Page 17 of Joker in the Pack

“We could share,” Maddie hissed in my ear.

“The room or the man?” I whispered as Sven turned and headed along the hallway. “You’ve got a boyfriend.”

“I know, but… Oh my gosh! Would you look at that?”

Look at it? I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Sven’s butt cheeks could have cracked walnuts. Edward had gone to the gym regularly, but Sven… Sven should have been a spokesmodel for StairMaster.

“So, Olivia, this is the room that’s up for rent.”

Up until then, I’d never found a Scandinavian accent sexy, but he could have spoken Klingon and made my heart skip.

“The carpet’s new,” he continued. “And with the double glazing, you can barely hear the road.”

A bed. That was pretty much all I noticed, at least about the room. Believe me, I noticed plenty about the man standing in it. His twinkling blue eyes, his chiselled jaw, the way his blond hair fell over his tanned forehead.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I’m interested.”

“Shall I show you the rest of the place?”

“Yes, please.”

In reality, I only wanted to see one other room: his. I know I’d sworn off men, but when I made that decision, I hadn’t envisaged Sven and his buns of sculpted marble. Perhaps I’d been a little hasty.

“This is the bathroom. Shared, but I promise not to leave my toenail clippings in the sink.”

The sink? Who clipped their toenails in the sink? Maybe it was a Nordic thing? Ah well, at least he bothered with good foot hygiene. I lagged behind again to enjoy the view, smiling as he led us into… What was this? A jungle?

“Uh, you sure have a lot of plants.”

“They’re for my babies. I like them to feel right at home.”

His babies?

Movement caught my eye as a snake slowly descended from the branch next to me, its beady yellow eyes locking on mine as I stood frozen to the spot.

“What the…”

“Opheodrys aestivus, the rough green snake. She’s called Belinda.”

Sven stepped forward and Belinda wound her way up his arm, pausing halfway to poke her tongue out at me. Next to me, Maddie let out a whimper, and I followed her gaze.

“I-i-is that a tarantula?” I asked.

The spider was sitting on the back of an armchair, and as I watched, it lifted one leg as if it were waving hello.

“Yes—Margot’s a Mexican red-knee. She’s very friendly.”

“But aren’t tarantulas deadly?”

“A myth. Margot’s bite is no worse than a wasp sting. No, it’s the black widows you need to watch out for, but I keep those in a tank.”

I heard a muffledthumpas Maddie fell to the floor beside me. She never had been too keen on spiders.

“Maddie, wake up!” I crouched beside her and fanned her face as she blinked a few times.

“What’s wrong with her?” Sven asked.

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