Eternally North (14 page)

That was easier than I
had expected. “So you went from zero to hero practically overnight?
Wow, that’s awesome. Surreal, but awesome.”

He moved his fingers
and looped them in mine. He cast his green eyes down and stared at
our entwined hands. “Yeah, you could say that. I have a unique
look. I’ll always be given certain roles, but I’m good with that.
I can act too, not many bigger, thug-looking-type guys can, so I'm
getting offered a lot of good parts, not just dumb, muscle roles.
The
Blade Reaper
franchise will take up the majority of my time over
the next few years. It’s going to be a trilogy."

"So no gratuitous
sex scenes or romance? Just knives, guns and violence?”

He shrugged. "The
idea of being cast in a rom-com gives me hives. I’m good with
action. Action, I can do. I'm not good with the flowery stuff. I'm no
leading man like Mr. Darcy. People find me too abrupt, too scary, and
I don’t think Colin Firth would have been as big a hit if he had
looked like a ‘roided-up wrestler, eh?” he quipped, glancing up
at me with a shy smile.

“Mmm, now
that
version of Mr. Darcy would have floated
my
boat, but, hey you,
don’t knock a rom-com.
Pretty Woman
is my most favourite
romantic movie ever. You shouldn’t be averse to love, mister,” I
scolded.

He squeezed my hand and
dropped the smile. “I’m not averse to love, not if it’s with
the right person.”

With all my inner
strength, not wanting to break the intensity of the moment, I held
his gaze, and was rewarded when he inched a touch closer. “I just
don’t want to put it on show for the masses. I hardly even do
kissing scenes, they repulse me. I fucking hate kissing a woman I
don’t want. I feel uncomfortable getting close to people,
emotionally, acting or not.” His tongue wet his bottom lip. “When
I’m in love, I want it to be complete heart-and-soul level, for all
of my life. I’m an all or nothing kind of guy.”

I’m sweating, and
I think heavy breathing. I reckon he needs to rethink the ‘I’m no
good at romance’ crap! Time for a subject change.

“So you never lived
in Hollywood?”

Tudor froze, his
fingers rigid in mine. He looked down at his feet. “I did for a
bit, but moved back to be near my family. It wasn’t for me, and
they needed me more.”

That was obviously a
sore point. The temperature in my room went from scorching hot to ice
cold. But, never one to shy away from a challenge, I pushed further.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Tudor, famous or otherwise? I'm not sure
being here in my bed is a good thing if you do.”

He relaxed and laced my
fingers once again through his. “No, I’m not good with
relationships, especially with the public side I have to deal with.
It’s fucking crazy.”

I blew out a breath I
didn’t know I had been holding as his stunning eyes penetrated
mine.

“What I mean to say
is that I haven’t been interested in anyone for a very long time…
until recently.”

I pulled away and sat
up slowly. Oh shit, I’d obviously totally misread this whole thing.
I couldn’t listen to him mention some Hollywood starlet he was
chasing.

I needed to remove
myself from this. “Can you walk me to the bathroom?” I asked
abruptly.

Tudor scratched the
back of his neck, frowning and rubbed his lips together. “For
sure.”

Tudor stood outside
while I sat on top of the padded toilet seat and breathed deeply. I
recounted my earlier conversation with Tink. He was right; this guy
was dangerous to me. He consumed my thoughts when he was near, I
became lost in him, everything about him, and I'd only just met him.
The touches he gave me were as natural as breathing and were
shattering my defences; they made me nervous. I needed to keep my
composure. I could fall for him. Hard. But it was so easy,
effortless, and I can’t help but like him. Could we be just
friends? Yes, friends. Nothing more. He probably saw me as that
anyway.

Tudor was leaning
against the wall when I opened the door. I took in the scene: he
looked like James Dean. Well, if James Dean had been hitting the
weights and protein shakes for a year, and inked himself up with an
ungodly amount of tats. His arms were crossed, showcasing his overly
defined chest; he was staring at his feet, and when he saw me he
smiled his gorgeous lopsided smile. He was pure bad-boy in a
six-foot-three package.

The combination of
gorgeous male and the latest dose of drugs caused me to waver on my
feet. Tudor approached me and, without saying anything, scooped me up
and carried me back to bed.

