Sweet Hearts (The Lindstroms Book 3)

by Katy Paige

  “Everything okay?”

  He stood up, staring out at the lake. “Can’t see Wild Horse from here. We’re too far north.”

  Katrin looked at her watch, standing up beside him. “We only have about fifteen minutes until our reservation. Um. Erik. You’ll be polite to José?”

  “Sure. He’s your boss.”

  “He’s nice. Really.”

  “Hey, speaking of José, did I notice something between him and, um, Gabrielle?”

  Katrin raised her eyebrows and smiled like a little imp, which made his heart beat a little faster, made his face flush a little with the pleasure of being near her. “I’ve been trying to figure that out.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think there’s a story there, but they’re as hard to read as poker players, never showing their cards.”

  Erik offered her his arm, and she took it as they strolled the paths leisurely, headed back to the lodge.

  “No backstory?”

  “Nothing that they’ve cared to share. And I keep meaning to ask Ingrid but I keep forgetting. She should have overlapped Gabrielle’s tour by a year or so. Here’s what I know: they served at the same hospital as Ingrid, they were there together for a few years, and maybe in different wards. But, something happened. Or didn’t happen that should’ve happened.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “It’s the way he looks at her.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Like there’s unfinished business.”

  “Huh. What about her? Gabrielle?” Erik asked, thinking that all relationships were tricky. Unpredictable, unreliable, full of backstories and unfinished business.

  “She’s harder for me to read. But, yeah, I think there’s something there. Even though I can’t read it perfectly. There’s something.”

  She looked up at him and smiled, squeezing his arm as they climbed the steps up to the lobby where there was a sitting area with a huge flagstone fireplace. “There’s that romantic again, looking for the love story.”

  “Nah, just a cop solving a mystery.”

  “I know there’s a romantic in there, Erik.”

  He bristled against her words. He wasn’t a romantic. If he were, he would be able to tell Katrin how he felt about her and embrace the opportunity to be with her. He wouldn’t feel confused and trapped, elated, excited, and terrified all at once. He wouldn’t think of her all the time, yet desperately want to keep things casual. If he were a romantic, he would tell her how much she meant to him, ask her to be his girlfriend, hold her hand in front of their families, allow himself to think about the future. If he were a romantic, he would dream about loving her, living with her, marrying her, having children with his eyes and her dimples. If he were a romantic, he would claim her and hold onto her as tightly as she would let him, and never, ever let her go.

  But, he wasn’t. He was rational. He was logical. And he knew that laying out his heart meant it could get trampled. Taking a risk opened the door for pain. There was nothing wrong with companionship, but he didn’t want to be in a relationship. He didn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend.

  And frankly, she shouldn’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend either! Hadn’t she learned anything from Wade Doyle? Hadn’t he learned anything from hearing his mother’s desperate, unrequited cries for his father? Love doesn’t work out. Someone always gets hurt. And the only sure way to avoid that hurt was to avoid love.

  Opening the door for her, he dropped his arm, letting her hand go.

  I know there’s a romantic in there, Erik.

  “You’re wrong, Kat. There isn’t.”

  As she passed him, she smiled at him in that annoying way girls do when they think they know you better than you know yourself. He heard her singsong voice trail behind her as she passed him. “If you say so, Minste. If you say so.”

  ***

  “So, Erik,” José was asking, trying to engage him yet again. “How’s it going up there in Kalispell?”

  “Just fine, Joe. Or José? What do you prefer?” Erik’s tone was just the slightest bit mocking.

  “Whatever works for you, Erik.”

  “Kalispell’s just fine, José.”

  “You have a place to yourself? An apartment?”

  Erik turned to Gabrielle, smiling at her warmly. “I do. It’s not much, but I’m making do. My landlord’s a character.”

  Katrin turned to him with a bright smile, placing her hand on his. “We have to tell them about Terry!”

  We. Again. He glanced at her hand for a moment, realizing it was the third or fourth time she had done that. It was the sort of gesture a girlfriend would make, and it was making him uncomfortable. He picked up his drink with the hand she was touching, leaving hers alone on the table.

