Page 12 of Elf Shot

It's not hunting. It's just meetings, remember?

After talking to Charlotte, Layla had decided that she would hear Arne out and then act professional for the rest of the trip.

By nature, she was probably the most forgiving of all of the Ironwoods. She wasn't like Imogen and Charlotte who nursed grudges to a level of a petty that took real commitment. Sure, she was pissed Arne had crashed her date, and he could apologize for that too so they could move forward.

The problem was, Layla was terrible at asking what she wanted, and her tongue struggled to work properly around Arne on a good day.

Just make him say sorry and let it go. If he does it while not wearing a shirt, maybe it will help with the healing process. Gah, shut up brain! Layla argued with herself, her leg starting to bounce again.

They pulled up in front of a hanger, and Layla recognized the tall and brawny blonde Viking waiting for them.

"Tor! I didn't know you were here!" she said excitedly. She pulled him into a hug, and he squeezed her tightly.

"Little Layla, I'm glad to see a smile on your face. Arne told me you were angry at us," Torsten said, his deep voice a grumble in the very ripped chest she was pressed against.

Layla was almost as interested in the Ulfheðnar as she was the elves. Ever since Arawan had announced that Odin was still alive and walking the earth, Layla had wondered if his wolf-shifting warriors knew where the All-Father was. She may have done some digging herself because she was just like that when she got obsessed with something.

"Nah, I'm not angry at you, Tor. You didn't crash my first date in ages," Layla replied.

"He did what now?" Tor pulled back from her, and she wasn't ashamed to say she admired the Norse tattoos on his ridiculously big biceps.

"Leave that part out, did he? He turned up with like fifty warriors, and my date left. And then Arne just stood there and watched me eat like a weirdo. You would think a prince would have more manners," Layla huffed.

Tor's gray eyes twinkled. "Yeah, you would think. You should have answered your emails if you didn't want him being dramatic. Elves are real drama queens when they want to be."

"Apologies should be done in person not over an email." Layla crossed her arms.

"I agree. He doesn't think straight when he's stressed out," Tor said and picked up her suitcase. He gestured for her to head up the stairs into their private plane.

"What's he so stressed…about…" Layla's brain stopped working when the elf in question appeared in the doorway of the plane. He was out of his warrior gear and was dressed casually in dark jeans and a cream knit jumper that was tight enough to show off just how fit he was.

Odin's beard. Layla's boot hit the edge of the stair, and she was falling. Strong arms caught her before she face planted.

"Are you okay?" Arne asked, helping her upright. Layla scrambled to get out of his grip and would have gone backward if Tor's hand hadn't steadied her.

"Yeah, fine. Just feet. I mean, I'm not quite awake. Ah, thanks," Layla blabbed, her face burning. Just feet? What the hell is wrong with you?

"If you can make it into the plane, there's coffee." Arne smiled down at her. "I don't know if I'm relieved or disappointed you didn't make me come and fetch you."

Layla's mouth popped open. "Ah, what…"

"Maybe you could flirt when we are all on the plane?" Tor suggested from behind her.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Ironwood." Arne stepped back inside and let Layla through the door.

She shouldn't have been surprised that the private plane was fancy as fuck. She pretended not to be impressed and sat down in one of the plush blue leather chairs and dumped her bag on the floor at her feet.

Tor stowed her suitcase and bow case in an overhead locker and instantly went to the bar to pour coffee. Arne was still staring at her. He had his black hair out of its tie, and it brushed the cream of his sweater. It was obscene how good he looked.

Rude. Layla had a weakness for hot men in knitwear. She couldn't stay mad at anyone who looked that good.

"Here you are, Layla. You have it black with one sugar, right?" Tor said, setting the coffee down at the small table beside her.

"I do! Good memory." Layla had a sip and hummed in pleasure. "You're my big Viking hero." She looked Arne over. "You, I'm still mad at."

"Big surprise."

"I am a professional, so I will choose to be civil if you can be," she added and blew on her coffee.

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