Odin Hill is making a move. Here in the woods during a rain storm, unexpected and out of nowhere, and I am not ready. Not at all.
And yet, I’ve dreamed of this moment happening. In fact, it’s actually happened in my dreams more than once.
Fantasy is about to become reality.
Do I want this? How could I not want this?
Odin Hill. The man. The demigod.
My mind flips out and short-circuits into white noise.
My body takes over as I close my eyes and lick my lips on instinct, anticipating the press of his mouth against mine.
Chapter Fourteen
Odin
Patsy’s still sniffing and pawing the ground like she’s found a treasure, but I’m too distracted by Daphne and the faint aroma of skunk spray lingering in the air.
Daphne’s closed her eyes and tipped her head back as if she’s waiting to be kissed.
By me.
Stranger things have happened in my life, but this moment definitely hits somewhere in the top twenty.
Patsy gives up her quest with a disappointed huff and tugs on her leash to get going.
Neither Daphne nor I have moved.
I take in the tiny freckles across her nose and cheekbones and the way the fine hairs along her forehead curl slightly, how her dark brows fade into points near her temples. Her skin is bright and clear without a trace of makeup, but her lips are a soft rose. Natural color or lipstick? My guess is the former.
A short, exasperated exhalation startles me from my musings.
She opens one eye while scrunching the other tight. “If you’re going to kiss me, quit taking so long.”
Patsy gives another tug and I lose my balance, landing on my ass. The fabric of my pants quickly turns damp from mud or water, or both.
“What? No, I wasn’t going to kiss you.” I bounce up and brush off the wet seat of my jeans.
First, she’s interrogating me, and then I find her almost asleep on a log. Now she thinks I’m making a move on her?
Her expression falls. “No, of course not.”
She can’t possibly be interested, not with the way she acts all suspicious and awkward around me. I recognize her behavior, been experiencing it my whole life—Odin, the hillbilly.
Given her hot-and-cold and downright odd behavior, I think Daphne might be drunk, possibly high. She’s been sneezing and blowing her nose, so she might be sick.
I also suspect the log she’s sitting on has recently been marked by a skunk, which I don’t think she realizes given her congestion.
“Come on, we need to get you home.” I hold out my hand but notice my palm is covered with mud. Rubbing both hands on my jeans, I attempt to clean away the dirt. The action is pointless and only serves to smear soil deeper into both skin and fabric.
Reluctantly, she stands, unsteady. “Well? Let’s go.”
She steps around Patsy and me and continues up the slope.
I swear the rain falls harder the closer we get back to the trailhead. After her initial quick pace, Daphne’s dragging her feet again. A wild look has settled in her eyes, and I’m not sure she’s even aware of where she is or who she’s with.
“What’s my name?” Holding out my slightly cleaner hand, I offer support over an uneven scramble of rocks.
“Vegetable Thor,” she mumbles with slumped shoulders.
I laugh. “Close enough.”
She refuses my gesture of goodwill and stomps past me. “Whatever. I know you’re committing nefarious deeds on federal land. You’re a bad man, Odin Hill.”
“Is that so?” I follow after her and grab her elbow when her boot slips in deep mud.
“I’m on to you, bub.” Jabbing her finger into my arm, she frowns. “Stupid vegetables.”
This woman makes no sense. One minute she’s accusing me of being a criminal, and the next she’s petting my bicep like a baby animal.
“Let’s get you inside and warmed up. You’re going to wind up sick if you stay out here any longer.” Reluctantly, I remove her hand from my bicep and use it to pull her along.
“Not sick,” she mumble-whispers.
“What?”
“I have allergies. That’s why I’m outside.”
Now I’m completely confused. “Some strange cure you read about online?”
“No, I sneezed and Gaia sent me home.”
“Did you get lost?”
She stares up at the heavy dark clouds. “We already covered this. No.”
“Then how did you end up in the woods?” She’s not making sense, but I get the feeling I should keep her talking if I want to make sure she makes it back to her place safely. If she can talk, she can walk. I really don’t want to have to carry her and hold Patsy’s leash.
“I saw your van at the trailhead and came looking for you.”
“Why?”
“To catch you.”
“Doing?”
She rolls her eyes. “Nefarious deeds on park property.”
“Can you give me a hint about what laws I’m breaking out here?”
She points at Patsy, who isn’t paying any attention to us as she meanders ahead, like she knows this whole situation is ridiculous and doesn’t want to get involved. Smart girl.
“Walking your pig, for one thing. Pets aren’t allowed on trails.”
“Busted.” I hold up my hands.
“You’re awfully cocky for someone who could be facing serious charges.”
“Do you have one of those citation pads? Are you going to write out a ticket? What’s my penance? Jail time or can I pay a fine? Will you take a check?” Searching for an imaginary checkbook, I pat my pockets.
“Don’t think you can talk your way out of this one. I’m immune to your charms and your bone structure. Your muscles won’t save you.”
From her fierce stare, I don’t think she realizes how hysterical she sounds. She lifts her arm and sneezes five times into her elbow.
I’m beginning to believe Daphne might be delirious.
Risking further finger jabs, I remove my glove and place my hand on her forehead beneath the rim of her official hat. The skin there is warm but not hot. I don’t think she has a fever.
“I’m fine. How many times do I need to tell people? Fine, fine, fine.” She sneezes again.
“We’re almost back to the campground. I’ll put Patsy in the van and escort you home.”
As she rolls her eyes again, her entire body sways with the movement.
“Humor me,” I tell her, more stern than I intend. The van is about five yards ahead. “Can you make it or do you want me to drive you?”
She mumbles something about kidnappers but waits while I load Patsy into her crate and secure the door.
“Walk or ride?” I point to the passenger door.
“Getting into a white panel van with a stranger? Thanks, but no thanks.”
I’m tempted to point out that I’m not really a stranger. She knows my first and last name, knows about my farm stand business, and could easily track down my home address if she asked Griffin.
“Suit yourself. Which one is your cabin?”
Waving behind her and then turning in that direction, she wanders away.
“Driving would’ve been the drier option, you know.” My stride lengthens to keep up with her.