Valhalla Cupcakes (7 page)

“No tickling,” she finally managed to shout, kicking ineffectually at him. “You’re not allowed to tickle.”

He stopped immediately, and held out his hand to help her up, her helmet barely hanging on by its strap. His was still on perfectly and she would have laughed again except that Seda stood in the middle of the shop, her mouth gaping open at their antics.

“What in the hell?” Seda asked. “Who in the hell?” She shook her head back and forth, clearly not believing what she saw.

“Oh, crap, I forgot to call you,” Audrey said, straightening her clothes. She motioned to Erik. “You remember him, right?”

“I remember a painting of him,” she shrieked, walking to Erik and putting her hand on his arm. She quickly snatched it back and jumped away. “He’s really real.”

He nodded patiently. “My name is Erik Agnarsson,” he said. “Audrey freed me from my prison.”

“This is because I haven’t had coffee yet, isn’t it?” Seda asked.

Audrey ran and poured her a cup of coffee, motioning for Erik to stop when he went to ring up the purchase, but smiling at his diligence.

“There is so much I need to tell you,” she said, handing over the coffee.

In a jumble of words, and with Erik filling in the bits she forgot, she managed to get out everything in only a few minutes, dragging her friend over to look at the broken frame and torn canvas as if she needed more proof than the brawny blond mountain that stood before her.

She stared at him for a long time, holding her undrunk coffee, then shook herself. “Smile, handsome,” she said, taking out her phone and snapping a picture of him. She looked at Audrey knowingly. “I already told everyone I know about your artistry with baked goods, but the world needs to know about him as well.”

“Seda, you can’t!” She tried to grab the phone away from her, thinking all she needed was for her to spout the madness of her cursed Viking all over social media. “People will think you’re crazy. Or I am. Either way you can’t share this with anyone.”

“Oh, I’m not sharing his origins,” she said, snapping another picture. “I’m sharing how hot he is.” She nodded apologetically to Erik. “Sorry to objectify you and all, but I mean, you actually were an object up until yesterday.”

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged, but Audrey could see he felt uncomfortable and packed up a few cakes for Seda, shooing her out the door with the promise to call later.

“She’s the one who bought the painting for me,” she tried to explain. “She hasn’t had time to see that you’re actually a person yet. She’s normally not so brash.” She patted Erik’s arm, feeling bad. Hadn’t she acted much the same as Seda? Treating him like a sexy toy and ordering him around for her own gain? “You don’t have to wear the hat if you really don’t want to,” she finally said.

He furrowed up his brow, swiveling his head down to study her. He reached up and rested his hand on the helmet, then slowly lowered it.

“It’s part of the uniform,” he said briskly. “Since I don’t have a shirt, I’ll wear it.”

She felt the strangest sensation as she watched him take up his post behind the counter. Something both warm and befuddling. Something she couldn’t figure out at all, just as she couldn’t figure him out. Was he a fierce warrior Viking or a sweet, helpful man? She couldn’t reconcile with herself that he might be both, it was too dangerous to her emotions.

No emotions, Audrey, she told herself, as if she could command herself as easily as she commanded Erik.

A few elderly ladies came in asking for mini cakes for their book club, and she watched in awe as he bowed an old-fashioned greeting. He correctly rang up the order, gave them their change, and had them giggling like schoolgirls from his charm as they made their way out, promising to return if the book club liked the cupcakes.

For the first couple of hours, there was a steady trickle of customers, a few placing large enough orders to send Audrey back to the kitchen to start fresh batches so they wouldn’t run out for what she hoped would be a rush after the lunch hour.

After nervously keeping an eye on Erik, she saw that he was completely capable of running the front without her help. Shockingly, no one seemed the least bit afraid of him, and when she came out to check shortly before noon, the place was packed with customers, ninety-nine percent of them women.

A gaggle of girls in the uniform of the high school down the street clustered around a table close to the counter, snapping surreptitious pictures of him and repeatedly going up for more cupcakes whenever they ran out. There was an audible groan when one of the girls realized their lunch break was almost over, and they dragged themselves from the shop.

A few forward college age girls in short skirts kept making raunchy jokes to try and get him to laugh, and two tables full of moms with toddlers stared greedily and unabashedly at his pecs. Audrey was astounded, and a little offended on Erik’s behalf, wanting to run in front of him with her arms thrown out, hollering that he was hers and for them to back off, bitches.

Then she caught a glimpse of the nearly empty display and the bursting cash register and excitedly returned to the kitchen to whip up more batter.

Between them, they managed to keep up with the flow of customers, Erik seeming to be a natural behind the counter, never getting outwardly frazzled no matter how long the line. She put it down to him being in higher pressure situations in his old life, raiding the coastlines and such. Except for a nerve wracking few minutes while she hastily frosted a batch of vanilla hazelnut, they didn’t run out, and she kept up with demand.

At six o’clock, she turned off the sign and locked the door, elatedly sinking into one of the chairs. Erik moved behind her and squeezed her shoulders, expertly kneading away the kinks from the long day.

“Oh my God, that feels good,” she sighed, letting her head drop forward.

He removed her helmet and tossed it onto the table, working her hair out of its pins and sweeping it gently over her shoulder before continuing his massage.

“I’ll do it as long as you want me to,” he said, his voice and touch sending the now achingly familiar thrill of desire down her body.

“You are definitely allowed to do that,” she murmured. “Your hands are like national treasures.”

He chuckled. “This was a good day?” he asked, sliding his thumbs along her spine.

“It was better than I ever could have hoped,” she said.

