"There you go."
His fingers brushed my hand as he gave me back my phone.
For the second time in a handful of minutes, a jolt of heat went through me. First from Forrest, now from Leif Larsen. What was going on with me? I'd spent so long hiding from any kind of relationships. Any connection, especially physical. Now I had two men making my blood hot?
I got the impression I'd be hearing from Leif before he was ready to do any decorating for me. The idea was terrifying, but not unappealing.
I put my phone down and dug into my nachos. "These are really good."
"They are." Leif leaned over and grabbed a chip that was sticking out the side of my bowl. He toasted me with it before popping it into his mouth. "This place does tasty things so well."
He wasn't talking about the nachos.
I swallowed before I choked on my mouthful.
"So, you're friends with Woody Taylor-Francis?" Did I want to talk about him? Not really, but it seemed like a good idea to get the topic out of the way at the outset.
"Maybe. What did he tell you?" Leif asked.
"He didn't mention you. He was kind of busy trying to kill me," I said.
"Hmm, sounds like Woody," Leif said. "He’s always trying to kill someone."
"How often does he try to kill you?" I asked.
"To be honest, it's been a while," Leif said. "Either he's given up, or he's waiting for the right opportunity."
The smile in his eyes suggested he was joking. I wasn't so sure.
"He tried to kill you?"
"Absolutely," Leif said, shaking his head. "The first time we met, he almost shot me. I had to do some fast talking to convince him not to. He can be stubborn when he puts his mind to something."
My eyes widened.
"He almost shot you?" How had this man never been arrested?
"Yeah, but it was a misunderstanding," Leif said easily. "He thought I was someone I wasn't. When he realized, he decidednot to shoot me. I guess you could say it worked out well for everyone."
"And you're still friends with him?" I asked.
"When you get to know him, he's a pretty good guy," Leif said. "I don't really hold a grudge. Lucky for him, orI'dbe looking for the opportunity to killhim."
Right. I couldn't decide if these men were out of their minds or not. Trying to kill someone didn't say 'friendship' to me. Was it some weird male bonding thing?
"He also saved my life once," Leif added. "A guy tried to mug me. Woody chased him off."
"Are you sure it wasn't Woody who tried to mug you?" I asked.
"I don't think Woody would make a very good mugger. I'll have to suggest it to him. It'll give him a laugh."
"Don't encourage him," Forrest said.
"That sounds like a good idea," I said. Woody didn't need more encouragement to be violent.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Leif said. He nodded toward the ice. "They're starting warm-ups."
"Your brother is number sixty-nine, right?" I peered through the glass, trying to spot him. It wasn't difficult. Mikko Larsen had hair so blonde it was almost white. Curls peeked out from under the back of his helmet. He was also about six-foot-six. Someone like that was difficult to miss.
