Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“What? No, I'm not, I was just—” Flustered, she looks first at him, then at me. I just raise my eyebrows at her.
“Was just leaving,” Viking finishes for her. “Isn't that right?”
“Yes.” She power walks away like she's got somewhere important to be.
When you've got Viking glaring at you like that, I guess anywhere else is important. Then his glare turns my way, but it's definitely not the same one he used on the lady, because this one is dark, smoldering, and makes me want to walk towards him rather than away.
“What are you guys doing here?” I avert my eyes and keep heading towards the park. I can’t stop walking. Izzy's good at being calm when we're walking, but if I stop, she's going to get cranky, fast.
“What? No thank you?” Viking laughs. The fact that cars are lining up behind him doesn't seem to bother him and Bear at all. One of them blows by, laying on his horn and yelling something crude as he does.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Thank you so much for saving me from that terrifying woman. Whatever would I have done without you?”
“Don't get sassy with me, girl,” he grumbles, and the gravel in his voice has the hairs rising in the back of my neck. In a very, very good way. “Where are you going?”
“To the park, getting Izzy some air while it’s still warm. Are you guys going to trail me the whole way? People are starting to look, and you're going to get a ticket if you keep going at that speed.”
“Fuck this shit. Bear, park this somewhere.” Viking stops the van dead and gets out, ignoring the honking orchestra behind him. Instead of wearing a hoodie to cover up his cut, he's just shirtless.
I roll my eyes, but not before taking a good look. “Real subtle. No one's going to notice the ripped shirtless guy with braids in his beard and tattoos all over walking next to me.” Viking scowls. “Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture.” I try giving him a little smile. He was nearly as pissed as Hawk last time we talked, so maybe I shouldn’t antagonize the biker.
“Give me that,” he growls, and takes the baby carriage from me so he can push.
I let him have it, and laugh. “Really? You want to push? I'm not sure any man in the Family would be caught dead pushing a baby around.”
“Why the fuck not? My family’s from Sweden. We’re not afraid our dicks will fall off if we actually take care of our kids.”
“I guess that explains the whole Viking thing.” I gesture to his beard and tattoos. We reach the park, and I steer them towards the playground. “It's only like sixty today. Aren't you cold?”
“The warriors of Valhalla are never cold,” he replies with a straight enough face that for a moment I think he's actually serious, but then he shakes his head with a grin. “It's never bothered me. Blame the Scandinavian blood. What sucked was the desert when I was deployed. Summers were fucking brutal.”
“You were in the military?”
He shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. “Got in. Did my thing. Got out.”
“Yeah, okay.” This is strange. Not in a bad way, but like going on a first date with someone when you already know what their cock tastes like. “You're not mad anymore?”
He wets his lips, looking for a good answer. “Let's just say I've decided to move forward. Arguing over what has been isn't going to do shit. But if you ever pull bullshit like that on us again, I—”
“I won't!” I blurt out, cutting him off. “It was stupid. I still don't think it was all my fault, because I did try, but I could've pushed harder. It’s not like I had some big plan to keep you apart.”
Viking sighs. “We believe you, mostly. Hawk’s going to take longer. He's got his reasons.”
“Oh. Like?”
“Not my story to tell. I think he'll come around, and trust me when I say he'll do anything for Izzy. And I mean fucking anything, but for now, let him be. He's angry.”
“Right,” I say quietly, looking down at Izzy, who’s staring intently at Viking and totally oblivious to the drama she caused just by existing.
Bear strides across the grass towards us, his long legs eating up the distance. Izzy fusses until I get her out, and settle her in my lap. When she sees the baby yogurt—one of her first ventures into real people food—her hands go out immediately. “Easy, girl.”
She whimpers. If I don't get the food going quick, there's going to be noise.
I hold out her snack to Viking. “You feed her.”
“What?”
“What was that about real men and taking care of babies?”
“Give it here, smartass” Viking glares at me and seems annoyed that I questioned his parenting ability. He tears the cover off the yogurt and dips the spoon, coming out with what must be half the container.