The Swede

by Maureen Smith

  “So whose posters did you hang on your wall when you were growing up?” he asked. “Led Zeppelin, I’m sure.”

  “Of course. Gotta have Zeppelin.” She grinned, munching on a French fry. “I also had posters of Cindy Blackman and Sheila E., two of the best drummers in the world. They totally inspired me when I was growing up.”

  “Yeah, I could tell by the big Kool-Aid smile on your face when you met them,” Viggo teased.

  “You saw the pictures?”

  “Yeah. On your Instagram.”

  Scarlett laughed. “Yeah, I went all fangirl on them. I couldn’t help myself. They’re so fucking badass. Totally my sheroes.”

  Viggo grinned. “You got to play the drums with them at that festival. How exciting was that?”

  “Beyond exciting,” she enthused with a happy sigh. “One of the most unforgettable experiences of my life.”

  “I bet.” Viggo smiled, watching her. “God, I love the way your whole face lights up when you talk about things that excite you.”

  She felt herself blush. “I tend to get a little animated—”

  “I love it. Don’t ever change.”

  She grinned and took a healthy bite of her cheeseburger. It was delicious, nestled inside a toasted bun and slathered with guacamole. Viggo had made quick work of his meal and was now nursing his vanilla shake.

  Chewing her burger, Scarlett glanced out the window. The wind was howling and the snow was coming down in sheets.

  “Looks like we might get those twenty inches they predicted.”

  Viggo followed her gaze and smiled. “We should go outside and build a snowman.”

  Scarlett shot him an incredulous look. “In this weather?”

  He shrugged. “As we say back home: Det finns inget dåligt väder, bara dåliga kläder.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “There’s no bad weather, only bad clothes.”

  Scarlett laughed. “As a Coloradoan, I beg to differ!”

  He grinned and took a sip of his milkshake, licking away the frothy residue from his upper lip.

  Her insides clenched, watching him.

  “Reid says Nadia agreed to go camping and hiking with him when the weather warms up,” he said. “The four of us should go together sometime. That’d be fun.”

  Scarlett’s stomach flip-flopped at the thought of them doing a bunch of couples stuff with Reid and Nadia. “That does sound fun.”

  When Viggo winked at her, more stomach flipping occurred. She finished her burger as he watched her, a little smile playing over his lips.

  “So,” she said conversationally, “you have five siblings, huh?”

  “Yep.” His smile spread.

  “What are their names again?” Like you haven’t memorized them. “Oldest to youngest.”

  “Leif, Freya, Astrid, Rikard, me and Svea.”

  “Wow,” Scarlett marveled, shaking her head. “Your parents are amazing. I couldn’t imagine having six children.”

  Viggo gave her an amused look. “How many children do you want?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure I want any.”

  He cocked his head to one side, studying her. “You don’t like kids?”

  “I love kids. Other people’s kids.”

  He said nothing, his eyes probing hers. She could sense his curiosity and an underlying disappointment. But why should he care what she did or didn’t do with her womb? It wasn’t like he was auditioning her as a potential wife.

  Maybe he was judging her simply because he loved kids so much. During home games, he always slapped high fives with young fans on his way to the locker room between periods. He volunteered in the community and raised a ton of money for nonprofit youth organizations. He, Reid, Logan and Hunter served as instructors at youth hockey camps during the offseason. Given all that, it was safe to assume he probably wanted as many children as his parents had, and maybe he thought less of any woman who didn’t want to bring her own offspring into the world.

  Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Scarlett lowered her eyes and took a long slurp of her milkshake.

  Viggo looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t decide whether he should.

  She seized the opportunity to change the subject. “So what’s it like being the grandson of a Swedish hockey legend? Do you feel constant pressure to live up to his fame?”

  A shadow flitted over Viggo’s face. “Not really.”

  “Really? You don’t?”

  “Maybe when I was younger,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over a bead of condensation on his glass.

  “Is it true that he actually turned down a chance to play in the NHL?”

  Viggo nodded, his gaze drifting out the window. “He didn’t think he had to leave Sweden to be validated as a great hockey player.”

  “I can understand that. Sweden has such a rich hockey history.” Scarlett smiled at Viggo. “I’ve seen old footage of your grandfather playing hockey. You look so much like him it’s scary.”

  He made a noncommittal sound and drank the rest of his shake. There was a sudden chill in the air that had nothing to do with the swirling snowstorm outside.

  Scarlett studied him. “So are you and your grandfather close?”

  He stared out the window for a long moment before answering. “We used to be.”

  “Oh?” She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she gently prompted, “But you’re not anymore?”

