Page 10 of Savage Hearts
The stud shakes my hand with such serious intent, it’s as if we’re two world leaders on a critical UN diplomatic meeting to save humanity.
He’s got dark blond hair, gorgeous hazel eyes, a spiderweb tattoo on the side of his neck, and a jawline so glorious it could make angels weep.
He bears a striking resemblance to the Marvel comic book character Thor, Norse god of thunder.
“Hullo, Riley. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Okay, the world is totally an unfair place, because not only is Thor an ovulation-inducing stud, he’s got a hot-as-fuck Irish accent to boot.
I bet Sloane’s marrying the O’Donnell guy for the money, but banging this Thor dude on the side.
I hate to admit it, but it’s a good plan.
“Nice to meet you, too. What’s your name?”
“Spider.”
I make a face. “Spider? No. Your mother didn’t name you that. What’s your real name?”
There’s a beat of silence where it looks like he’s trying not to smile. “Homer.”
“Really? That’s cool! I’ve never met anyone named after an ancient Greek poet.”
He lowers his head and examines my expression with such intensity, I’m taken aback.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Your sister said exactly the same thing to me about my name when we met. Verbatim.”
“Oh. Huh. Weird.”
“Aye.”
Oh my god, people from Ireland actually say “aye.” That’s so hot. Stop looking at his crotch.
“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you called me Spider, though. Most of the lads don’t know my real name.”
My ears prick at the mention of “lads.”
If there are more Spiders wherever we’re headed, I’m extending this vacation indefinitely.
“Sure. You can count on me not to spill the beans. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
I grin at him. He gives me an indecipherable look, then turns to take my bag from a worker carrying it over from the plane.
Spider throws the bag into the back of the SUV, opens the rear door for me, and waits for me to climb in. Then he slams the door shut behind me and slides behind the wheel.
We peel out with such force, I’m thrown back against the seat.
“Are we in a car chase I don’t know about?”
“No. Why?”
The SUV careens around a corner, tires squealing. Now I’m thrown sideways, nearly banging my head on the window.