  Turning to Gabrielle, he said: “Terry’s hopelessly stuck in 1976. He wears these polyester shirts with long, pointy collars, and these flat-front, tight polyester pants. He says things like ‘jive cat’ and ‘stone cold fox.’ There’s always disco music coming out of his apartment. Stuff like ‘Dancing Queen’ and ‘Macho Man.’”

  Gabrielle grinned. “He let you borrow his clothes?”

  “I tried, Gabrielle, I tried. But, Terry’s pretty particular about who he loans things out to.”

  Gabrielle chuckled as José turned to Katrin. “You met Terry yet?”

  “No.” She smiled at Erik. “I haven’t seen Erik’s place yet. We have to do that.”

  We again. What is that? The hundredth time tonight? “Yeah. You’ll have to come up sometime.”

  “So, tell me again how you two know each other? It’s a family connection, right?” José gestured back and forth between them, taking a sip of his wine.

  Katrin nodded. “Erik’s sister, Jenny, is married to my cousin, Sam.”

  Thanks for answering for me, Kat. “Jenny’s my youngest—um, sibling. We have two older brothers.”

  “So, you must know each other pretty well.”

  Erik shook his head. “No, not really.”

  Katrin turned from José and smiled at Erik like he was making a funny joke, touching his hand again. “We met once at my cousin’s wedding and once at Ingrid’s. But, those were busy days. We’ve gotten to know each other better in the last few weeks.”

  We. We. We. He looked at her hand touching his and used it to pick up his scotch and take a long sip. Her eyes lingered on the tumbler, then glanced at him with worry. Of course. Her ex is an alcoholic. The drinking’s bothering her. He pushed the glass away and gave her a thin smile, which she returned. He could see the relief in her eyes.

  “That’s weddings! Busy times,” said Gabrielle. “Katrin told me ‘bout your adventure to Wild Horse last weekend. You two seen the falls yet?”

  Erik started to answer he had not, but Katrin answered for him. Or rather, for them. “We haven’t. We should go!”

  An awful feeling was taking over inside of him. Since when were he and Katrin an established “we”? Since when did she take his hand at the table in front of people, like she was his girlfriend? Since when did she make plans for them as a couple? For that matter, when did they become an official couple in the first place?

  He liked her very much, yes. But, he liked her in their own safe little bubble where it was just her and him figuring things out. Where he didn’t have to be on display with the words “My Boyfriend” blinking in neon on his forehead. Where the pressure of being a couple, being in a relationship, didn’t exist.

  All of his worries about Midsommardagen were closing in on him, making him feel irritated and uncomfortable. He had started today hoping they could act like friends in front of their families, but with Katrin us-ing and we-ing all over the place in front of her friends; taking his hand at the table, and speaking for them as a unit, it didn’t seem very likely. It seemed like she wanted to go home for Midsommardagen as boyfriend and girlfriend, and with two families in the mix, that was simply not something that Erik was prepared to do.

  He didn�
�t know how, but he had to sort this out with her, sooner rather than later.

  Before Midsommardagen.

  ***

  Katrin couldn’t put her finger on what was going on but comparing the rides to and from the restaurant was inevitable. Something was different between her and Erik as they drove south along Flathead Lake back to Skidoo Bay, and she didn’t like it, but she didn’t know what to do about it. Maybe he was just in a bad mood, or maybe something more was going on, but unless he talked to her, she couldn’t figure it out or help him fix it.

  It wasn’t just the drive home, either. His mood had soured, bit by bit, as the evening wore on. Everything had started out so promising with the way he looked at her when he picked her up. But, ever since he had admitted that he liked her in the car, he’d withdrawn from her little by little. Dropped her hand as they sat on the lawn, bristled when she called him a romantic. He was quiet and moody at dinner, answering questions with as little effort as possible, becoming more closed and cool as the minutes ticked by.

