Page 5 of He Likes it Spicy

SAM

Adrenaline carries me as I head back to the staging area. The crowd is still losing it; I’ve never heard applause so loud, not for me.

I brace myself for Charles’s wrath. Going off script is perhaps his biggest pet peeve. It’s his show. He constantly reminds us that we’re just the talent borrowing his stage. He always has the final say.

Everyone else greets me with claps on the back and high praise. Our resident magician, The Mystic Luther—or Kyle, according to his driver’s license—winks at me.

“Not bad,” he says. “Though, I could see the rose before you pulled it out.”

“Magician’s eyes. I think the crowd bought it.”

“And so did your man.”

I roll my eyes, barely able to contain my smile. He did, didn’t he? Thor never took his eyes off me…

We’re all in the midst of our post-show-sugar-rush when Charles bursts through the flap and throws his arms up like he’s trying to summon fire. “Samantha!”

Time to face the music.

“Oh, hey, Charles…” I try to act nonchalant. “I’m sure you’re wondering about that little bit in the middle there. I can explain…”

“Explain? Explain!?” He stomps right up to me, puts his hands on my shoulders, and pulls me into a big, bouncing hug.

“Explain how much that crowd loved it!? Listen. Listen! ” He puts a hand to his ear dramatically as if we can’t feel the roar of the audience.

“You seized them, Samantha! You brought them to rapturing heights! Ascended! My… my… Tell me, how did you choose the man? He even looks a bit mythical himself. Why, he could match Hilda in a test of strength! A Nordic God!”

Hilda scoffs, already having a beer, still sweaty from lifting audience members over her head. “As if.”

“I jest!” Charles twirls, clearly in a fine mood. To him, applause equals money. “But, tell me, Samantha: how did you choose that God of a man out there?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Mark laughs, clearly feeling good after his better-than-usual performance. “That’s the Chili King of the Sweetheart County Fair. They’re the talk of the fairgrounds. Everyone knows they’ve got something simmering…”

My circus family whistles and gives me a hard time. Clearly, I’m blushing like a schoolgirl because Charles looks absolutely horrified.

“ What? How did you meet this man?”

“The cook-off,” I say. “You know, that stupid thing you made me judge to sell more tickets? Thor won the competition last year. He showed me the ropes today.”

“Thor!?” Charles whines as if the name pains him. “Oh, no. No. No. NO, Samantha. You know how I feel about carnival romances. Distraction! Unnecessary risk! A lack of focus! Need I remind everyone of Mark’s little affair in Ohio? We all know how that turned out...”

Mark loses his smile in an instant; the clowns do their best to comfort the poor guy and his broken heart.

I shrug, already heading back out through the flap. “Like you said, Charles, the crowd loved it.”

“ Focus! ”

The tent has mostly emptied, only a small gaggle of people are still shuffling out. A few stop me for photos, and I happily oblige. Thor is sitting on the hay bales, watching me cross the arena with a smile on his face. The rose is still in his hand.

“That was quite the show,” he calls out to me.

I point my toes and twirl into a few Chaplin-esque stumbling steps.

Thor claps, careful not to damage the rose.

“Bravo,” he says. “That was extraordinary. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Really?”

I jump onto the hay, scooting in so close that our elbows brush.

“Truly. I did not know clowns could pull from such emotion…”

I punch his beefy leg.

“No. No, seriously,” he says, holding my gaze. “You’re remarkable, Sam. I was mesmerized.” He holds up the rose. “And thank you…”

We both blush, but I try to act casual.

“I thought I’d spice up my routine.” I shrug. “A magician friend of mine showed me that trick. Sorry it’s fake. A real flower would have been obliterated in my unitard halfway through my routine.”

“It still smells lovely,” he says softly. “Can I keep it?”

I nudge him gently. “It’s yours. Consider it a thank you for getting me through the cook-off.”

“I thought the VIP ticket was my thank you?”

“Oh, yeah.” I throw him a wink. “I guess you owe me, Thor.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “How about dinner?”

Right, dinner . I think he and I both know what our bodies are begging us to do. It’s not just the adrenaline—since the moment I saw him, I’ve wanted to know what it would feel like to have Thor’s beefy body tangled in mine...

“It’s ten thirty,” I laugh. “A little late for dinner.”

“It’s never too late to cook for someone.”

“Oh? You gonna help me acquire a taste for chili?”

“Maybe not chili…”

We allow each other stolen glances. I can’t help but try to x-ray vision his jeans to see what he’s packing…

“Fuck,” I sigh as everyone starts to funnel out of the staging area. “I can’t. We always reset and adjust after the first night. I’ll be here well after midnight rehearsing.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” I hop down. “In fact, you need to go.”

Thor jumps down, depressing the crash pad concealed by the black sheet. He lifts his foot and stomps it back down again, testing the soft floor. “Ah, that’s why you perform without a net.”

“We sneak it in between sets.” I get on my toes, place a hand on his shoulder, and whisper in his ear. “Don’t tell anyone.”

His hand finds my hip, taking it with more liberty than I imagined he would. “Under one condition.”

“Name your price.”

“Have breakfast with me tomorrow. My house.”

His fingers press into my unitard, searching for the bare skin underneath.

“I sleep in late, you know. I’m a performer.”