He placed me down
gently and rolled back the duvet, sliding in beside me. “Sleep now,
Tash. It’s okay, I’ll look after you,” he kissed my forehead
lightly and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, moving my upper body
to spread across his chest. His massive, broad chest.

I sleepily asked, “What
will you do now?”

“Don’t worry about
me. I’ll just watch a bit of TV. Just cuddle in and rest.”

“Mmm okay…” I
began to drift into sleep.

I could hear Tudor
flicking through the music channels as I floated away. He stopped
with a jerk, and I once again heard ‘Beneath Your Beautiful’ play
from the TV.

Tudor’s breathing
stilled and the remote dropped to my side. He let the song play out
and shifted to wrap his body around mine even closer. His lips ran
back and forth along my forehead, brushing against my skin.

He slid his hand under
my pillow and pulled it back almost immediately. After a few seconds
his breath hitched in and he let out a painful low groan. A wool
cover draped over my shoulders. It smelt of Tudor.

Fuck, he found his
scarf.

I couldn’t be sure,
as I was nearly unconscious and internally debating how to deal with
the scarf situation, but I thought I heard him whisper sadly.
“Natasha Munro, you have completely bewitched me. I would like–
no, I
know
I could be everything to you. But it’s
impossible.”

Morning came, bringing
with it the sun, bathing the room in yellow hues, and Tink, leaning
on one arm in my bed and regarding me with a suspicious gaze.

I groaned and
stretched, pleased that my head felt less fuzzy and that the whopping
lump at the back seemed to be shrinking.

“Morning, chuck,” I
greeted Tink sleepily.

He raised an eyebrow
and clicked his fingers about an inch from my face. “Natasha Munro,
you little slut!”

“What?”

It’s too early for
this shit.

He sat up, placing one
perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “What??? I come home to find
you coiled around a mammoth chunk of Canadian beef and you say
‘
what’???
”

Aww, bugger. Busted.

I quickly looked around
the room, but no Tudor was to be seen. I turned to Tink and opened my
mouth to relay the events of the previous night, when he held up a
hand, effectively silencing me.

“He’s not here, Ms.
Desperado. He left when I came back in the early hours of this
morning, reluctantly, might I add. I practically had to boot him out,
and believe me that would have been a David and Goliath-style
battle.”

He shook his head,
looking disappointed. “I shouldn’t have left, should I? When he
said he was going to look after you I didn’t expect him to take the
job quite so seriously. I didn’t expect him to weasel his way into
your suddenly slack knickers,” he pinged the waistband of my pants
to underline his point.

“Ow! I–" A
cocoa butter-lotioned hand muffled my explanation.

Oh, this bitch is
going down…

“You need to shut up
and listen to me, Wilbur!” Tink squealed, and finding my inner Zen,
I did what he asked, and gestured for him to continue.

“I walked in to check
on you, only to find you both under the duvet joined together like a
freakin’ jigsaw puzzle: you fast asleep and him wide awake nuzzling
your hair! What the fuck happened?”

I grimaced. “Nothing.
He looked after me and I fell asleep… end of,” I answered
truthfully, and pulled the quilt over my head.

Tink immediately pulled
it back down and rolled on top of me, pinning me down spread-eagle.
“End of nothing, you little hussy! I knew he’d try it on. You
were concussed, for frigg’s sake. You don’t see nurses climbing
in bed with their patients, do you, stroking their arms and kissing
their heads? Well, at least not until after the watershed. Why was he
wrapped round you like a pretzel? And don’t lie to me,” he
demanded.

My heart began to
pound.

What did happen?
Looking back we did touch a lot but in a very chaste way, and there
was all that cuddling, but nothing happened… did it? No…

“Tink, calm down.
Nothing happened, we talked, watched TV, he got me my pills and I
fell asleep. The next thing I know, you’re glaring daggers at me
and I’m being interrogated by the Flamboyant Friggin’
Inquisition!”

Tink leaned back
against my black faux-fur head frame, flicked his hair with his hand
and pursed his lips into a severe pout. “Well, fine. If you’re
gonna say nothing happened then I’ll have to believe you. But it
sure looked like something. I entered the bedroom, and when I reached
the side of the bed to try and pull you both apart, he didn’t even
look at me, he kept his focus solely on you and said, ‘I’m not
leaving, so don’t even ask’.

