“Declan Heyworth allows you to invite people to his hallowed halls? I thought invites to the castle only come from the prince?”
He nods toward the door. “Get your coat on.”
“First, answer my question. What if we get to Heyworth House, and Declan refuses to let my friends come in?”
“He won’t.”
Feigning harassment, I stand. “No promises about going to all the same places, but I’ll see whether my friends are willing to skip sushi tonight.”
Sorensen opens the door and waits. It’s already freezing in his place, so I don’t want more cold air let in than is absolutely necessary. I pull my coat on and hustle across the room, snagging my purse along the way.
Outside, he pulls the door closed and guides me down the stairs and out to the truck. I’m surprised when he circles around the SUV to open and hold the passenger door for me. I like it, but I still ignore his offered free hand, using the handhold to climb in instead.
The Viking’s expression doesn’t change. He couldn’t care less whether I’m cold to him or not. Typical. And perversely, that makes me want to get under his skin even more.
This situation is not going to end well.
8
ERIK
Arya Peralta doesn’t know what the hell she wants.
The truck bounces over uneven ground, and she grabs the hand-hold next to the visor. “Why are we taking this shitty dirt road?”
My gaze scans the landscape through the windshield. We’re passing through a wooded corridor along the river. In summer, the view would be obscured, but with the trees and bushes bare, I can see the black winter water.
“I like the view.”
“Of brown branches and sticks? Yeah, it’s scenic as hell.”
She crosses her left leg over the right and taps her right foot. Her nervous energy vibrates through the truck as much as the rough road. What she could use is a release.
The SUV bucks over a deep hole, and her left hand grabs the edge of her seat as she gasps.
“Can we take a different route? So we get to Heyworth’s this year?”
“Didn’t realize you were so sensitive. You flip across the floor when you’re dancing. Never seems to bother you.”
She blows out a breath and shakes her head.
“That’s what I thought.” My dubious tone causes her to turn her head to look at me.
“What?”
“You like to bitch.”
Rolling her eyes, her head turns forward again. When we reach a stop sign, she reaches over and flicks my blinker on, indicating to no one but me that she wants me to turn left and head to the main road.
I grab her wrist so fast she doesn’t have a chance to withdraw her hand.
“Let go, Viking.”
Resting her arm across my leg pulls her farther in my direction. I let the car idle at the stop sign with the blinker on.
“You like to dish it out, but you can’t take it.”
“Can’t take what?” Her tone is skeptical as she tries to drag her arm away by leaning in the other direction. My grip tightens to prevent her from gaining back an inch.
