A Thousand Boy Kisses(51)

Reaching forward, Rune adjusted the heater above us to its highest setting, only relaxing back in his chair when the flames roared higher behind their iron guard. My heart melted when he brought our joined hands to his mouth, the back of my hand brushing back and forth over his lips in a hypnotic motion.

Rune’s eyes were fixed on the water. Even though I adored the trees embracing the water in a protective cocoon, as much as I loved to watch the ducks dip and dive, the cranes swoop and soar above the surface, I could only watch Rune.

Something had changed in him from last night. I didn’t know what. He was still abrupt and surly. There was darkness in his personality; his aura warned almost all to stay well clear.

But now there was a new edge of possession with regard to me. I could see the fierceness of that possession in his stare. I could feel it in his grip on my hand.

And I liked it.

As much as I missed the Rune I knew, I watched this Rune with renewed fascination. Right now, sitting beside him in a place that meant so much to us both, I was perfectly content to be in the company of this Rune.

More than content.

It made me feel alive.

The server arrived: a guy, maybe in his twenties. Rune’s hold tightened on my hand. My heart swelled.

He was jealous.

“Hey, y’all. Can I get y’all started with some drinks?” the server asked.

“Can I get a sweet tea, please?” I replied, feeling Rune stiffen beside me.

“Root beer,” Rune barked. The server quickly retreated. When he was out of earshot, Rune snapped, “He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

I shook my head and laughed. “You’re crazy.”

Rune’s forehead lined with frustration. This time it was his turn to shake his head. “You have no idea.”

“About what?” I asked, moving my free hand to trace a couple of new scars on Rune’s knuckles. I wondered where they were from. I heard his breathing hitch.

“About how beautiful you are,” he replied. He was watching my finger as he said it. When my finger stopped he looked up.

I stared at him, lost for words.

Finally, Rune’s lip hooked at the side into a crooked half-smile. He shifted closer to me. “Still drinking sweet tea, I see.”

He remembered.

Gently nudging his side, I said, “Still on the root beer, I see.”

Rune shrugged. “Can’t get it back in Oslo. Now I’m back, I can’t get enough of the stuff.” I smiled and began re-tracing his hand. “Turns out I can’t get enough of a few things I couldn’t get back in Oslo.”

My finger stopped moving. I knew exactly what he was talking about: me.

“Rune,” I said, the guilt lying thick within me.

I looked up to try and apologize again, but as I did, the server arrived, placing our drinks on the table. “Y’all ready to order?”

Without breaking my gaze, Rune said, “Two crawfish boils.”

I felt the server hanging by, but after a tense few seconds, he said, “I’ll get that to the kitchen then,” and edged away.

Rune’s eyes moved from my face to my ears, where that flicker of a smirk remerged. I wondered what had caused him this moment of happiness. Rune leaned forward, and with the backs of his fingers he pushed the hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

His fingertip traced down the outline of my ear, then he let out a comforting sigh. “You still wear them.”

The earrings.

My infinity earrings.

“Always,” I confirmed. Rune looked up at me with heavy eyes. “Forever always.”

Rune dropped his hand, but he caught the ends of my hair between his finger and thumb. “You cut your hair.”

It sounded like a statement, but I knew it was a question.

“My hair grew back,” I said. I saw him stiffen. Not wanting to break tonight’s magic with talk of illness or treatment, things that I paid no mind to anyhow, I leaned in and pressed my forehead to his.

“I lost my hair. Fortunately, hair grows.” Drawing back, I playfully flicked at my bob. “Plus, I kinda like it. I think I suit it. Lord knows it’s easier to handle than the mountain of frizz I fought against all those years.”

I knew it had worked when Rune huffed a single quiet laugh. Continuing the joke, I added, “Plus, only Viking men should wear their hair long. Vikings and bikers.” I scrunched up my nose as I pretended to study Rune. “Unfortunately you don’t have a bike…” I trailed off, laughing at the hard look on Rune’s face.

I was still laughing when he pulled me into his chest and, with his mouth at my ear, said, “I could get a bike, if that’s what you want. If that’s what it would take to win back your love.”

He said it as a joke.

I knew he did.

But it brought me up short. So short that I stilled, the humor draining out of me. Rune noticed the shift. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he swallowed whatever he was going to say.

Letting my heart rule my actions, I lifted my hand and dropped my palm to lie upon his face. Making sure I had his undivided attention, I whispered, “It wouldn’t take a bike to do that, Rune.”

“No?” he questioned, his voice husky.

I shook my head.

“Why?” he asked nervously. Redness blossomed on his cheeks. I could see what that question had cost his heavily fortified pride. I could see that Rune didn’t ask anything anymore.