then?”
Finn gazed at her steadily over the bright blade. “It’s a deal.”
Chapter Two
Weight
Ella slid Finn a page torn from her notebook and waited.
Then waited some more. Finn looked up from what she’d scribbled, his face unreadable, and went back to his exercises. He was doing deep lunges to the sides and his bare chest glimmered, pale and perfectly muscled, his six-pack rippling with every movement.
Stop getting distracted.
Ella snatched back the paper and stared at it. Surely her handwriting wasn’t illegible? She’d never been good at calligraphy, but nobody had ever complained that it was so terrible.
It read: ‘Why the hell did you tell Sarah you’ll help her? Was it meant for Dave’s ears?’
Clear as day. Succinct and to the point. It even conveyed her opinion on the matter. Very diplomatically phrased, if she was to say so herself.
She thrust it back into Finn’s face, shook it. “Well?”
His expression didn’t change, though he slowed to a halt. “I can’t write,” he said.
“At all?” She gaped. “But you can read. And sign your name.”
He shook his head. His hair was caught in a ponytail and it swung behind him like the tail of a ghostly cat. “I can’t write well,” he clarified.
Oh, okay. “Spelling in English is a bitch,” she had to agree.
He pressed his lips together. Didn’t look happy.
“It’s no big deal,” Ella said. “I don’t care how you write it. We need to do this. We can’t stay in the shower all day.” The one place where they thought Dave might be unable to listen in.
Finn’s cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkled, a brilliant blue. He grinned. “No?”
“No, Finn.”
Oh god, the mere idea made her body tingle. But yeah, she hadn’t been able to find the bug on him and writing was the only way she could think of.
“Here.” She took up the pen and notepad and pressed herself to his side. He was warm and he smelled of clean sweat and musk. “Just write the why.”
He tensed. He reached for the pen and his fingers curled awkwardly around it, not bending all the way.
Ella frowned. “What’s wrong with those fingers?”
Finn dragged the pen on the paper, his jaw clenched.
“Were they broken at some point?”
He nodded, painstakingly scrawling letters. Why hadn’t she noticed before? He always held his knives and gun with such confidence she wouldn’t have guessed his forefinger and middle finger were so stiff.
She put her hand over his, steadying his movements. Dammit, this wasn’t working out. If she thought her handwriting was bad, Finn’s was like a psychedelic drawing. She leaned over it, trying to make out the few words.
Heed the crow? Feed the cow?
Damn. Maybe if she went cross-eyed she’d see it? Perhaps if she took magic mushrooms.
Need to know. Ah, right. About... the ninja. No. The sensei. Wasn’t that Japanese for ‘master’? Or was it ‘teacher’?
Finn didn’t speak Japanese. Well, neither did she.
“Stop.” She took the pen from his fingers and scrunched up the paper. “Technology, my friend, rules. Wait a second.”
She strode off to the bedroom and returned with her laptop. Briefly she wondered if Dave monitored her computer as well and she turned off the wireless internet just in case. She put it on the coffee table and dragged Finn to the couch.
“Now,” she said, sitting next to him. “Try again.”
Finn frowned at the open document on the screen. Looked like he didn’t have much experience with that. Ella demonstrated and his fingers dragged on the keys, typing a string of random letters.
“Gently,” Ella said. “One key at a time.”
Finn’s brow furrowed in concentration as he tried again. Ella leaned against him, inhaling his scent, reading the words as they appeared.
‘I need to know about the Aesir, the Vanir and the Weaver.’
The Aesir and Vanir were gods in the Nordic pantheon, but who the hell was the Weaver?
She tapped the word on the screen and
Finn gazed at her steadily over the bright blade. “It’s a deal.”
Chapter Two
Weight
Ella slid Finn a page torn from her notebook and waited.
Then waited some more. Finn looked up from what she’d scribbled, his face unreadable, and went back to his exercises. He was doing deep lunges to the sides and his bare chest glimmered, pale and perfectly muscled, his six-pack rippling with every movement.
Stop getting distracted.
Ella snatched back the paper and stared at it. Surely her handwriting wasn’t illegible? She’d never been good at calligraphy, but nobody had ever complained that it was so terrible.
It read: ‘Why the hell did you tell Sarah you’ll help her? Was it meant for Dave’s ears?’
Clear as day. Succinct and to the point. It even conveyed her opinion on the matter. Very diplomatically phrased, if she was to say so herself.
She thrust it back into Finn’s face, shook it. “Well?”
His expression didn’t change, though he slowed to a halt. “I can’t write,” he said.
“At all?” She gaped. “But you can read. And sign your name.”
He shook his head. His hair was caught in a ponytail and it swung behind him like the tail of a ghostly cat. “I can’t write well,” he clarified.
Oh, okay. “Spelling in English is a bitch,” she had to agree.
He pressed his lips together. Didn’t look happy.
“It’s no big deal,” Ella said. “I don’t care how you write it. We need to do this. We can’t stay in the shower all day.” The one place where they thought Dave might be unable to listen in.
Finn’s cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkled, a brilliant blue. He grinned. “No?”
“No, Finn.”
Oh god, the mere idea made her body tingle. But yeah, she hadn’t been able to find the bug on him and writing was the only way she could think of.
“Here.” She took up the pen and notepad and pressed herself to his side. He was warm and he smelled of clean sweat and musk. “Just write the why.”
He tensed. He reached for the pen and his fingers curled awkwardly around it, not bending all the way.
Ella frowned. “What’s wrong with those fingers?”
Finn dragged the pen on the paper, his jaw clenched.
“Were they broken at some point?”
He nodded, painstakingly scrawling letters. Why hadn’t she noticed before? He always held his knives and gun with such confidence she wouldn’t have guessed his forefinger and middle finger were so stiff.
She put her hand over his, steadying his movements. Dammit, this wasn’t working out. If she thought her handwriting was bad, Finn’s was like a psychedelic drawing. She leaned over it, trying to make out the few words.
Heed the crow? Feed the cow?
Damn. Maybe if she went cross-eyed she’d see it? Perhaps if she took magic mushrooms.
Need to know. Ah, right. About... the ninja. No. The sensei. Wasn’t that Japanese for ‘master’? Or was it ‘teacher’?
Finn didn’t speak Japanese. Well, neither did she.
“Stop.” She took the pen from his fingers and scrunched up the paper. “Technology, my friend, rules. Wait a second.”
She strode off to the bedroom and returned with her laptop. Briefly she wondered if Dave monitored her computer as well and she turned off the wireless internet just in case. She put it on the coffee table and dragged Finn to the couch.
“Now,” she said, sitting next to him. “Try again.”
Finn frowned at the open document on the screen. Looked like he didn’t have much experience with that. Ella demonstrated and his fingers dragged on the keys, typing a string of random letters.
“Gently,” Ella said. “One key at a time.”
Finn’s brow furrowed in concentration as he tried again. Ella leaned against him, inhaling his scent, reading the words as they appeared.
‘I need to know about the Aesir, the Vanir and the Weaver.’
The Aesir and Vanir were gods in the Nordic pantheon, but who the hell was the Weaver?
She tapped the word on the screen and
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