Page 74 of Truly, Madly Viking

He waved a hand dismissively. "You told me that Dock-whore Seabold's woman-friend was a trader in antiquities. I called her shop, and she came over to make me an offer yestereve when you took the girls to choir practice. She wanted my sword, but I could not sell her that. A warrior's weapon is his boon companion."

A headache the size of his boon companion hit Maggie like... like his sledgehammer.

"Besides, in my world, jewelry is treated the same as coin. Why else would I be wearing arm rings? Do you think I am so vain I adorn myself when going into battle, or on a seafaring voyage to rescue my brother?"

Maggie didn't know what to think. "You shouldn't have sold the arm ring, Joe. It was a prized possession."

"Pfff! A mere object! 'Tis not as if I sold a limb, or anything so dire."

"How much did she give you? Are you sure you got a fair price?"

"Seventy-five thousand dollars."

"S-seventy-five thousand dollars!" she said in a squeal.

"Yea, and you are not to worry. Methinks Martie is an honest woman. Sometimes 'tis necessary to trust, don't you think?" His words obviously had a double meaning. "Are you not surprised?" he inquired then, proud of himself as he waved a hand in a wide sweep to encompass the horrendous hole in her house.

The man is clueless.

Then he plastered a slow grin on his face for good measure... the one he knew made her insides turn to mush.

Well, maybe not so clueless.

"Surprised doesn't begin to describe how I feel."

She put a hand to her forehead and counted to ten. "Do you even know how to build a fireplace, Joe?"

"Of course." He then ducked his head sheepishly. "Well, actually, I have ne'er built one afore, but how hard could it be? Besides, Steve said he helped his brother-by-marriage construct one twenty years ago."

"Twenty years ago!"

"And the man at the Home Station—"

"Home Depot," Steve corrected.

"The man at the Home Deep-oh," Joe amended, "gave us detailed diagrams."

"I used to be a construction foreman," Fred added, puffing his chest out importantly.

"You were?" they all exclaimed as one.

His face turned bright red, even his balding head under the hard hat.

"Well, why did you not say so afore?" Joe exhaled with disgust, and handed his sledgehammer to Fred, who almost dropped the heavy object, apparently not prepared for its excessive weight.

So, by Sunday night, Maggie McBride and her two daughters had a stone fireplace in their den. And, though she hated to admit it to Joe, it was really pretty nice.

Even though Christmas was still two weeks off, stockings had already been hung with care... four of them. Suzy and Beth had insisted that Maggie go down to the craft store and have one made with Joe's name on it, identical to the three they had already. Of course, there was a paw shaped stocking for Rita, too.

She was still going to kill Joe the minute she caught him alone. He had been avoiding her like the plague.

Smart man. But now she'd cornered him. He was alone in the den, basking in the glow of the fire and his newfound family.

"Uh-oh," he said when he saw her. He pretended to cringe with fright. "Despite the warmth of my surroundings, I can feel the very coolness emanating from you, Mag-he."

"You've been avoiding me all day," she accused. To her surprise, he nodded. "I am not a Viking for naught. I know when to stay out of a woman's path. Only a fool could fail to see the murderous gleam in your eyes. You would like naught more than to put a blood ring 'round my neck."

"I couldn't have said it better myself. The fire place was a nice gesture, Joe, but you are never, ever to do anything like that again without my permission."