Chapter 9 #2
Dom was always very careful with her words, and he was sure she was treading lightly so as not to call him a chickenshit.
But it wasn’t that he was afraid of wielding MC.
It was that he simply couldn’t—no matter how hard he tried.
If that was subconscious reluctance, so be it, but he’d never been able to overcome it.
“You won’t insult me by thinking my reluctance to take ownership of MC is because I’m weak or afraid.
Maybe I am, but what it boils down to is this: I’ve never been able to pick him up.
My father claims it’s psychological, and maybe it is.
Maybe my beef with my father keeps me from taking the position he abandoned, the way he abandoned us. ”
Wow, had he just said that out loud?
Jesus Christ. Talk about oversharing.
Dom’s gaze was thoughtful. “You’re angry with your father for his infidelities, and you should be.
Here’s something I’ve been wondering, and it really has nothing to do with you being weak or anything like that, because I don’t at all think you’re weak for not being able to pick up MC.
It has to do with your father. How can he be pure of heart if he cats around? Is infidelity pure of heart?”
Harvey had once wondered the same thing, and the answer was both simple and complicated, as explained by his old friend, MC.
“No. Infidelity isn’t pure of heart, but how he handles the good of his people is.
My father, philander that he presents, also knows how to navigate tough waters when it comes to making decisions for the good of the world at large.
He’s wise. His head is level. He’s not rash.
He wants what’s best for his people—your people.
That levelheadedness prevails, taking precedence over any affair he might indulge. ”
Dom popped her strawberry-colored lips, tucking deeper into her puffy jacket as the firelight played over her soft cheeks.
“That makes sense, I suppose.” Then she cocked her head.
“Listen, how about we don’t talk about MC and duties and infidelity anymore tonight?
My eyeballs are swimming from all the information in my head about Asgard and Midgard and my newly acquired enemies.
Let’s talk about normal stuff. As if we’ve just met, and I don’t hold the fate of the world in my hands. ”
Harvey could only imagine how taxing that had become. “Normal stuff?”
She leaned forward, hugging Dude to her chest, her grin impish. “Let’s start at the beginning. I’m Dominique Acosta, ex cosmetics salesperson, newly minted multimillionaire.” She held out her hand with a snicker.
Harvey gave it a firm shake. “Harvey Larsen. Shipwright, pet owner, probably older than Methuselah and if not, at least as old as dirt. I like my steak medium-rare, my pasta al dente, my favorite soft drink is root beer.”
She wrinkled her pert nose. “Root beer, huh? I don’t drink soda often, but if I do, it’s an ice-cold Pepsi, definitely not a root beer. Oh, and hot dogs!” she said excitedly, with a clap of her hands. “I love hot dogs. I know they’re bad for me, and my papa hated them, but I love ’em.”
“Mustard and relish? Or ketchup?”
“Lots of spicy mustard, onions, and sauerkraut, no relish.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when Asgard has their annual barbecue.”
She appeared surprised. “Asgard has an annual barbecue?”
He knew his words were warm when he said, “Asgard has many things. An annual barbecue is just one of many celebrations. I think, when the time is right and we’re not in such chaos, you’d enjoy a visit.
” If he were honest, he’d admit he missed many aspects of Asgard—except for his father breathing down his neck.
“I think I’d like that,” she said softly. “Now, enough of the superficial stuff, like what kind of music you listen to or how you take your eggs—”
“Over medium, no runny stuff,” he teased.
Dom cocked her head, the cascade of curls falling over her arm. “Really? I like mine scrambled. Anyway…I want to know something deep about you.”
“Define deep,” he coaxed. She already knew his biggest weakness. He wasn’t ashamed of it. It was just the truth, and he’d never been afraid to share the truth.
“Well, maybe not deep-deep. It’s a question I read in an article in a magazine in the waiting room at my papa’s doctor’s office. You ready?”
“Shoot.”
“What’s a belief you had as a kid that you still hold to this day, even though you know it’s utterly ridiculous?”
Harvey blinked. He’d expected her to ask what his favorite color was. “That’s deep?”
She nodded, her eyes intense in the firepit’s light. “It’s going to give me deep insight into your psyche. The article said so.”
Harvey frowned. “Really?”
“No, silly. It’s just a fun question.”
“Um, okay. Carrots are good for your eyesight. I hated them as a kid, but I ate them because I was afraid I’d go blind. To this day, I still don’t love carrots, but I’ll never pass one up because of the fear my mother instilled in me as a kid.”
