Love Fool

12 Scooby snacks

September

"Takk."

"Taak."

"No, no, baby. Takk, with two ks so the vowel sounds shorter."

"Takk?"

"Yeah, that's it, baby! You got it!"

"Takk, Sven. Now I know how to say 'thank you' in your language," I proclaimed, clapping my hands with delight and self-pride.

"I'm your man," the Norse god of sex replied, pulling me closer to him as we rested in bed, with nothing but the sheets to cover us.

"Babe, I have to get up now," I stated, as the delectable Sven ruffled his post-sex hair.

"Where are you going?" Sven's inquisitive aquamarine eyes glanced at me.

"I need to shower and put some clothes on. I promised Verity that I'd drive her to mum's place. I'll be back, before you know it, honey." I kissed his forehead before disappearing into the bathroom.

Sven Hansen moved into my apartment a few weeks after we started dating because he needed a more permanent place to stay.

It only made sense that he set up camp at my place-in my bedroom and not the living room-due to the fact that we were spending more time together.

When he offered to pay rent money, I gave him a discounted rate, as I knew he didn't earn much from a slim pay check and bar tips at the Koala Bar.

My cooking skills were pretty abysmal, and Sven enjoyed cooking, so we were a good match. I wasn't one to complain, coming home from work to find sweet and sour chicken and rice, or waking up to fresh coffee, bacon, and eggs on Sunday mornings.

That became our thing.

Plus, nothing beats seeing a pair of broad shoulders, a gorgeous smile, and a naked butt every morning. Not to mention the sex on tap from this hunky bartender.

I wasn't the only one to appreciate the changes in my home. Jane Newman, co-owner of a cleaning business, who I hired to clean my apartment and wash/iron my clothes on a weekly basis, also noticed the change.

"You've got eye candy living here," she quipped, taking a peek at Sven's hard abs and muscled body when I returned from dropping Verity at mum's place later that afternoon.

She stood on one side of the living room, ironing my silk work pants, while Sven sat on my brown leather Chesterfield sofa, trying to focus on his university assignment due on the coming Monday.

He wore a sleeveless white Calvin Klein tank shirt that I bought him a few days back, which accentuated his shoulder and arm muscles, and a pair of Rip Curl board shorts.

"He'll be here for a while. I'll pay you extra for his clothes," I offered.

"Darling, ever since he moved in, your place has been in pretty good shape. I can even see the floor when I come to clean your apartment these days, so there's no need to pay extra," she commented.

I nodded my head in agreement. Sven kept my apartment tidy, which Jane appreciated, as it made cleaning an easier job for her.

I, on the other hand, may as well have been Pig-Pen, a grubby character from the Charlie Brown cartoons who attracted a permanent cloud of dust.

"Plus, I don't mind seeing that piece of heaven on your sofa," she admitted, twitching her mouth to one side and sucking her cheeks, while raising her left eyebrow.

I nodded in concurrence again, leaning against the door frame with my arms crossed. Jane was old enough to be my mother, with three teenage boys to raise. She became a widow at a young age, but never let her sad story get in the way of her sunny personality.