Chapter 5 Henrik
HENRIK
It can only mean one thing when my driveway’s freshly plowed.
Ren’s up to no good.
As long as there’s snow on the ground, I use my snowmobile. For shorter trips, I snowshoe or ski. I don’t trust four wheels to get me where I need to go over snow and ice.
Sure enough, I see fresh tracks leading up to my porch. Small boots. It’s gotta be a girl—or a kid, and there aren’t any kids around here. Dog beside her.
If he brought another groupie up here, I’m gonna kill him.
Silently, I glide through the snow around the house to the back entrance so I can stow my gear in the lean-to covered porch.
I sling the brace of rabbits over my shoulder for dramatic effect.
Nothing like a little blood and fur to get an unwanted guest to skedaddle in a hurry, especially ones of the female persuasion.
I slip through the back door, moving surprisingly quietly for a big man.
I’ve got plenty of experience. The dog’s head pops up over the back of the sofa, big fuzzy ears twitching.
I can’t see the girl yet but no doubt she’s sacked out on my couch.
Nothing like a warm fire and snug house to knock you out cold this time of year.
Though most girls have more of a sense of self-preservation than to sleep in a strange man’s house uninvited.
The dog locks eyes with me. Silvery white Husky, beautiful specimen, lighter than a male would be. Tricky dogs. They love mischief more than common sense, but she won’t bite. Probably.
I’d rather not drag my ass across the valley to Doyle’s for stitches if I can help it.
I ease closer, moving toward the side of the sofa so I can see what I’m dealing with.
Dark hair falls loose and soft around her face in waves, her lips lush and soft in sleep.
No makeup makes her look innocent though she’s older than the normal groupie type.
I’m guessing thirty-two, thirty-three years old.
Sweater and leggings, not a branded jersey or hoodie.
Hmm. I’m stumped. If she’s not here to meet “the Mighty Zon,” then I have no idea why Ren stashed her in my cabin instead of taking her to his.
She can’t be here for the other. It’s a secret. He fucking promised. Nobody knows but us.
Maybe she does have at least a subconscious sense of self-preservation because she stirs even though I haven’t made a sound. I cross my arms, level a hard stare on her face, and let out a low rumbling sigh.
Her eyes pop open and she shoots upright, scrambling back against her dog. Her cheeks flush and she swipes at her hair. “Oh. Sorry. You startled me. You must be Henrik?”
Her eyes are as blue as her dog’s. I give her another wordless grunt, pushing the recluse lumberjack persona most people know me by now.
“I don’t know if that’s yes or no,” she mutters.
The dog yowls back, a high-pitched cross between a screech and howl that only Huskies can do. I barely suppress a twitch of my lips. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”
Her startling eyes flare wide, her mouth opening with shock. “Ren said it would be okay.”
I snarl out another wordless curse and turn back to the kitchen, flipping on the lights. I need to get these rabbits cleaned, regardless of unwanted houseguests. Hopefully she’ll bolt as soon as the big knife comes out.
“He went to look for you,” she stammers. “He said he’d be back in a few minutes. I must have fallen asleep. I don’t know how long he’s been gone.”
Pretending like I’m not listening to her at all, I pull out the thick wooden cutting board I use for meat.
Then I start sharpening my butchering knife.
I don’t look at her, but I can feel her emotions rocketing higher, making the air shimmer with energy.
The rabbits flop down on the cutting board with a loud, lifeless whack.
I pull out stainless steel bowls and fill the largest halfway with cold water.
Then I get to work skinning the smallest rabbit, waiting for the sound of the front door rebounding against the wall as she makes her escape.
However, the soft pad of her steps and the clicking of her dog’s claws on the slate come toward me, not breaking for the door. She hikes herself up on one of the bar stools. “What kind of rabbit is that?”
I don’t look at her or make a sound. I want her uncomfortable enough to leave.
“I’m guessing they’re snowshoe hares,” she continues chattering despite my silence. “They’re larger than cottontails. When I was a kid, one of our neighbors kept tame rabbits but they were smaller than these.”
Her dog sits at my feet, watching me clean the rabbit avidly.
“You like hockey?”
I jerk my gaze up to hers in a blistering glare. The part of me that used to love the game more than anything in the world throbs like a rotten tooth. “I don’t fucking play any longer if that’s why you’re here.”
She recoils but doesn’t get up to leave. Damn it. “Oh. You used to play? I think Ren said something about playing hockey as kids. That’s how he knows you. You’re all from the same town in Minnesota.”
My upper lip curls in the meanest grimace I can manage. “Don’t play coy with me.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean,” she stammers softly.
I pull my attention back to the rabbit, giving me something else to focus on while I breathe and regain my composure. I won’t let her poke at me until I turn into an angry bear. I’m the Mighty Zon. Ice flows through my veins.
I discard the innards into the empty bowl—though I accidentally on purpose let the heart slip through my fingers. The dog catches the tasty tidbit before it can hit the floor.
“Ugh, that’s gross. Don’t feed her raw meat!”
I can’t help but snort. “Dogs eat raw meat all the time, babe.”
