"Oh. My. God." She's looking at me with undisguised interest. "Auntie Dalla. You didn't tell me your bodyguard was hot."
"Tindra," Meghan sighs.
"What? I'm just stating facts. Look at him. He's like a broody Irish romance novel come to life." She circles me like I'm a sculpture in a museum. "The jaw. The eyes. The whole 'I'll kill anyone who touches her' vibe. Auntie Dalla, how do you get any work done?"
"I manage," Dalla says dryly.
"I wouldn't. I'd just stare at him all day." Tindra finally stops circling and sticks out her hand. "Tindra. I'm the cool niece."
"Nice to meet you."
"You too, Hot Bodyguard." She winks, then bounces over to Dalla, linking their arms together. "Okay, you have to tell me everything. And I meaneverything. How did this happen? When did it happen? Is he as intense in bed as he looks? Because?—"
"Kitchen," Meghan interrupts firmly. "Now. Both of you. You can gossip while you help me with the salad."
She herds the younger women away, leaving me standing in the living room with Tor and the distant sound of Runes and Fern talking.
"She's something, isn't she?" Tor says, nodding toward where Tindra disappeared. "My daughter. Twenty-four years old and still hasn't figured out that filter between brain and mouth."
"She seems... spirited."
Tor laughs. "That's one word for it. The last time Greer came out here she got one look at her and keeps trying to sign her to some modeling contract. Tindra keeps saying she'd rather 'do literally anything else.' I think she's holding out for competitive eating."
I don't know if he's joking or not.
"Sit," Tor says, gesturing to the couch. "Dinner won't be ready for another twenty minutes, and I want to talk to you."
I sit, suddenly wary.
This is Dalla's older brother.
In some ways, his opinion matters more than Runes'.
But instead of an interrogation, Tor just settles into the armchair across from me and grins.
"Relax. I'm not going to threaten you."
"You're not?"
"Nah. Dad already did that, I'm sure. And honestly?" He shrugs. "I think it's hilarious. My baby sister, falling for her bodyguard. It's like something out of a movie."
"I'm glad our relationship amuses you."
"Oh, it does. Immensely." His grin fades slightly, becoming something more serious. "But I can also see how you look at her. Like she's the center of your universe. Like you'd burn down the world if someone tried to take her from you."
"I would."
"I know." He nods. "That's why I'm not worried. Dalla's never had someone look at her like that. She deserves it." A pause. "Just don't hurt her, yeah? Because if you do, I won't threaten you. I'll just kill you."
"Fair enough."
"Good." His grin returns. "Now, let me tell you about the time Dalla accidentally set the clubhouse kitchen on fire trying to make toast. She was twelve, and?—"
"Tor!" Dalla's voice carries from the kitchen. "Whatever you're telling him, stop!"
"I'm telling him nothing! Just family history!"
"That's what I'm afraid of!"
