, leaning into the curves without me having to tell her.
I don’t know how much she’s seen of this area, so I’ve been pointing out everything we pass. I’ve also been driving more slowly than I need to. I want to stretch this moment out as long as possible because once we get to my cabin, Clover isn’t going to be thrilled with the sleeping arrangements. But it isn’t like I planned to use it for anything more than my weekend getaways alone. I never planned to have a beautiful woman staying with me for her safety .
To be honest, I’m pretty nervous about taking her to the cabin. I’ll have to take extra precautions to stay awake so I don’t terrify her with one of my nightmares. The thought of her seeing and hearing me like that has dread coiling in my gut.
Suddenly, one of Clover’s arms disappears from around my waist. I glance over my shoulder and catch her with her arm stretched out making waves in the air with her hand. Is she smiling behind her helmet? I don’t think I could handle a full smile from this woman without completely losing my heart.
“How you doing back there, Love?” I ask as we take the exit for the cabin.
Her arm slips around my waist again, and I’m both grateful for and frustrated with the extra material separating our skin. “Great.” It’s one word, but it’s not clipped or bitter. In fact, she almost sounds relaxed.
My grin stretches at the thought as I lean into another curve, Clover leaning right along with me. “You’re a natural rider.”
She hums a wordless response, and that’s when it hits me. She’s ridden before.
Shaking my head, I laugh to myself. We spend the rest of the drive in a tranquil silence with only the sound of the road beneath the tires and the wind whipping around our helmets.
When we stop in front of my cabin, Clover and I slide off the bike and pull off our helmets and gloves. Her hair is a fuzzy mess, but her eyes are twinkling, and I swear there’s a hint of a smile adorning her face .
She appears peaceful as she surveys the small cabin and the wooded area surrounding us. “This is secluded.”
“That’s the point.”
One dark eyebrow quirks. “You’re not some kind of ax murderer, are you?”
I chuckle. “You’re just now asking that question? You came with me willingly.”
“I wouldn’t say willingly,” she mutters.
Crossing my arms, I study her for a moment. “You’ve ridden a motorcycle before, haven’t you?”
Her gaze snaps to me and then her typical I-don’t-give-a-crap mask replaces her almost-smile from moments ago. “A little.”
“Liar.”
“Daddy owns a bike, and I used to ride with him.”
“That’s awesome.”
She looks a little taken aback at my words, a frown pulling at her mouth.
I grab our bags from my bike and head inside, Clover following cautiously behind me. “Don’t worry,” I say over my shoulder. “We’ll be safe here for a while.”
Setting the bags on the floor, I notice Clover’s wild eyes as her gaze sweeps around the cabin. Her gaze lingers on the single room with a lone bed.
I shut the door behind us, locking every lock and deadbolt. She still hasn’t said anything by the time I’ve turned around. Scratching my beard, I finally break the silence. “Sorry it’s small. ”
“Small?” She faces me, panic written all over her face. “My mom’s trailer on a movie set is bigger than this!”
“I’m sorry, I should have warned you. But this really is the safest place for you right now. I have security cameras on every corner and a security system around the property, so I know if anyone steps foot onto my land.” She bites her lip, her gaze darting around again. “I promise, I’ll give you as much space as I can.”
She dips her head, then meeting my eyes, she says with a firm voice, “I’m taking the bed.”
I bite back a smirk. “That’s the plan. I probably won’t sleep much anyway.” Can’t afford to.
Slipping off my leather riding jacket, I hang it up and walk into the kitchen—which is only about two steps away from where we were standing. “Do you want something to eat or drink? Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate? Protein bar? Frozen fruit?”
Inhaling a deep breath, she hangs her jacket beside mine, and reaches for her bag. “Hot chocolate sounds nice, actually.” Pulling out her laptop, she glances around. “Is there internet here?”
“Yup. Let me get you set up, and you can work while I make us some snacks and hot chocolate.” I point toward the television. “I also have streaming, so if you want to watch anything, feel free to.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, and sets her computer on the coffee table. “So, this place is yours?”
“Yeah. I bought it a couple years ago.”
She hums softly. “Do you come here to hunt or something? ”
I plug in her computer and then sit down on the couch, setting it on my lap. “Do you mind if I turn it on so I can put the WiFi password in?”
“No, go ahead.” She hesitates a moment before sitting beside me on the couch, bringing an enticing tropical scent with her.
“I’m not much of a hunter. I can hunt, I just don’t like it that much.” I don’t tell her that hunting brings back too many painful memories for me. “So I only do it about once or twice a year when Mom starts heckling me about getting her some deer meat.”
Pointing to my left wrist, she asks, “What happened to your wrist?”
I glance down at the bandage that’s barely visible from under the watch and shrug. “No big deal, just a scratch.” Typing in the password, I log in for her and redirect the topic. “All right, there you go.” I hand her the computer and stand.
She offers me the faintest of smiles, though it looks like it pains her to do so. Hey, progress, right? “Thanks. I have some work I need to get caught up on.” Her attention turns to the computer as I make my way to the small kitchen.
