“Yeah... that would be me,” I say, glaring down at him. I know it wasn’t smart looking away from the road, but people do it all the fucking time! Changing songs on an iPod, changing radio stations, hell, looking down to grab your coffee so you can take a swallow.
“Shit, woman, what the hell is wrong with you?” He groans, going up on his elbows, looking down at his long legs. How tall is this guy? “I am not hard to miss.”
I tamp down on the smile that wants to make my lips move, because, well, the situation doesn’t call for it. I don’t want him to think I’m a maniac – just a wrong person, wrong time kinda thing. Better chance of me getting his number later.
“I looked away for two seconds, I swear! Shit, how’s your head? You think you have a concussion or something?”
The Viking closes his eyes, and lets out a real man-sigh. The kind of sigh that’s almost theatrical, like he’s suffering my very presence. No need to be rude.
“I don’t know; I’m not a doctor.” He pins me with a glare, and I have trouble getting to feet. No one has ever looked at me with that much dislike before, even for a second. Unless it’s jealous bitches eye-fucking my shoes.
Sweet Virgin Mary, thank you so very much for not letting this big lug die.
“Never said you were. C’mon, I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
The Viking smirks, and it does something to his face that gives him a bad-boy charm. My inner thighs start to quiver. Oh, this is going to be fun.
“I really don’t think me getting into a car with you is a good idea,” he says, getting himself upright. Holy fucking shit, he’s Viking-tall, too! And now that he is vertical, I can see his hair is long, and he’s got enough scruff on his face that makes me think of beard burn in all the right places.
Yup, the tips of my hair could so be on fire right now, and I wouldn’t even notice.
“Shit, I’ve lost one of my contacts.” He bends down at the waist and glares down at the street, like it’ll just flip over and give him his contact lens no problem.
I clear my throat, announcing that I’m going to talk. “Look, I’m not too sure about this, but I’m pretty sure we should go to the emergency at the General so you can get your head checked out.”
Just when I think he’s going to heed my flawless logic, he does nothing of the sort, and takes a look at my hood and lets out a long whistle. Hello, he’s looking at my car, instead of looking at me? What the hell?
“I would say sorry that I did that to your car, but you know, that was before I had to hop up on the hood to stop you from breaking both my legs.”
The Viking leans down again, bending at the waist and lunges forward for a discarded messenger bag that was nowhere on my radar. I shiver when a cold breeze hits my open coat, and really hope the girls aren’t making a face and standing at attention. Then again, flash away.
He loops his bag around his neck and shoulder and pats down the contents, grabbing onto the bulges in the pack, making sure everything’s there.
“Woah,” he says, looking at me full-on for the first time since I made his brain do the wave in his skull. Finally, a proper reaction. But now he’s looking at me like I have a speaking tumor growing out of my head.
I snap my coat closed over my chest now freezing chest and give him my Italian stare, the very one that’s full of all the Mafiosos who’ve ever lived and sworn vengeance on another family.
And the Viking doesn’t even budge or have the decency to look scared out of his mind.
“What’s got your face looking like that?” I ask, cinching the belt of my trench coat. Holy hell, when did October start getting so cold? I start mentally planning my trip to the Bahamas, or wherever there’s a ton of sun for my winter vacation. Montreal winters only get worse from here on in.
“Easy there. Take the hellfire out of your eyes for a second,” he says.
I squint at him. I really just want to get him in the car and bring him to my apartment and have my way with him. I mean, after I bring him to hospital and he gets a clean bill of health.
Maybe I should ask the doctor that he gets a full blood work-up, too, in case he’s got something funky going on in his underwear. I don’t care if I’m being presumptuous... this guy is HOT. And sometimes a girl just needs a good roll in the hay and not have to finish herself off.
Yeah, this Viking dude sure looks like a giver, and I’m signing up for that train ride.
But... the way he said hellfire has me frowning. I swear to God, if this guy is a -
“Shit. My poor skateboard! You will be missed oh, faithful steed.” I start blushing for him.