Page 2 of He Likes it Spicy

Traveling with a circus has exposed me to all manner of people. I’m friends with twins who stick bits of metal in themselves for fun. One of our acts is a strong woman who can lift audience members over her head.

The man before me now, the man pinning this fake cowboy to the table with ease, is a true behemoth.

He’s the type of big that requires special shopping trips to special stores to find shoes that come in abnormal sizes.

His clothes hug his body like someone managed to get a set of blue jeans and a white t-shirt onto a bull.

The muscles in his cannon arms are taught with effort, ready to fire.

He smiles down at me as if the fake cowboy isn’t doing everything he can to break free.

“Sorry about him.” His voice reaches a depth that shakes me, seems to rise up from inside of me. That accent is strange—country with a Nordic twist. “Some folks have no manners.”

I stare into eyes so crystal-clear blue that I feel like I’ve been plunged into the cleanest lake water in the highest mountain. Two precious gems placed perfectly into a face chiseled from granite, still slate-like in its angles and cliffs.

I nearly forgot about the idiot drenched in lemonade.

“Let me go you son of a bitch!”

The big man still smiles at me. “You going to behave?”

Who exactly was that question for? Right now, behaving is the last thing on my mind…

“Fuck off,” his hog-tied prisoner squeals.

He twists the man’s arm.

“OK! OK! I’ll behave!”

My bodyguard releases him and immediately steps between us. I feel like I’ve just been eclipsed. A great wall of man meat has formed before me. The asshole cowboy must be as shocked as I am by the size of my rescuer because he bolts without another word.

People who stopped to watch a fight all disperse, disappointed and off to find the next most entertaining thing. The big man turns around, smiling like a gentle giant.

“I’m Thor.”

Of course, he is.

“Sam…”

Thor cautiously runs the tip of his finger up my right arm. It drags along my skin, trailing goosebumps in its wake as he slips the strap of my dress over my shoulder.

I’ve never wanted someone to keep touching me so badly.

“There,” he hums. “Perfect.”

“T-thank you…”

“Of course, Valkyrie. ” He winks. “May I buy you a lemonade, Sam?”

See? Is that so hard? Why can’t men just ask instead of telling me what’s going to happen?

I turn to the vendor; she’s already handing me another plastic cup. “You gonna throw one at him, too?”

“That remains to be seen.” I’d love to see Thor soaking wet but under wildly different circumstances. “You know who I am?”

“Your picture is everywhere,” Thor says. “Our little fair doesn’t usually draw such celebrity.”

Without even thinking about it, I start walking with Thor. Strolling, really. He slows down his giant’s gate to keep pace with me.

“ Celebrity is a strong word.”

“Looks like you’re getting plenty of unwanted attention.” Thor stares down a gaggle of guys as we pass, forcing them to pretend they aren’t staring at my legs. “I’d call that celebrity.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s part of the job. Thanks for helping me out back there.”

He shrugs those broad shoulders as if no weight could hold him down. “You had it handled. I was saving him from you.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course. You were two seconds away from jamming that stiletto up his ass.”

My little snort of a laugh hiccups out of me.

I blush and bite my lower lip; Thor looks at me like he just realized that I’m exactly his type.

God, I hope I’m his type.

Just once, I’d love to meet a guy at one of these fairs who can show me a good time for the weekend.

It doesn’t have to be love or fate or any of that crap.

Is it too much to ask for some great sex and a nice place to spend the night so I don’t have to listen to three clowns snoring in our trailer?

I don’t even care that he looks a little older than me…

all right, maybe a lot older, but so what?

I’m in need of the touch of a good man, and Mr. Buzz-cut in Blue Jeans is proving to be plenty good.

“You must be heading to the cook-off,” Thor says, hands in his pockets. “May I walk you?”

There he goes, being a perfect gentleman again. Great sex seems more likely every time he opens his mouth…

“How’d you know?”

“I heard the Valkyrie is a guest judge this year.”

“Were you going to the cook-off to get a glimpse of me, then?”

I’m not teasing; I’m testing.

Thor smiles and lets his eyebrows bounce once. “Something like that.” He holds out his arm. “Shall we?”

I gladly take the excuse to dig my fingers into his beefy bicep. It’s like holding onto a warm boulder. He guides me through the fair, past dingy carnival games, vendors selling homemade soaps, lotions, and candles, and artists attempting to pay their rent for the month through a few sales.

Thor tells me that he’s a retired construction foreman ( much older, I guess ) and that he built most of the new houses in town.

His jolly laugh is not shy to come out, and his smile makes me feel like this dress is too tight, too boiling.

The summer sun seems thirty degrees stronger with his arm in mine.

When we come to the edge of the fairgrounds—near one of those spinny rides that makes everyone puke—the smell of warm spices fills the air.

A wide horseshoe of multicolored pop-up tents surrounds a small wooden stage with a white table and three chairs.

At least the stage is shaded. I can already make out the stupid paper placard Charles must have made for me sitting on the judges’ table.

Next to my last-minute placard is a more official-looking wooden block with the name Thor Larsen etched in gold lettering.

I glance at my massive escort, and he smiles.

“Looks like you’ll be sitting next to me for the competition, Valkyrie.”

Yes, please…