Loving Ivy

Chapter One

She was trouble! He'd noticed that the moment she walked into the bar. Hot as hell, but smelling of the sweetest trouble he could get into.

She didn't look his way, eyeballing the pool hustlers, the frat boys, the security.

Only when she'd scoped the place, staring longer at exits, noting where the bathrooms were and the queues outside, the phones stuck to the wall down a side passage, did her glance settle on him.

Shit, Dwalin thought. The lady wasn't just trouble. She was in trouble.

He knew that look on her face. She needed to get out, break the monotony, relax. But, that instinct of her's was playing louder than the crappy jukebox.

When he met her eyes, he didn't move, didn't react. He let her assess him, while he returned the favour. She was tall in her heels, easily hitting six feet, a toned body, like she worked at it, but not angular, there were no straight lines only tantalising curves. Likely ate right, probably didn't drink all that much, so this was an anomaly for her.

Like he thought, breaking the monotony.

She glanced towards the bar, moving steadily, but keeping out the way. She didn't meet anyone else's eyes. Just sat at the bar in her tight jeans, spiked-heel boots and her overlarge T-shirt slipping off one curvy shoulder. She had that healthy tan, so she liked the outside. Probably got it jogging, or doing yoga in the park.

A hand went to her long hair, gifted with a slight curl and the bar lights teased out her red flecks amongst the brown. She placed her order, a bottle of bud.

One hand ran down the bottle, wiping away the droplets, she wiped it on a napkin, took a swig and glanced back around the bar.

She was trying to relax, but those instincts of her's were pounding. Dwalin grabbed his beer, took a swallow, grabbed his leather jacket and made his way over.

He was a sucker for a damsel, especially one that was trying hard to hide her distress. In doing that, she'd piqued his curiosity, and damn if he wasn't gonna find out what the lady was running from.

He slid onto the stool next to her, she stiffened. He knew right now she was glancing sideways, checking him out. Though not in the way he'd like her to.

Her body unfroze, she'd figured he wasn't a threat, but she didn't hold her bottle like she was gonna drink it, more like she was readying it to smash in his face.

"If you're gonna hit me, aim for the nose."

Her head turned, flinging that long hair over her far shoulder, eyes scrutinising him, running over him as she tried to figure him out.

He slid his glass to the bartender, pointing at the beer on tap.

"Go for the nose, you may not break it, but my eyes'll tear up, and I won't be able to see all that well."

She cocked her head, "Are you serious?"

He gave her that ol' devil's grin of his, pure Texas gold his Mamma called it.

She picked at the label on her bottle, flicking her eyes down, checking him out. He raised one brow in interest. Well, maybe this night wouldn't be a waste after all.

"Why?"

It was his turn to cock his head, "Not sure what you're asking?"

"Why would you tell me that," she was shouting a little over the music. Those dark eyes of her narrowed by the heavy frown. That wasn't a good look for her.

He could hear Thorin's voice inside his head, warning him to steer clear, and maybe he should heed his best friend's advice. He hadn't made many good choices with women.

This one, though. Yeah, she was in a biker bar, not the best one around here either, but this wasn't her local.

There were a couple of biker bunnies near the pool table, dressed in leather jeans and tank tops, their faces ravaged by too much time spent riding pillion, the wind blitzing their faces. They had personalities more suited to piranhas, and could likely outdrink every person in the bar.

The lady beside him, she had a toughness to her. It was a different kind of tough, though. Like, if he were careful, if he handled her right, she'd let him in.

Sipping his beer, slapping his lips at the crisp taste, he turned bodily towards her, keeping relaxed, no sudden movements that'd earn him a beer bottle to the face.

"You looked like you could use the advice." He shrugged at her incredulous look.

"Right, because you're what, the patron saint of single ladies in a bar?"

"You know, I don't hand out free advice often. I get paid a lot of money for advice like that."

Her fingers stopped clenching the bottle, and he succeeded in making that frown go away.

"What do you do?"

He smirked, "It's funny you should ask."

She had a cute smile, the brackets around her lips and the crinkles around her eyes said she laughed a lot.

She'd said her name was Ivy, "As in poison ivy."

He registered the small bite of sarcasm. Oh, she liked saying that to people, but somewhere inside it had become a mantra.

"Ivy," he'd grinned, raised his glass, "There ain't nothing poisonous about you."

It earned him his first real smile, they clinked bottle and glass together and swigged down the remains.

He wanted to push, get her life story because the more he looked, the more he liked.

They'd slid closer together, purely so they could hear each other over the drumming beat.

She was interested finding out what he did for a living. He could admit that he got off on telling women he was a bounty hunter.

