Page 12 of You Can't Fight Lightning
“I’m from Seattle.”
“Oh, then this is like another planet.” Her frown relaxed, and for a moment, she was genuine in her amusement. Then the bartender within took over. “So a pitcher of water?”
“Yes, please.” This was no going well. I leaned against the bar, studying her as she moved around, getting out a pitcher and filling it. My groin tightened, and lust raged through me.
Gods, I wanted this woman.
Roxy brought over a pitcher that was already sweating and pushed it across the bar. As she did, I saw something on the inside of her right forearm.
“What is that?” I pointed to the small, diamond shaped tattoo. Anything to keep her here, keep her talking.
Even in the dark of the bar, I could see the color come into her cheeks.
It was charming. It was delectable. I wanted to drag her over the bar and take her away with me this instant.
“Oh, this?” She gave a laugh that indicated she wished I hadn’t mentioned it as two of her fingers brushed against the tattoo like the fluttering of butterfly wings.
Her reluctance made me even more curious. I nodded.
“This is the result of too much time in the library. My dad was a professor of Greek mythology, and after my mother passed away, he spent more time at work. That meant I got to go to the university library from the age of twelve on.” Her eyes came up, met mine.
They were full of remembered pain.
“And at twelve, you want to connect, talk to your dad, so what do you do? You study what he does. This is Olympus.” She stretched her arm across the bar further so that I could see the tattoo.
It was simple, done in black ink. A diamond shape, with the temple of Olympus at the top, and rays of light shooting out, out beyond the edge of the diamond shape. The temple sat on a hill, and there were a couple of clouds along the edge of the diamond below the temple.
It was simple and beautiful.
“Why did you choose this?”
“Well, after six years of trying to get my dad to talk to me and failing, and more time reading Greek legends than any normal human should, I got it to remind myself that even a god’s life isn’t perfect.”
She was right about that.
“And if I ever felt my life was awful, all I needed to do was read a story about the gods. They created more messes for themselves than you can imagine.”
“I can imagine.”
She laughed then, partially at me, I thought, and partially at her own memories. “Also because this design is really gorgeous, and even with all the nonsense about my dad, I love Greek mythology.”
If you wait long enough, the opening you seek comes to you. I tried not to grin. This would be easier than I thought.
“Who’s your favorite god?”
“Artemis.” Her reply was instant. “She seemed the most fair, although that was relative. She was all about women helping women before it was a thing. But the gods overall… they were all incredibly self-centered.”
True. Most were. “Well, Artemis is a goddess, right? What about the gods?” Her favorite had to be my daughter? The goddess of purity?
That didn’t bode well for my campaign.
Shit. I didn’t think it would be this hard.
“Of the gods? I don’t know, I don’t have a favorite.”
I decided I’d help her out. “What about Zeus? He was the king, the one who kept things going.”
Her nose actually wrinkled.Wrinkled. “No, he caused problems like anyone else. He seemed…” Her words trailed off.