  Maybe he felt left out of their clinic threesome? Or maybe he still felt some ridiculous rivalry with José? Maybe she had said or done something to engineer such a change, but she didn’t know what: surely that teasing comment before dinner about being a romantic wasn’t enough to bring on such a dark mood. She didn’t know what was up with him, but she didn’t like it. She wished he’d just tell her what was going on, but as they drove on in silence, the tension in the car ratcheted up to almost unbearable levels, she finally decided she’d had enough.

  “Erik,” she said, trying to keep her voice level and calm, “what’s going on with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t get what’s going on. Tonight started out really nice, and now you’re so quiet and moody, you’re—”

  “I’m not moody.”

  Yeah, not at all. “Erik, come on. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Really.” He sighed, but he didn’t look at her, didn’t move to touch her or reassure her. Finally, he said, “Midsommardagen’s the weekend after next.”

  “Is it? Wow. Time’s flying.”

  “Are you planning to go home for it?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, really. I mean, I don’t know. You want to go?”

  “Yeah. I’m going down. My family’s going to be there.”

  “Mine too,” she answered. “Big gathering this year. My aunt and uncle—you know, Sam’s folks—are flying in from Chicago. I love it that Jenny and Sam invited everyone this year. Lindstroms, Kelleys and Svensons. It’ll be our first Midsommardagen all together.”

  “Everyone’s staying at the Triple Peak,” he said in a clipped voice. “Together.”

  The Triple Peak Lodge was an inn outside of Choteau that had been in Katrin’s family for years before it was sold to a hospitality group about ten years ago with the provision that they would still host annual Midsommardagen festivities into perpetuity.

  “Of course,” she said, false cheer trying to best her wariness. “Best Midsummer party in Montana! If you’ve never been to the Triple Peak celebration, you’ve been missing out.”

  Erik paused before changing course. “Are you worried? About Wade?”

  Wade wouldn’t show up. He was in rehab. Besides, he wasn’t Scandinavian. He’d only attended Midsommardagen with her once, years ago, and proclaimed it “the gayest weekend” of his life.

  “Not really. Triple Peak’s not even in Choteau. Not to mention, he’ll still be in rehab.”

  Erik clenched his jaw once and his eyes narrowed.

  What was going on with him? Was he worried about her? Worried Wade would try something?

  “Yeah, but maybe you shouldn’t go,” he said without looking at her. “Remember, I told you I didn’t like the sloppy security at those places.”

  She smiled, feeling relieved. Is that what his bad mood was all about? He was worried about her? Her heart swelled with the force of her feelings for him.

  “Oh, Erik. Don’t worry. I’ll be safe. He’s not Scandinavian, and he never even liked it the one time he went. Plus, my brother will be there and Sam and you. Even if Wade wasn’t in rehab, even if he wanted to see me, I don’t think he’d risk it when I was surrounded by family. Don’t worry. I’m safe.”

  She brushed his arm with her hand closest to him, but her eyebrows furrowed when he flinched. He did flinch, didn’t he? It was so slight, so subtle.

  “Yeah, but…probably isn’t worth it to take the chance. I don’t think you should go, Kat.”

  “Erik! What are you talking about? He’s in rehab, he’s not going to…”

  She was confused. Wade wasn’t an issue.

  Wait a second. Could it be…? Her brain was scrambling, putting pieces together. Maybe he wasn’t worried about her. Could it be that Erik didn’t want her there?

  Her voice was small when she spoke again. “Erik, do you not want me to go to Midsommardagen?”

  “I don’t care what you do, Kat. I mean, you can go if you want…”

  “Wow, that’s a ringing endorsement.” Her chest started to feel uncomfortable, and her fingers and cheeks started tingling, like when she was a child and had done something bad, or when she realized something was wrong.

  He glanced at her quickly then turned his eyes back to the road, jaw clenched again, his face hard and closed. “Well, let’s be honest, Kat. It might be easier if you didn’t go.”

  “Easier? What do you mean? For whom?”

  “Well, I just—if you’re there, and I’m there…I mean, I just don’t know what to tell them.”