“Come when you can,” he says. “I don’t have to be at the cook-off until noon.”

My leg pops into the air, toes pointed. God, if we were alone, I’d kiss him right here and now… maybe more.

“I suppose I could steal the van,” I whisper. “For you.”

“Give me your phone number. Say it—I’ll memorize it.”

“Really?” I laugh.

Thor nods, pulling back and staring into my eyes. “Not a chance I’ll forget it.”

“Very smooth, but you’re showing your age.”

I slip my hand into his pocket and pull out his phone. He lets me take his hand and press his thumb to the screen to unlock it.

“There,” I say, handing it back. “I sent myself a text. Now get out of here before Charles loses it.”

“Don’t make me wait too long.”

I watch him leave, fighting against the gravity of all that delicious mass.

I'm up at dawn. I shouldn't be; Charles had us rehearsing and making adjustments until one in the morning, so I should sleep until noon. Besides, I’m not a morning person.

Today, I’m wide awake.

I text Thor the moment I open my eyes. He responds immediately and asks me when I'll be over for breakfast.

Even through my earplugs, I can hear the clowns snoring—one of them is so loud it shakes the trailer, and that’s no joke. Fucking clowns.

I text back, Is right now too early?

I thought you wanted to sleep in?

I did... You wouldn't believe how loud carnies snore.

I don't snore. Do you?

I bite my lip before replying, You'll have to wait and see...

A few bear snores rise and fall before he finally texts back, Come over. I'll start breakfast.

I practically somersault off my cot. Hilda groans and throws a pillow at me when I turn on the vanity light.

"Silence," she grumbles. "Need sleep. Muscle recovery."

I lotion up, get on some deodorant, untangle my hair, and throw on some workout shorts and a sweater.

"You girls get your sleep," I say on my way out. "Momma’s got a breakfast date."

Hilda gives me a halfhearted cheer as I shut the door.

Thor's home is a lot like him: big and beautiful.

The two-story ranch house rests atop a small hill overlooking fields of gold.

A single red truck is parked in the cobblestone driveway in front of the two-car garage.

It's hard to imagine that one person lives in a place this big.

It feels like his castle on the hill, a paradise.

Of course, I grew up in dingy apartments and have been living on the road for two years, so maybe it's not as big as it feels.

I park the van next to his truck. The sun is establishing its warmth for the day, but an insistent breeze chills me as I hop out.

The big garage doors are open, revealing a mess of metal, pipes, workout equipment, tools, two motorcycles (one half assembled), and what looks like a chemistry set on a worktable.

Now I understand how one person could need all this space. How many hobbies does this guy have? Is he brewing beer in there?

Thor is already waiting for me at the front door. A clean red apron hugs his body, and a white hand towel hangs off his shoulder. He smiles like the sunrise.

"Coffee?"

"Oh God," I sigh. "You know exactly how to talk to a girl in the morning."

Seeing him again makes me feel like I’m walking the tightrope. Butterflies flutter inside of me, urging me to take flight. I waltz right up to him and slide my arms around his shoulders. He pulls me into a deep hug, lifting my toes off the ground so that one of my sandals slips off.

"Hope I'm not underdressed," I say as he sets me down. "With all the crazy outfits I have to wear for work, I keep it comfy when I can."

"It's nice seeing you like this. Feels more... you."

"Thanks..."

Thor stares at me like I’m a gazelle that's wandered onto his property.

I clear my throat and bite my lip. "You gonna invite me in?"

Thor blinks, reanimating and stepping aside. "Of course. Please. Everything is ready."

All right, this is definitely the biggest house I've ever been in.

It's so open, so spacious, but absolutely filled with Thor .

The entryway is almost claustrophobic; there are so many pictures on the walls that they fight for space: Thor on construction sites with other men in bright hardhats; Thor accepting a trophy from the chili cook-off; Thor shirtless and absolutely stacked with shredded muscle, accepting another trophy for what must've been a bodybuilding competition.

Everywhere I look, I see his smiling face.

"I gotta ask," I say as he shuts the door. "What's with all the pictures? You trying to impress your visitors as soon as they walk in the door? Is that freaking Arnold Schwarzenegger standing next to you?"

“That’s him,” he says nonchalantly. "Are you impressed?"

"By you? No more than I already was..."

Thor laughs softly, gesturing to all the captured memories. "The pictures aren’t for visitors, they're for me. Any time I walk out the door, I remember where I've been, the people I've known, and all of my triumphs. It reminds me that I never have to fear the day."

It’s hard to imagine that this man has any fear in his heart. How could someone so imposing and pleasant be afraid of anything? He handled that dumbass cowboy like it was no big deal.

What is Thor afraid of?

“I like that,” I say, pointing to the body-building photo. “That certainly explains your physique.”

“I’m long retired from that world.”

“Retired from construction. Retired from bodybuilding. At the top of your chili cooking game. A brewery, gym, and auto-shop in your garage…” I raise my eyebrows. “Anything else?”

Thor grins. “Yes, breakfast—my favorite meal of the day. Come, let’s eat.”

“Oh, God. You’re a morning person.”

Thor leads me through the house, untying his apron to give me the perfect view of his bulging muscles in that tight t-shirt.

Maybe mornings aren’t so bad.