“How did you become an editor?” I gather a can of evaporated milk, sugar, salt, and the cocoa powder.
“I’ve always loved reading—”
“And writing,” I add, glancing over my shoulder.
She glares at me. “We’re not talking about that. Anyway, I knew I wanted to do something with it, so I got my degree in creative writing and screenwriting.”
“Wow. You’re twenty-one, right?” I ask, as if I haven’t been reminding myself of her age since the day I met her, though the more I get to know her, the less I care about the age difference. She nods. “When did you graduate?”
“Last year. But I already had editing clients before that.”
I let out a low whistle as I pour the sugar, water, salt, and cocoa into the pot. “You must be some kind of genius to have graduated so early.”
She snorts, her eyes still glued to the computer screen. “More like, I had no life.”
“What do you mean?”
Her eyes lock with mine briefly before she turns back around. “I had a private tutor. So I graduated high school at sixteen and immediately started taking college classes.”
“Impressive.” I stir the hot cocoa, not wanting to push her too hard. I’m kind of shocked she’s opening up to me, giving me a glimpse into her life, but I do want to know . . . “And you’re sure you don’t want to take a chance with your plays?”
“Thor.” Her tone holds a warning, but I relish the way my name sounds falling from her lips.
I hold up my hands. “Okay. Okay. Just thought I’d ask.”
“Uh-huh.” The sound of her typing fills the room. “What about you?”
“What about me?” I swing my eyes to her before adding the evaporated milk, continuing to stir the mixture.
“Well”—she motions to my tattoos—“you’re a Marine, right? OOHRAH and all that?”
I chuckle. “Yes, I’m a veteran.”
Her gaze skims over my tattoos before slowly meeting my eyes as she clears her throat. “How did you become a bodyguard?”
Shrugging, I reply, “I kind of landed into it. When I got out, a Marine buddy of mine introduced me to Rock—my now boss—and he offered me a job.”
“How long were you in?”
“Ten years. Went straight out of high school.” I stir the drink one last time, switching the stove off and removing it from the burner. Grabbing the mugs, I pour the hot chocolate into each one.
“And you’ve been out for . . .” she lets the question drag, and I fight a smile.
“Trying to figure out if I’m too old for you?” I can’t help but tease.
Red blooms on her cheeks. “Forget it,” she mutters, turning back to the computer.
Laughing, I add a dollop of whipped cream I had stored in my freezer and bring the mugs to the living room. Placing them on the table, I say softly, “I’ve been out about four years. Right after my dad died.” And we lost Lit. But that’s a story I’m not ready to talk about. May never be ready to talk about.
Her head lifts, sorrow filling her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, genuine heartache in her voice.
I dip my chin. “Thank you.” Heading back into the kitchen, I call over my shoulder, “I’m thirty-two, by the way. Which is perfect, don’t you think? Stable job. Man enough to know what I want.” Or who I want, but I don’t add that part.
She ignores me, her fingers typing away on her computer. Before I can say anything else, my phone dings. When I look down I suppress a groan as the group chat lights up with questions and theories about Clover and me.
Boss
So, Thor . . . want to enlighten us to what’s going on?
Shortie
Oh, I wanna know! What are we talking about?
Teach
With Thor involved, it could be anything.
Hotshot
Sorry, man. I wasn’t going to say anything.
Boss
Don’t try to act like you aren’t curious, Cai.
The Pirate
What are you all talking about?
Boss
Thor has a girlfriend.
Shortie
Oh my goodness, what!? Is it real this time? What’s her name? Do we know her? What does she look like?
I snort. Chantelle probably wants to know her favorite color, food, and movie too.
Boss
He’s dating a client.
The Pirate
Can’t you get fired for that?
Shortie
It doesn’t matter if it’s true love, Holt! Thor, you need to give me the deets! ASAP.
Teach
Why don’t we give him a chance to read the messages first? Maybe he has a perfectly good explanation?
Shortie
Ugh. Why do you always have to be so rational, Des?
Shortie
But seriously . . . I need pictures! Or better yet, you can bring her to the Brokedown!
I sigh heavily, running a hand over my face and beard.
Can’t. At the cabin.
The Pirate
Oh, look who decided to respond.
Boss
That’s a vague answer. Roxy wants to know if you’re alone.
Shaking my head, a chuckle rumbles in my chest.
Negative. Can’t really talk about the details though.
Shortie
So you are dating a client!?
Teach
He didn’t say he was dating anyone.
The Pirate
He didn’t deny it either.
It’s complicated. I’ll catch up with y’all when I’m back in Denver.
Turning my phone off, I scoop frozen fruit into individual bowls and grab a pack of unopened graham crackers from the pantry. Clover has her bottom lip clamped between her teeth, completely absorbed in her work. I smile to myself, thinking how much I could get used to this. Her working. Me taking care of her. The comfortable silence surrounding us.
God, I want this. With her.