  “Tell them about what?” She stared at his profile as it finally dawned on her what he was saying. He didn’t know what to tell them about him and Katrin. This whole thing—all of it—was about him feeling uncomfortable with them as a couple. She took a deep breath, then let it go slowly. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God, I’m such an idiot. I thought you were worried about my safety. You’re not worried about me. You’re worried about us. You don’t know what to tell them about us.”

  At her use of the word “us” his eyes narrowed again. “Throwing those words around a lot tonight, Kat. We this. Us that. I mean, there isn’t really an us, is there?”

  She winced. It hurt her to hear him say that, and a massive lump that had started in her throat tripled in size. That crazy tingling feeling on her skin, all over her body, was getting stronger and she started feeling light-headed.

  He continued. “I mean. I don’t know. Us? That implies we’re, you know, dating. A couple. In a relationship or something. And we’re not. Maybe we’re moving too fast for you. Maybe we should take things slower—not get so attached—”

  “So attached?” Her words burst out louder than she intended. “Erik, I’m sorry, but am I missing something here? You asked me out on our first date the day we met.”

  “Technically, that was just Sunday dinner.”

  “And Wild Horse?”

  “That was just a day trip.”

  “Calling me Ӓlskling? Teasing? Texting? Kissing? Even tonight, on the car ride to the restaurant. Do you remember what you said to me? You said, ‘I like you too much.’ That was, like, three hours ago. Erik, come on! Stop acting like there’s nothing between us.”

  He was making her angry, furious, even. And fury felt so much better than rejection.

  “I’m not saying there’s nothing between us. There is something, I guess. I mean, I’m just not ready to name it.”

  “This is about putting a label on our relationship?”

  He cringed at the word relationship, his tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously.

  “They’re going to notice, Kat! Jenny and Ingrid. And your brother, and my brothers, and your mom and my dad. The way you say we and us, and touch my hand, and…. They’re all going to notice and it’s going to get sticky. It’s going to be a thing that they’re all watching and talking about, and if it doesn’t work out, it’s going to be messy because they’re going to feel l
ike they have a stake in it. Yes, I’m uncomfortable. No, I don’t like it. They’re going to see how attached you are to me, and—”

  “How attached I am to you?”

  “Well, yeah, you’re attached to me, and I’m—”

  “You’re what? What about you, Erik?” she exploded. “This can’t possibly be about you too, right? No. That would be impossible. You don’t get attached! You don’t commit! So this is only about me!” Her face was hot as a bonfire and she seethed inside as he painted a picture of some annoying hanger-on having a runaway crush on an unwilling suitor.

  “Come on, Kat. Calm down. I just think…”

  “You just think I’m some pathetic, jilted girl who attached herself to you because my sister-in-law is your old friend and she forced you into keeping an eye on me.”

  “No. I didn’t say that. Come on. We’ve been having some fun. But, now that you mention it, you have been hurt recently. You’re vulnerable, and maybe I seem like a good choice—”

  “A good choice? Are you crazy? You’re the biggest risk I ever took! You pursued me, Erik. You kept asking me out. Having some fun? Wow!” The lump in her throat was out of control and angry, burning tears gathered in the back of her eyes like acid. “Do you even hear yourself? Too attached?”

  “Kat, calm down—”

  “You shut up! You are a jackass, Erik Lindstrom. A total and complete jackass, and I don’t know what I’m doing with you. I have never asked you for a commitment. I have never asked you for anything! I’ve had enough of this—”

  He pulled into the parking lot in front of the clinic and she pushed her door open even before the car had stopped completely. He grabbed the wrist closest to him and held it firmly, uncompromisingly.

  “Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “What do you care?” she demanded.

  “I do care. Stop.”

  She turned to face him, the word “care” pathetically grabbing her attention. Even as she ached with a mixture of anger, sadness, and embarrassment, her heart longed for him and desperately hoped he would retract his words, tell her he was just scared of labels, scared of commitment, heck, scared of a little teasing from their families—anything, anything that would let her still care for him, let him still care for her. She had a sudden wild hope that he would admit that beyond caring about her, or liking her, he was crazy about her; that he was just as into her as she was into him, and all that “attached” junk was just fear talking.