She'd looked at his brown-grey hair, pulled back in its leather thong, his receding hairline, his goatee surrounding his lips.

"I suppose you do have a 'Dog' thing about you."

He'd be a richer man if he charged a dollar every damn time someone mentioned that bounty hunter.

"The Stones tee and battered jeans are a better look, though." She'd not hid her eyes roving over him.

He wasn't fashion victim of the year; he wore what was comfortable, running around in leather wasn't fun, caused friction down below as well. Yeah, that wasn't one of his happier memories, ice bags on rubbed-sore jambags.

The beat faded and the usual hum of a packed bar crowded in. The bartender grabbed some coins from the tip jar and headed over to the jukebox; he slipped the coins in and pressed buttons. It was likely the guy knew every song on there. He made his selection came back and pointed at their empties.

"One for me," Dwalin spoke, tipping his head at Ivy, "Whatever the lady wants as well."

"Your weakest beer, please."

This woman was so far out of her depth here, and he badly wanted to discover what had chased her out this night.

The barman nodded, went to get their drinks, and a soft rift began playing, he loved this song and couldn't help singing along with it.

A gypsy wind is blowing warm tonight,

The sky is starlit and the time is right,

And still, you're telling me you have to go,

Before you leave, there's something you should know.

"Yeah, something you should know, Babe." The smile lit her face, her eyes crinkling, cheeks plumping, she was gorgeous.

He grabbed her hand, didn't give her time to react as he pulled her up and away from the stools, curling his arms around her as he danced and sang with this beautiful woman.

I've seen you smiling in the summer sun,

I've seen your long hair flying when you run.

He dragged a lock through his fingers, bringing the very ends to his nose, inhaling sunshine and apple, and her womanly scent.

I've made my mind up that it's meant to be.

He stepped back twirling her around, her hair dancing, spinning on her toes, before winding her back into him. Her back pressed against his chest, as he swayed their bodies together.

Someday lady you'll accomp'ny me.

He dipped his head, nose tracing her pert little ear, whispering the lyrics and feeling his breath cause all sorts of holy hell to her body.

Someday lady you'll accomp'ny me,

Out where the river meets the sounding sea,

You're high above me now. You're wild and free, but,

Someday lady you'll accomp'ny me.

He couldn't resist placing a kiss on her exposed shoulder, tasting clean skin, a hint of her citrus moisturiser picked up on his tongue.

His lips dragged up, meeting her cheek as she pressed her face into him. Her breath puffing out, eyes closed, losing herself, losing that fear she wore.

His hand on her belly, fingers splayed, thumb pressing under her breast, following the curve, no straight lines or angles on this curving, sultry lady.

He found her ear, sucked the lobe, trailed his tongue over the shell of it. "What are my chances, Darling, of you accomp'ny'n me tonight."

A little shake of her head, "I..I can't."

"You can," he kissed her temple, shifting her hair back with his nose, filling his lungs with her clean scent, slightest hint of fresh sweat as he heated her slowly.

"I'm not…I'm not like that."

"Oh, Ivy, you are."

Her spine was beginning to stiffen, edging her body away from him. Standing straight, her height no match for his six/six frame.

"I'm not a—"

"No, you ain't, Darling. You're a hot-blooded woman, who needs this. This ain't me using you, Darling." His other hand slipped down mapping the rounded curvature of her hip, across her lower belly, down the opposite thigh, going as far as he could reach, back up to the button of her jeans, sliding a finger between denim and warm skin.

"This is you, using me, Darling. And I want you so very badly to use me."

He could feel in her body she was torn, "Come on, Darling."

A firm shake of her head, "I can't risk it, I'm sorry."

His hands hung on, pulling her back into him, keeping it gentle, letting her know she could break free if she wanted to.

"This ain't a risk, Darling. It's the surest bet you'll ever take."

She unwound his arms, and in a sleek move, he twirled her around, her mouth open in surprise and a little impressed with his smooth movements.

Dwalin pushed forward, keeping her walking backwards the little click of her heels ending as he pushed her against a wooden column.

He made sure to keep space, his height, muscular broadness were intimidating at the best of times.

"How about this," he made sure she was focused on him as he dropped his arms. "I take you to my hotel, it's five star Babe, we'll make love," she frowned at that, " then tomorrow, after I've brought you breakfast, you can tell me what's going on."

Her face closed up, those lips thinning, hazel eyes flecked with amber icing over. He placed one finger on her bottom lip.

"And when you tell me, I'll help you sort it. And after that, you can decide what this," he flicked a finger between them, "means."