Page 55 of Viking Unchained

He was better prepared when he came upon a jewelry mart, where he handed the merchant two hundred-dollar parchments for a hunk of amber that had caught his eye in the window. It would serve no purpose, this polished stone the size of a fist, except that the specks of dirt in the center resembled a star, and for some reason he’d thought of Lydia. A gift, he supposed, which was new for him. Oh, Vikings loved gift-giving, but he could not recall ever giving Luta a gift. Mayhap that had been his problem . . . or one of them.

In another trader’s stall, he purchased a Minnesota Vikings shert, which he thought might generate a smile from Lydia. He wore it now as he continued his walk and shook his head at his fancifulness in caring whether the wench was pleased at his appearance or not.

Just then, he noticed a place with a red-and-white striped pole in front. Inside, men were sitting in chairs, having their hair trimmed. Hesitating for only a second, he went in and waited his turn. His hair seemed to mark him as different in this country, especially this military base. If he was resolved to find his place here, cutting it off would be a first step. Besides, he was not a vain man. It was only hair.

“What’ll it be, buddy?” the barber asked once he was in the chair.

Thorfinn glanced over to the next chair. “Like him,” he ordered.

“A high and tight,” the barber concluded.

A woman walked up to him and said, “Hi! My name is Sally Enders. Would you like a manicure and pedicure while you’re having your hair cut?”

He must have looked unsure, because she quickly added, “Never had your nails done before?”

Slowly, he shook his head.

"C’mon, give it a try. Half price.”

And so he underwent the amazing process of having his fingernails and toenails clipped, sanded, and buffed, with the cuticles “cleaned up,” ending with wonderful hand and foot massages. It had actually been a nice experience, though he could not imagine his hands or feet staying this clean after doing a warrior’s work. Nor could he imagine ever telling his fellow Vikings that he had pampered himself so.

While she worked on him, Sally talked. And talked. And talked. He soon learned without ever asking—only an occasional grunt was required—that she was betrothed to a seaman who was deployed to the Arab lands. Devon, her fiancé, was great. He made love like nobody’s business. In fact, she told him in a whisper, “He gives good oral sex.”

Frowning, he asked, which was probably a mistake, “Is that like a blow job?”

She laughed and punched him playfully in the arm. “You kidder! No, a woman gives a blow job.”

“Oh,” was all he said, recalling his phone conversation with Torolf and realizing yet another of the mistakes he had made.

She also told him about her two-year-old daughter from a previous marriage, her interfering mother-by-marriage, the high cost of gasoline for her German bug, a sale at Victoria’s Secret, some stud named George Clooney, and how important it was to floss. When Thorfinn exited the shop, his head buzzing from all of Sally’s blather including a tearful good-bye over his giving her a hundred-dollar bill in thanks, he held two beaded war braids in his palm. The air felt surprisingly good on the back of his neck, and his body felt lighter. The barber, who had listened to Sally’s chatter without remark, except for rolling his eyes occasionally, had clipped his hair very short on the sides and left an inch or so on top, which he told Thorfinn to care for with the gel he sold him.

He liked his new haircut.

He wondered idly what Lydia would think.

Chapter 11

She saw dead people . . .

Lydia thought she was losing her mind.

Finn was gone, and she was in as much pain as she had been the first time she’d lost Dave. Which was insanity because Finn wasn’t Dave. She knew he wasn’t. So why was she running around like a chicken with its head cut off?

When she’d finished with her classes, she consulted with her manager over instructors to replace her for the rest of the day. In fact, she planned to take off the rest of the week. She had plenty of backup help, so a minivacation was no big deal to arrange.

When she went out to the lobby, she found Finn gone. That didn’t surprise her. But then she’d gone outside to see if he’d walked down to the water or around the neighborhood. No one had seen him. And the first inkling of alarm set in.

Two hours had passed since the end of her classes. She stood in the parking lot leaning against her car.

He was gone, she just knew he was. As quickly and amazingly as he had entered her life, Finn had disappeared. The grief staggered her with pain.

But then, through the haze of her tears, she saw something.

Ambling toward her as if he had all the time in the world was . . . Dave.

“Oh, my God!” she moaned, two hands pressed against her heart. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Her words were as much prayers of thanks as exclamations of shock.

His long legs were encased in jeans. He wore a Minnesota Vikings T-shirt. And his dark hair was cut in its usual high and tight. A small smile tugged at his lips as he got closer, causing the dimple to emerge.