Chapter 126
Layla's POV
"Need help?" I asked Ruby, grateful for the distraction as she wrestled with an oversized wicker basket.
"Grab that cooler," she panted, nodding toward the blue container. "My back's killing me."
Before I could move, Thor stepped around me, his chest briefly pressing against my shoulder as he reached for the cooler. The contact sent an unwelcome jolt through my system.
"I've got it," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
My skin prickled. "Show-off," I muttered, but my voice came out breathier than intended.
Thor's lips curved into a knowing smirk. He'd noticed.
I grabbed the blankets with more force than necessary, stalking toward the lakeside clearing where Hunter was already directing one of Thor's pack chefs at a portable grill. The scent of charcoal and herbs made my stomach clench—I'd been too wound up to eat properly all day.
"Alpha," Hunter nodded as Thor approached, then immediately moved to take the cooler. "You shouldn't be—"
"Hunter." Thor's voice carried a warning edge as he set the cooler down with deliberate force. "I'm capable of carrying my own shit."
I knelt on the grass, shaking out the first blanket. Thor dropped down beside me without invitation, grabbing the opposite corners. Our fingers brushed as we spread the fabric, and I jerked my hands away like I'd been burned.
"This isn't protocol," Hunter protested, his forehead creased with concern. "I should handle—"
"Protocol?" Thor's laugh was sharp. "We're at a fucking picnic, Hunter. "
"Your mood swings are giving me whiplash," Thor continued, addressing Hunter but watching me from the corner of his eye. "First you're cracking jokes, now you're the etiquette police. Pick a personality."
Ruby intervened, placing a calming hand on Hunter's rigid arm. "He's trying to help Layla relax, not stress about pack rules."
Hunter's shoulders sagged, and I caught the way his eyes lingered on Ruby's touch. Interesting.
"You two need couples therapy," I said, smoothing the blanket with sharp movements. "And Hunter, stop looking at Ruby like she hung the moon. It's obvious."
Hunter's face went crimson. "I don't—"
"Oh please," Ruby laughed, but her cheeks pinked. "At least he's not brooding and making dramatic declarations about carrying coolers."
"I don't brood," Thor protested.
"You literally just stared into the distance for thirty seconds before moving that cooler," I pointed out. "That's textbook brooding."
"That's called thinking," Thor shot back. "You should try it sometime."
"Ouch." But I was grinning now, the familiar banter settling something tight in my chest.
The chef—Rafe, I remembered—served us generous portions of perfectly grilled meat and vegetables. The steak was incredible, perfectly seasoned and tender, but I could barely taste it with Thor sitting so close. Every time he reached for something, his thigh brushed mine, sending little electric shocks through my nervous system. Worse, he seemed to be doing it deliberately, reaching across me when he could have easily asked me to pass things.
"Time for dessert," Thor announced, producing a container with obvious pride. He lifted the lid, revealing the apple pie we'd made together. Steam rose from the perfectly golden crust, carrying the scent of cinnamon and vanilla.
"Our masterpiece," he said with a surprising touch of vulnerability in his voice.
"Jesus, Thor," I breathed, taking a bite of the warm pie. The flavors were complex, layered—there was something almost seductive about how we'd balanced the spices. "Did you put bourbon in this?"
His eyes darkened with satisfaction. "You can taste that? Most people miss it."
"I have a sensitive palate," I said, then immediately regretted the words when his gaze focused on my mouth with laser intensity.
"I'm learning that about you," he murmured, voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my pulse stutter. "Very... sensitive."
Ruby made a gagging noise. "Get a room. Seriously."
"We're outside," Thor said without looking away from me. "Technically this is the room."
"That's not how rooms work," Hunter said dryly. "And someone should probably tell you that watching you two is like watching a nature documentary. Fascinating and mildly disturbing."
"I could make this apple pie for you every day," Thor continued, ignoring them completely. "Every night. However often you want it." His voice dropped even lower. "I could learn exactly how you like everything."
The sexual undertone was unmistakable. The way he said 'everything' made it clear we weren't just talking about pie. My fork paused halfway to my mouth as heat crawled up my neck.
"You're not subtle," I managed.
"Subtle is overrated," he replied, still watching me with that predatory focus. "I prefer direct communication."
"Direct communication," Ruby repeated. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
"At least they're not screaming at each other anymore," Hunter added. "Though I'm not sure this eye-fucking is an improvement."
"Hunter!" Ruby gasped, but she was laughing.
"What? That's literally what they're doing. Look at them."
I buried my face in my hands. "I hate all of you."
"No, you don't," Thor said confidently. "You hate that we're right."
"I hate that you're impossible," I corrected, looking up at him through my fingers. "And infuriating. And—"
"Irresistible?" he suggested with a cocky grin.
"Insufferable."
"Same thing."
Ruby made exaggerated kissing noises. "Just make out already. Put us all out of our misery."
"This pie is incredible," I admitted, trying to change the subject. The perfect blend of tart apples and sweet filling made my taste buds sing. It was more than just delicious—it was a physical reminder of our connection, of the few hours we'd spent in his kitchen with flour on our faces and laughter in the air. "Best I've ever had."
Thor's expression shifted, a flash of genuine pleasure replacing his usual cockiness. "High praise from someone with such a sensitive palate."
Rafe appeared, helping to serve the remaining pie slices. "Would anyone like some coffee with their dessert?" he offered, giving me a moment to collect myself.
I focused intensely on the dessert, letting the rich flavors ground me. But I could feel Thor watching every spoonful I took, and my body responded to his attention despite my best efforts.
Thor suddenly stood, stretching in a way that seemed calculated to show off every muscle. His shirt rode up, revealing that tantalizing strip of golden skin and the trail of dark hair that disappeared into his jeans.
"I'm going swimming," he announced, like this was a perfectly normal October evening activity.
"The water's got to be freezing," Hunter said, looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "I'll watch you turn into a popsicle from here, thanks."
"Cold doesn't bother me," Thor shrugged. Then, maintaining eye contact with me, he grabbed the hem of his shirt. "I run hot."
He pulled the shirt over his head with deliberate slowness.
I choked on my dessert.
His torso was ridiculous—all defined muscle and golden skin, a masterpiece of masculine perfection. The firelight played across the ridges of his abs, highlighting every cut line. A thin trail of dark hair disappeared into his jeans, and I found myself staring at the sharp V-lines of his hips like I'd never seen a man's body before.
"What a show-off bastard," I muttered, but my voice came out husky with undeniable attraction.
"Is it showing off if you're genuinely impressed?" he asked, fingers moving to his belt buckle.
My mouth went completely dry. "What are you—you're not—"
"Relax, goddess. I'm keeping the important bits covered." But his eyes held a wicked promise as he unbuttoned his jeans. "Unless you'd prefer otherwise."
"Thor," I warned, but it came out more like a whimper.
He paused in pulling down his zipper, tilting his head with mock innocence. "Something wrong?"
"You know exactly what you're doing," I accused.