“It took Tate to
persuade him to get his fine ass out of the bedroom – I was having
a bitch-fit! He said he just needed to stay this one night, he only
had this one night, whatever the fuck that meant. And then he finally
left… in a right mood too. He slammed the friggin’ door so hard
it nearly fell off its hinges!”

“Tink, why didn’t
you let him stay if he wanted to? There was no harm in that.”

What did he mean by
‘he only had one night’? One night to do what?

“I made him leave as
I was back to take care of you, and ‘cos I thought you had given in
and boned him against my wishes. I was pissed off!”

“Well I didn’t, did
I? And now you’ve upset Tudor for no reason.”

“What do you care?
What’s he to you?” he quizzed, eyes boring into mine.

“A new
friend
,
one who kindly stayed with me to let you go on a date, and you
graciously kicked him out after doing so.”

Tink sighed and played
with his fingers, jutting out his bottom lip. “I was protecting
you. I thought he was taking advantage,” he whispered.

I moved my hand down my
body. “No advantage taken. Anyway, like I’ve said a million
times, he
DOES NOT
fancy me! He even mentioned some actress or
someone he was interested in, for fuck’s sake.”

I cringed, trying not
to feel the arrow through my heart at the reminder of that
revelation.

Tinks eyebrows
furrowed. “He did? Tater-Tot never mentioned any actress when I
asked.”

Pookie? Tater-Tot.
Oh, I think my best friend is about to be bitten by the love bug; he
only gives out pet-names when he really likes you.

“He’s private,
maybe Tate doesn’t know.” I argued.

He sighed again,
theatrically this time, and grabbed me in for a hug. “Sorry Wil, I
may have slightly overreacted. Are you okay?”

“Slightly? And yes,
I’m fine. I have always said nothing was going on.”

“Okay, I jumped to
conclusions, but you must admit it looked bad.”

“Call Tate and
apologise to Tudor. Yes?”

I could hear his teeth
grinding. “Fine,” he agreed reluctantly.

Stubborn as a mule!

After failing to stay
in my mood with my meddling best friend for more than thirty seconds,
my curiosity got the better of me. “So how was your date? Where’d
you go, what’d you do, what’d you see?”

Tink’s eyes lit up
and he got all mushy. He pulled the duvet back to slide under next to
me and held my hand in excitement,

“Wil, it was totes
amazeballs! He took me to the Calgary Tower and he had managed to
hire the whole flippin’ thing. It was so romantic,” he gushed,
releasing my hold and putting his clasped hands under his chin.

“We had a fabulous
dinner, drank fountains of champagne and then we went to the viewing
deck upstairs and, and… he kissed me. Ahh, it was a dream.” He
fluttered his long lashes.

I was elated seeing him
like that. “I’m glad, hun. So you like him?”

He laid back on the
pillow, staring at the ceiling. “I really like him, more than
anyone before. I know it's early doors but I think he could be a
definite keeper,” He seemed surprised at his own strength of
feeling. “Did you ever think I’d feel this way about anyone, ‘cos
I certainly didn’t? And so quickly too?”

I shook my head in
astonishment – my slapper of a bestie tamed... oh, there’s those
flying pigs!

“So what did you talk
about?” I grilled.

“I’m still shocked
that we did talk... we talked... actually talked about personal
things. Normally, it’s meet a guy and ‘wham bam thank you ma'am’
and we go our separate ways. With Tater-Tot, it is completely
different; I actually care what he has to say.”

“
So
, what did
you discuss specifically?”

“Everything – jobs,
our backgrounds, family. He has a great relationship with his mam,
dad and older brother, and is really close to Tudor’s mam. I told
him about my fucked-up home life and about you and your family
practically adopting me. Lots really.

“Did he talk about
Tudor?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Just
that he’s really private, and they move a lot for family reasons.
He didn’t say much else. I have a feeling he’s been given a
gagging order on the subject.”

“Mmm, probably.”

Tink shuffled his body
towards me. “So, what did you two talk about during the Tudor-Tash
jigsaw sesh?”