She sucks in a loud breath as if I’ve offended her. Good. “Not my dog.”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have brought your dog into my fucking house, babe,” I say with even more disdain ringing behind the endearment. “If she pisses in here, I’m rubbing your face in it.”
“Skadi would never.” She somehow manages to sound both prim and proper—and yet scandalized at the same time. “Her food’s in my luggage. I can’t help it if she’s hungry. She doesn’t understand what’s good for her to eat. She’d eat a whole bar of chocolate too.”
I make fast work of the second rabbit—giving even more organs to the dog. I want her on my side. “If you’re waiting for a bellhop to fetch your bags, you’ll be waiting an eternity. I don’t cater to unwanted guests.”
“Well, joke’s on you, sir, because this unwanted guest doesn’t want to be here either. I’ll leave as soon as Ren gets back.”
Despite the prank, I like her. She doesn’t wilt or flinch from my bad attitude, even if she doesn’t understand why I’m being a bastard to her. “Sure you will.”
One thing I’ve learned about puck bunnies is they’re not leaving until they’ve had at least one of us.
Though ten times out of ten, Ren’s the lucky one.
He’s the charming Hotshot center, the star of the team, and he wasn’t above playing on the girls’ pity and using his injuries to get even more attention.
A twinge of jealousy surprises me enough I pause with the knife in my hand, staring down at the carcass. I’ve never cared about Ren getting all the women before.
I flick another dismissive look at her but under the cover of my hard, narrowed eyes and tight mouth, I’m intrigued enough to look her over again.
She’s attractive in the girl next door sort of way, curvy and cute and natural.
Though with a little lipstick on these luscious lips and something a little sexier than a hoodie and leggings, she’d be a knockout.
Who am I kidding? She’s already a knockout. She’s gotta be playing her looks down to try and get on my good side.
It sounds stupid in my head even as I think it. She can’t know what kind of woman I like. No one does. Not even my best friends.
Which is why Ren keeps trying to set me up with all these girls throwing themselves at him.
Damn it, I don’t like to be anyone’s second or third choice. Never have. So it’s better to shut it all down first. I only play games I can—and do—win.
Which makes my lips curve into a smug grin. Her eyes flare wide. She even recoils a little, as if braced to run for the front door after all.
If this is all a game, then it’s time to force her to play her shitty hand.
“Still here?” I drawl out in a low, silky tone. She swallows hard. “Well, Ren’s ladies never have much sense.”
“I’m not one of Ren’s ladies.” Her scandalized, prim and proper act squeaks. “I didn’t even know him until an hour ago.”
I lay the knife on the cutting board and turn to the sink to wash my hands. “Sure, babe, and I bet you’d like to sell me a bag of magical beans too.”
She huffs out a ragged laugh, but it’s strained. “So now we’re in a fairytale? I guess that makes you the evil giant.”
“I’ve been called worse.” I turn toward her causally, leaning my hip against the counter, drying my hands on a towel. “I am a big man. Bigger than Ren.”
As I hoped, she can’t resist running her gaze down my body. I watch the emotions flickering over her face. I’m not sure why her eyes round with surprise but her cheeks color a nice, soft pink, deepening to scarlet as I stalk the short distance toward her.
“Ren said he’d be right back,” she says quickly, looking back over her shoulder as if she expects him to pop in and yell, “surprise.”
I slip behind her and lock my fingers around the island’s edge, caging her between me and a couple hundred pounds of solid wood that won’t budge an inch.
“You must not leave the city often, babe,” I drawl out low, breathing in her ear without touching her.
“If you’re being stalked in the woods, you never take your eyes off the predator hunting you. ”
She stiffens, her shoulders vibrating with strain. “Am I in danger, Henrik?”
Her voice is surprisingly calm despite me hovering over her like the evil giant she compared me to. “Don’t you like it a little dangerous, babe?”
“Not really,” she retorts tartly.
Though she doesn’t demand I move away. She doesn’t tell me to fuck off.
I’m not the kind of man to press any woman against her wishes.
Fuck me, I haven’t even touched a woman in ages.
So long ago I can’t remember what it even feels like to hold something so small and delicate against me.
She smells good, sweet and warm like fresh cookies out of the oven. A dash of cinnamon on top.
Without even realizing it, I’m rubbing a strand of her hair between my fingers. Pure silk against the rough pads and callouses of a working man. I could palm her head like a basketball and snap her neck like a twig.
Not that I would. But I could.
The crux of all my issues when it comes to women.
“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I make my voice as soft and gentle as I can, but I still sound like an angry Kodiak roused from his long sleep. “At least be straight with me, babe.”
“I am. I have been.” Her voice trembles with an edge of fragility that arouses me—even as guilt tightens my throat. “I haven’t lied to you, Henrik. I’m not that kind of girl.”
I clench my jaws, fighting to control myself. Her hair tangles around my fingers as I tighten my grip, tugging her head back. Forcing her to bend her neck way back so I can see her eyes. Piercing blue, wide and shimmering.
With tears.
Fuck.