Even in her wildest imaginings, she couldn’t have dreamed up a better first day. As tired as she was, she couldn’t wait for it all to start again tomorrow. His masterful touch lulled her into a doze for a few minutes, before she was riddled with guilt and jerked awake. He’d worked every bit as hard as she did, and even though she hadn’t ordered or even asked for the massage, it seemed he would continue until she told him to stop.

“Sit down, Erik,” she said. He dutifully sat across from her, smiling when she stretched and yawned deeply. “I’m so tired,” she admitted.

“Then go on up,” he said. “You earned an early night.”

She shook her head. “I still have to get us some dinner, and prep the kitchen for the morning, clean up out here, not to mention count the money.” She frowned, the accounting the least enjoyable part of it, but she had to think about buying fresh ingredients, paying the bills, and finding a way to put some aside for the thugs. The frown melted into a hopeful smile, thinking if business continued the way it had today, there might just be a chance to pay them off and be rid of them after all.

“Don’t worry about my dinner,” he said, pulling a wad of papers from his pocket. He spread them out on the table and she saw they were scrawled with names and numbers. “All these women told me to call them if I wanted to grab a bite.” He wrinkled his nose at her thoughtfully. “Do you think they actually meant to offer me a meal, though, or was that some sort of euphemism?” he asked, running his tongue along his top lip before grinning at her.

She swept up the pile of papers and crumpled them into a ball, alarmed at how many there were. She felt a sick stab of jealousy, followed by the hurt of knowing he was only here with her because she was a part of his curse.

“Probably a bit of both,” she said bitterly. “But you can’t grab a bite with any of them, not until my problems are sorted, anyway.”

She hated the sound of her voice, petty and resentful, and wanted to personally ban every woman who flirted with him from the shop. But then she’d have no customers. With a sigh, she pushed away the unfamiliar and unwanted feelings.

She irrationally wished he’d say something like he’d rather eat dinner with her anyway, or even gotten dirty with some euphemisms, but he only sat there, looking exhausted. She perked up, realizing he hadn’t made a fuss when she crumpled his hook-up numbers. That was something.

“Do you like pizza?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“I’m going to order one. I think you’ll like it. I’ll get a meat lover’s one.”

He smiled angelically. “It’s as if you were made for me, Audrey.”

She reached over and plucked off his helmet, and he looked surprised to still be wearing it. “I’ll order you a shirt tonight,” she said. “Thanks for today, you did great. The customers love you.”

He tried to suppress a smile but she could tell he was pleased, then his look turned less angelic and her heart pounded.

“You admitted this was a good day. You said something about giving kissing back, earlier?”

“Did I? I don’t remember,” she hurriedly said, running for the cash register. She’d never get done if she let him kiss her, and even though her lips tingled to feel his against them again, she forced herself to stay rational. “I better count the money before we order the food. Can you just put all the dirty bowls in the sink and maybe rinse them?”

She was too tired to remember to phrase it as a command, and mustered the energy to risk his good mood, because as much as she hated ruining a nice moment by bossing him around, she couldn’t face the kitchen on her own. To her surprise, he only nodded and disappeared into the back, where she soon heard the comforting clatter of dishes being washed.

The amount of receipts was astounding, and the numbers for the day boggled her mind, restoring her vigor when she reached a grand total. She ran into the kitchen waving handfuls of cash and grinning maniacally, stopping dead to see the kitchen was sparkling. All the spoons and batter bowls were scrubbed and drying on the rack, the mixer taken apart and gleaming, its pieces propped up on a towel to dry. He was assiduously scrubbing the counter and stopped when he heard her screech to a halt at the sight. He smiled as proudly as a boy who’d caught a frog and her shameless heart melted a little.

You stop that, she told it. No melting. Of course her heart didn’t take orders like the Viking did, and she stood there warring with herself.

“It’s all done,” she said.

“I haven’t done the floor yet,” he said. “I’m just about to get to it, though.”

She threw her arms around him, then jumped back waving the cash. “Today was crazy. If we can keep this up, I might just be able to put off the loan sharks a little longer. I mean, if they see how well we’re doing, they have to give me more time, right?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” he said, then nodded at the cash. “What are you going to do with all that?”

She smirked, embarrassed at her childish display. “Nothing,” she admitted. “I just wanted to wave it around.”

He plucked the bills from her hand. “Turn around,” he instructed. “No, keep turning.”

She was in such a good mood, she didn’t argue with him and turned in circles like a ballerina, laughing delightedly when he showered the money down on her from his great height.

“Oh my gosh, you made it rain,” she said. “You don’t even know what that means, but you made it happen.”

“You made it happen,” he said, bending down to restack the money he’d strewn everywhere. “Your hard work and talent.”

She dropped down to help him, blushing furiously at the compliment. Their heads bumped together and she tumbled back onto her behind, holding her forehead. He took her hand away and rubbed the spot for her, looking amused. He ran his knuckles down the side of her face, his expression turned oddly tender.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his hand resting gently against her throat, not strictly stroking.

God, she wanted to give him back stroking. She wanted to give it all back to him, but she needed to keep her wits about her, at least until she had a solid chance to repay her uncle’s debt, not have her business taken from her, or worse, her thumbs.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Better than fine. Help me up so I can order the pizza, then we can run to the store for tomorrow’s ingredients.”

She made a mental list of what she wanted to make. The mocha wasn’t as popular as she thought it would be, taking the longest to sell out, and no one seemed to miss it when she didn’t make more. She’d try the banana strawberry, wishing anyone besides the mobsters had come for her free sample day to give her feedback. They’d seemed to like them well enough, and she had the strawberries Erik mangled that morning that needed to get used.

“You’re letting me go out with you?” he asked.

“Yes. Give me a minute to think of all the possible trouble you can cause so I can come up with restrictions for you.”