  “No.” He set his glass down carefully. His eyes were shadowed. “We’re not.”

  Obviously there was some kind of a story there, Scarlett realized.

  Before she could probe further, he suggested, “Let’s watch that movie you like. The one with the song from your singing telegram.”

  She gave him a surprised look. “Center Stage?”

  “Yeah. That one.”

  She tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “You’re gonna think it’s super cheesy and clichéd.”

  He grinned. “Doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy it.”

  She smiled, secretly pleased that he wanted to watch one of her favorite movies. “You’d better not be rolling your eyes and making snarky comments.”

  He laughed. “I’ll be on my best behavior,” he promised, rising from his chair.

  He wheeled the room service cart out into the hallway while she grabbed her laptop and a spare blanket from the closet, then made herself comfortable on the sofa. As she queued up the movie, she could hear Viggo talking to someone outside the door.

  She glanced up as he came back into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. “Who were you talking to?” she asked curiously.

  “Some guy from down the hall. He came here on business and got stranded. He says the hotel’s completely booked and they’re turning people away. He also mentioned something about complimentary cocktails in the lobby at six.”

  Scarlett grinned. “Free booze? I’m there.”

  Viggo chuckled as he joined her under the blanket. When his hard thigh brushed against hers, tingles of awareness shot through her. She wondered if they’d be able to get through an entire movie without jumping each other’s bones.

  He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. She snuggled into his side, resting her head on his chest.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Your hair smells incredible. What brand of shampoo do you use?”

  “It’s not in regular stores,” she said with a lazy smile. “I get it from beauty supply stores that sell natural hair products.”

  “Mmm.” He nuzzled the crown of her head with his chin. “I love your hair.”

  “And I love yours.” She snuggled deeper into his chest, luxuriating in his scent and his warmth. “After this we can binge watch Vikings.”

  He snorted. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve seen the way my sisters drool over that guy who plays Ragnar—”

  “Travis Fimmel.”

  “Yeah. H
im.”

  Scarlett laughed at his disgruntled tone. “Why would I drool over Travis when I’ve got my very own Viking sitting right beside me? I mean, don’t get me wrong. Travis is hot as hell, but you’re way hotter.”

  She could almost see Viggo smirk. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “It’s not flattery. It’s the truth.” She cuddled closer, skimming a palm over his stomach. “I told you before that you’re hotter than Chris Hemsworth. I also think you’re hotter than Charlie Hunnam, David Beckham, your fellow Swede Alexander Skarsgård—”

  “Are those your man crushes?”

  “Just the blond ones.” She grinned.

  Viggo grunted. “We’re still not watching Vikings.”

  She laughed and snapped her fingers, then sighed and pressed PLAY to start the movie.

  With a blizzard raging outside, her belly full of food and Viggo’s fingers playing in her hair, it was hard not to doze off. He kept his word and didn’t crack any snarky jokes, though he laughed several times at scenes that weren’t meant to be funny. When she poked his ribs, he just laughed harder. She had to give him a pass because some of the acting and dialogue were truly cringe-worthy.

  When the movie ended, he clapped.

  She grinned. “Are you clapping because you enjoyed it? Or because you’re glad it’s over?”

  “I’m not glad it’s over.”

  “Then you enjoyed it?”

  “It was…entertaining.” His voice held a faint note of laughter.

  “Entertaining?” Scarlett moved off his chest, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. “Is that your polite way of saying it sucked balls?”

  He burst out laughing, broad shoulders shaking. She tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help it. His amusement was contagious.

  Soon she was laughing so hard that she had to sit up and put her head back on the sofa. This only increased Viggo’s mirth. They both laughed until tears ran down their faces and they had to clutch their aching sides.

  It was some time before either of them could speak without cracking up again. Wiping tears from the corners of their eyes, they sighed and grinned at each other.

  “You are so canceled as a boyfriend,” Scarlett teased.

  Viggo chuckled. “I tried to be good.”

  “You were. For the most part.” She grinned sheepishly. “I know Center Stage isn’t an Oscar-caliber movie, but I enjoy it. It’s one of those guilty pleasures.”

  Viggo grinned. “Like that old hockey movie Slap Shot. It’s cheesy as fuck, but I don’t know any hockey player who doesn’t love it.”

  Scarlett laughed. “Slap Shot is a classic.”

  “The best.” He sighed, then glanced around the room for a few moments and frowned slightly.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s Christmas Eve. We need a tree.”

  “I know,” she said with a wistful sigh. “I wish we had one.”

  Viggo got quiet, his brows furrowed in thought.