Dom laughed, a tinkle of a giggle. “I do like carrots, but my mother said the same thing. I guess mortals and immortals aren’t so different, huh?
Now for me, it was something one of my childhood friends told me at a sleepover.
She said if I slept with my feet outside the covers, monsters would bite my toes.
No matter how hot I get, I still sleep with my feet under the covers. ”
“In Asgard, that’s true,” he said with all seriousness, leaning toward her.
Dom let out a small gasp, her blue eyes wide. “Seriously?”
Harvey barked a laugh. “No.”
She swatted at his arm with a chuckle. “You jerk. Why wouldn’t I believe in monsters biting my toes when you guys have a hammer that talks?”
He grinned, grabbing her fingers to entwine them with his, and he didn’t even realize it, it happened so naturally. “Fair point.”
She stroked Dude’s back while he snored in contentment. “Okay, different track entirely. If Hollywood was going to make a movie about you, who would you pick to play you? And you can’t say Chris Hemsworth,” she teased.
Harvey puffed up his chest and gave her a saucy glance. “He is the obvious choice, don’t you think?”
She grinned back, just as saucy. “He is, but I think he’s busy with all those Marvel movies. So c’mon, who would it be?”
Running a hand over his chin, he popped his lips. “I don’t know, but I know who could have played you.”
“Really,” she whispered, low and soft. “Who?”
“Audrey Hepburn. It isn’t so much your looks, though you do have her long neck, but it’s the way you dress, your quirky personality.”
She looked down at her clothes, plucking at the flannel shirt she wore. “The way I dress? Have you seen me lately? I look like Lumberjack Larry.”
Harvey leaned in even closer, fascinated by her soft, full lips, drawn to their movement. “I kinda like what you’re wearing, and if Audrey Hepburn had to wear flannel shirts and work boots because she was the new protector of the world, I’m pretty sure she’d wear what you have on.”
Dom’s smile was soft, so alluring when she said with a breathy sigh, “Gosh, I love Audrey Hepburn. My mother did, too. In my mind, she was everything feminine and soft, but feisty and smart. When everyone else wanted to emulate Gwen Stefani or Britney Spears, I wanted to be Audrey in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. How weird that you chose her.”
“Weird? Or perceptive? Anyway, then I guess I’d have to choose George Peppard to play me in a movie about me.”
Dom appeared shocked. “You know the movie?”
Somehow, during their “deep-ish” conversation, their chairs had moved even closer together, the scent of her perfume, warm and fruity, lingering in his nose. “I’m familiar with a lot of movies. You forget how old I am.”
She cocked her head, her luscious mouth but inches from his. “How old are you, anyway?”
“A lot older than you.” But he didn’t want to think about their ages. He wanted to kiss her. Soundly, softly, all over…
Cupping her jaw, Harvey leaned in until their lips touched—and it was as explosive as it had been when she’d planted one on him a couple of days ago.
Dom sank into him with a small sigh, her mouth parting to accept his tongue—just as he felt an intrusive knuckle drive into his shoulder.
“Excuse me, Thor’s weird offspring, but could you two put your bangxiety away for a minute? Some shit’s going down that needs your attention.”
They both pulled away from each other, Dom’s eyes reflecting his own guilt. Harvey looked up at Nina. “What’s going on?”
“Some dude named Heimdall gave MC a little ring-a-ling. You’d better get the fuck inside and find out what’s going on, because it didn’t sound good.”
He jumped to his feet, his pulse racing. Heimdall hadn’t called upon anyone in a long time, least of all him. Shit, shit, shit.
“Who’s Heimdall?” Dom asked, as she, too, rose, handing a sleepy Dude over to Nina, who tucked him into her shoulder.
Nina smiled. “If he’s the same guy from the Marvel movies, he can see and hear everything in the universe, or some such all-knowing, all-seeing shit.”
Dom’s eyes flew to Harvey, panic in her voice. “But I thought you said your world wasn’t like the Marvel movies?”
Running a hand over his stubbled jaw, Harvey gave a curt nod. “I said it has similarities, and Heimdall is one of them.”
“And if we’re fucking lucky, he won’t just have the same paranormal abilities, he’ll look like him, too,” Nina joked.
Dom looked at her. “Who plays Heimdall in the movies?”
Nina snickered. “Idris Elba.”
She gave Nina a saucy grin. “Then I guess we’d better go see what Heimdall wants, huh?”
The two women scampered off to the castle, but Harvey wasn’t as anxious to get inside. Whatever Heimdall had contacted MC about, it couldn’t be good.
Shit, shit, shit.