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Despite everything, Greer remained a believer. During her time planning crazily expensive weddings in Denver, she’d also seen true love triumph over adversity and stress and the multitude of distractions that drowned other couples. They were usually the ones who remembered that a wedding lasted for a day, but it was the marriage that counted forever.
There also didn’t seem to be a timeline for that heart-deep understanding. She’d gotten good at telling which pairings were rushing into a marriage that would fall apart at the first hurdle, but she’d also seen the ones who just seemed to click. Some couples had been together for years, growing closer as they grew older, but her favorites were the stories of love at first sight. The ones who just knew, whether their eyes met across a crowded room or a conference table, or even a coffee shop counter. In an instant, they found the person who fit their puzzle piece, and her only job was doing a little set decoration. Their love took care of the rest.
When she’d looked into the face of the man who currently had his hands on her hips, she’d felt a flicker of something new. His touch warmed and soothed her. He’d shielded and protected her while she was vulnerable, and now he supported her while she found her footing.
She wrestled with the temptation to nestle further into those rough, strong palms, but forced herself to hold still. The believer in Greer wanted to dive into that singular blue gaze, but she’d learned the hard way that her heart could take a leap of faith that left it bruised and hurting when her openness wasn’t returned.
Clearing her throat once more, she asked, “Why are your hands still there?”
“Can’t think of anywhere else they’d rather be,” he rumbled, but removed his touch and stepped back.
She would not sigh at the loss, she told herself firmly, but it was difficult. When she turned, she discovered that he hadn’t moved very far, and she had to tilt her head back to see his face. A rush of blood touched her cheeks and she knew she was nearly the same color as her outfit.
“Pink suits you,” he said in that deep voice that resonated in all her lady parts. He raised one of the hands that had so recently been molded to her hip and cupped her jaw. His large palm blanketed one side of her throat in soothing warmth while his thumb traced the indent under her bottom lip gently.
Instinct made her tongue slip out to lick at his touch and his fingers clenched ever so lightly in response, tilting her chin up and pressing down on her lip until her mouth opened.
“Lick me again, sparkles.”
Disobeying his command didn’t even cross her mind and she repeated the action. Rough salt scraped against her taste buds as she lapped at his skin, curling her tongue around him without hesitation.
Then she bit him. Just a nip on the end of his thumb, certainly not enough to hurt this hard-skinned, hard-eyed Viking, but it did wonders for reminding her that she was no thrall.
“Holy fuck.” His blue eye widened and his whispered curse made her shiver with delight.
“Hi holy fuck,” she said, wedging a hand into the narrow space between them. “I’m Greer Holloway.”
CHAPTER3
Magnus barked out a rough laugh, startling both of them, but this time she joined in instead of nearly dying.
The tip of his thumb tingled where she’d nipped him and he wanted to feel those little bites all over his body. Her front two teeth on the bottom overlapped slightly and he wanted that imperfect imprint branded on him so he could flaunt it to the world.
This woman has claimed me. Everyone else, fuck off.
For now, he took half a step back and settled for shaking her hand. “Magnus Lundgren, Marine and now part owner of a fancy pub. What brings you to The Grange, Miss Holloway?”
He didn’t miss her slight exhale - he was certain he’d be preternaturally focused on her breathing for the rest of his life - or the faint tremble of her lips. “I’m an event and wedding planner, and the venue I’d booked for a party tonight canceled on me this morning so I’m a bit desperate. I’ve been watching the construction and your door was open, so I thought I’d see if you had space.”
She looked around and he wondered how much she truly saw.
The Grange technically wouldn’t open for another week and there were still some kinks to work out here and there. The old building had originally served as a meeting hall for local farmers and ranchers to discuss the business of agriculture back in the late 1800s when the town had been established. Over the last hundred and fifty years, it had gone through a number of changes, serving as a quarantine hospital when the Spanish Flu swept through Colorado, then a rationing office during World War Two, before a final attempt at being a hotel again failed in the 1980s.
Magnus had grown up in Hedby and remembered watching the old building decay while he was occupied with other things. His family had farmed here since the town was founded, but there had never been a moment of his existence where he wanted to join the family business.
Instead, he went to college, joined the Marine Corps as an officer, and when they decided they had no further use for a one-eyed Raider, he came back home, uncertain of what he’d do with the rest of his life if he wasn’t serving.
One day he’d been grabbing a coffee at the Busy Bean downtown and the faded for-sale sign caught the breeze, moving at the edge of what sight he still had. He’d wandered over and peered through the cracks of the boarded up windows, where an old-fashioned brass beer tap gleamed dully behind the long bar.
Back in the day, he and his team had experimented with brewing their own beer a few times. They’d only blown up three small kegs, which he considered a damn good ratio for Marines, and they’d done a little what-iffing during the long nights out on patrol. What if they bought a bar together when they got back home? Better yet, what if they started their own microbrewery?
They had the skills, after all. Magnus was an experienced leader who could source grains straight from his family farm just outside of town, Ford had an actual degree in Chemistry, Ethan could run logistics the same way he’d planned ops for their unit, Kyle would kick ass at bartending, and Riley could turn his hand to damn near anything else they’d need.
Things had gone to shit soon after that night, but the sight of the bar brought back those memories and started the ball rolling. Magnus easily slid back into the role of taking care of his men and pushing towards their new objective - a gathering place where folks could have a good beer and a good time in comfortable surroundings. And if he and his men could find a space for themselves to heal and remember what it was like to be alive, all the better.
The day that changed them, Magnus and Riley had been the ones to drag Ford and Ethan’s burned and battered bodies out of the line of fire while Doc did his best to keep them breathing. Half of Ford’s pelvis had shattered under a bullet and his recovery was slow and agonizing. The nerdy genius now had a gleam of wild bitterness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, but he was dealing with his new situation and rolling forward.
Ethan was also from Hedby, and his time at the VA hospital had lasted the longest. He had his own reasons for not wanting to come back home, but fuck that noise. He was wallowing, but they weren’t letting him go until he pulled his head out of his ass, no matter how long it took. They’d wait until his second in command remembered to quit whining and embrace the suck.
