Kristen Painter - All Fired Up

His mouth quirked slightly. “I am visible to all.”

“Great. Fabulous. Just what I was hoping for.” She rolled her eyes. “Try not to draw attention to yourself, okay? I grew up here. People know me.”

“Aye.” He stood on the landing, looking down the block.

Thanks to the steady drizzle, the street was empty. Calleigh opened the umbrella and handed it to him. She turned to lock the door and dropped her keys in the process. Bending to pick them up, she saw his bare toes.

Groaning, she locked the door and pointed at his feet. “Those are not going to work.”

He scrunched his brow and looked down. He flexed his toes. “My feet work very well.”

“Not barefoot, they don’t. You can’t go in the diner like that and besides, it’s rainy and cold.”

“Cold?” He held his hand out as if feeling the air. “This is not cold.”

“Well, it is to me. C’mon, we have to get you some shoes.”

They walked three blocks over to the Dollar Discount, where she bought him socks, a pair of sneakers, a sweatshirt and jeans. He came out of the restroom wearing his new clothes. Even in cheap duds he looked hot. She balled up the jersey and sweatpants and stuffed them in the store bag as they headed for the diner.

She calculated what she’d just spent. Lunch for a week. “You know, when I thought about getting a roommate, I imagined one with a job.”

“I have a job. I am a Phoenix.”

“So you’ve told me.” Why didn’t the cute ones come with brains?

Ahead of them, an elderly couple entered the diner. The man opened the door for the woman, letting her in ahead of him.

Alrik watched the couple, curiosity knitting his brows. “Why did the man do that?”

“Because a gentleman holds the door for a lady. Didn’t they do that in the other times you visited?” Or after that many years, she had him trained.

“I was not there to study the customs, just to grant the changes and be gone.” Alrik shifted the bag and umbrella to one hand and reached ahead of her to open the diner door.

She gave him a weak smile as she went by, denying the impulse to lean in and inhale his spicy scent. “So you’re a quick study. Whoopee for you.”

“Aye, whoopee for me.” He said it with such seriousness that she laughed in spite of her aching head.

They settled into a booth and a heavily made-up, bleached blonde in her late fifties handed them menus and filled two cups with hot, liquid caffeine. Calleigh set the menu down, knowing exactly what she wanted, and picked up the steaming cup of black coffee.

Alrik watched her over the top of his menu.

She sipped. Hot but not too hot. “Ah, that’s the stuff.” Her next swallow emptied half the mug.

He set the menu down, picked up his cup and took a big mouthful. His eyes widened. He choked but managed to swallow. “You are trying to poison me,” he bellowed.

Several patrons glanced over. Two teenage girls eating pancakes giggled. The waitress stopped, carafe in hand. “Honey, if you think the coffee’s bad, you should try the meatloaf.”

Calleigh held her cup up for a refill. “Poison me some more. I’ve got nothing to live for anyway.”

The waitress eyed Alrik before topping Calleigh’s coffee off with a wink. “You sure about that, honey? ‘Cause if you’re dying, leave me a little something in your will.”

Calleigh offered a polite smile. Lady, you have no idea.

“So, you two ready to order?”

Frustration played across Alrik’s face, so Calleigh stalled. “Give us another minute, please.”

The waitress sauntered away, hips swaying, and Calleigh leaned forward. “Can you order or do you need help?”

“None of this makes sense.”

“You can’t read, can you?”

He scowled. “Aye, I can read. I was a chieftain, not a thrall.” His words came out in a huff. “I just do not understand. What is corned beef hash ?”

“An afternoon of stomach trouble, if you order it here. Just stick to the basics, eggs, bacon, that kind of thing.”

A low, grumbling sound vibrated out of him.

“How about if I order for both of us? Nothing weird, I promise.”

“Aye, you have my permission.” He put the menu down.

She shook her finger at him. “Listen, buddy, I wasn’t asking your permission, I’m offering to help.” She slid some sugar packets toward him. “And try adding a few of these to your coffee. You’ll probably like it better that way.”

Calleigh waved to the waitress, then turned back to see Alrik drop the two paper packets in his cup. She fished them out with a spoon, set them on the saucer and tried not to laugh.

“You’re kind of dorky, you know that?” She sighed. Just her luck. Body by Soloflex, brains by Mattel.

“What is dorkee ?” His mouth quirked around the word.

“Never mind.” She ripped open two dry packets and dumped the sugar into his mug, giving it a stir before pushing the cup toward him. “Like this. Now, try it.”

He sipped the coffee and grimaced. “I still do not like it. I will have ale instead.”

“Not for breakfast you won’t.”

The waitress came back, pen and pad in hand. “What’ll it be, kids?”

“I’ll have the cheddar omelet, side of home fries and a large OJ,” Calleigh said.

“You want toast, bagel or bialy?”

“Bagel.”

“Egg, onion, everything, blueberry, or cinnamon raisin?”

“Cinnamon-raisin, toasted, buttered, schmeared.” Just the thought made Calleigh’s mouth water.

The woman smiled at Alrik. “And for you, honey?”

Calleigh answered for him. “He’ll have the same thing.”

“Coming up.” The waitress sheathed her pen in her hair helmet and headed for the counter.

Another sip of coffee and Calleigh started to feel human again. “Where are you from, exactly?”

“I am a Norseman.” His face glowed with pride.

“So you’re Norse? Doesn’t explain why you smell like cinnamon.” Did he taste like it, too?

“What?” He canted his head to the side.

“Never mind. So you’re Norwegian.” Who knew the Norse were such hotties?

He shrugged. “Your history names my people as Vikings.”

“You’re a Viking? Uh-huh. Sure, that makes sense. I’m having breakfast with a Viking. That’s perfectly normal.” No wonder he looked like he belonged on the cover of a romance novel. “Save the raping and pillaging until after we’re done eating, will you?”

His eyes narrowed, his expression deadly serious. “I was chieftain of my clan as was my da before me. I am a man of honor.”

“If you’re the chieftain, shouldn’t you be wearing one of those helmets with the horns?”

Another scowl crossed his face. “I have never in my life worn such a thing.”

By the way he clenched his fork, she decided to change the subject. “Forget the helmet. Explain this phoenix thing to me.”

“This meal house is not the right place for such a conversation.”

“Really? Top secret stuff, huh?” She fiddled with the paper napkin, twisting the edge into a little point.

“You are jesting with me, but I am serious.”

“All right, fine. We’ll talk about it later.” She sighed. “I take it you’ll be following me home?”

“Aye.” He nodded, suddenly pleased. “You are smarter than a horse.”

“If that’s supposed to be a compliment, you might want to rethink it.” Despite the odd remark, she liked that he was smiling again. His smile made her feel a little fluttery. Or maybe it was the hangover.

A few minutes later, the waitress returned with two white china plates, heavy with greasy goodness. Calleigh’s mouth watered at the slightly burnt, oniony aroma of the fried potatoes.