  She watched him with amused curiosity. “I see the wheels turning. What’s going through that head of yours?”

  He stood up, dislodging the blanket. Her curiosity grew as he went over to the nightstand, grabbed his wallet and stuffed it into the front pocket of his gray joggers.

  Then he came back to her. “Let’s go,” he said decisively.

  “Where?”

  “I’m getting you a Christmas tree.”

  Scarlett gave a startled snort of laughter. “Um, need I remind you that we’re in the middle of a blizzard? All the stores are closed, and I doubt there are any tree farms around.”

  He grabbed her hand. “I know where to find a tree. C’mon.”

  She laughed again, shaking her head as he tugged her out the door and down the hallway to the elevator. He didn’t even give her a chance to put on shoes over her thick socks.

  She eyed him suspiciously. “What’re you up to, Sandström?”

  He gave her a cryptic little smile. “You’ll see.”

  They rode the elevator down to the lobby. When the doors opened, he instructed, “Hang back a little. The plan might not work if she knows we’re together.”

  “What plan?”

  But he was already sauntering across the lobby. Intrigued, Scarlett followed more slowly.

  The front desk clerk glanced up, her eyes widening at the sight of Viggo. Scarlett could tell she didn’t recognize him. All she saw was an insanely hot man, and that was enough to get her drooling as Viggo walked up to her.

  Scarlett loitered nearby, pretending to peruse tourist brochures on a rack by the desk.

  “Hello,” Viggo greeted the brunette in a thick Swedish accent.

  “Hi,” she breathed. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Ja. I mean, yes. Sorry,” Viggo said sheepishly. “English is not my first language.”

  The woman beamed. “That’s okay. I can understand you perfectly.”

  He gave her an endearingly boyish smile. Scarlett could practically see the broad’s panties melting into a steamy mess.

  “Ever since I learned that I won’t make it home to Sweden for Christmas, I have been feeling…how to say…” Viggo trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

  “Homesick?” the brunette supplied.

  “Yah. Homesick.” He flashed another heart-melting smile.

  The poor woman lost more brain cells. “I’m so sorry you couldn’t get back home to Sweden. This blizzard is the absolute worst, right?”

  “It is,” Viggo ruefully agreed. “It would make me very happy if I could put a tree in my room.”

  The brunette’s smile wavered. “You want a Christmas tree in your room?”

  “Yah.” He put more wattage behind his smile. “Do you know where I can find one?”

  “Well, um, no—”

  “What about this one?” He pointed to the pre-lit tabletop tree that stood aglow on the counter.

  The brunette looked slightly confused. “You want that tree?”

  “Yah. It’s perfect.”

  She cleared her throat. “Well, yes, but it’s not really—”

  “Please?” He trained those mesmerizing eyes on her. “It would really make me feel less homesick.”

  She swallowed visibly and looked around the lobby as if to make sure no one was watching. Scarlett glanced away just in time.

  Not surprisingly, the woman acquiesced. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a problem—”

  Viggo looked hopeful. “I can have this tree?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Viggo grinned broadly. “Tack så mycket. Thank you so much.”

  She beamed up at him. “You are so welcome.”

  He pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill and passed it to her.

  She looked flustered. “Oh no, you don’t have to—”

  “I insist.” He smiled coaxingly.

  She glanced furtively around, then reached across the counter and took the money, letting her fingers brush his.

  He winked at her. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Same to you,” she gushed as he picked up the tabletop tree. “If you can’t make it back to Sweden after the snowstorm, feel free to look me up. My name’s Whitney.”

  Viggo gave her another wink, then turned and headed back toward the elevator with the twinkling tree under his arm.

  Scarlett shook her head at the starry-eyed brunette, then casually turned and moseyed across the lobby to catch up with Viggo. His eyes gleamed at her as she hopped into the elevator beside him. She felt like Bonnie to his Clyde.

  As soon as the doors closed, she burst into incredulous laughter. “Holy shit! You are so wrong for that!”

  He gave her a sexy wink. “Told you I’d get you a tree.”

  “Um, yeah, but not like that!”

  He shrugged, a mischievous smile curving his lips. “What’s the problem?”

  “Dude, seriously? You can’t go around unleashing all that—” She gestured to encompass him �
��—on unsuspecting hotel clerks. You could get that chick fired!”

  “Nah,” he said with a chuckle. “She won’t get fired.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I have a good feeling.”

  Scarlett laughed, shaking her head. “You and your Swedish accent. Seriously, how many other women have you conned with that ‘helpless foreigner’ shtick?”

  His grin was cocky. “I’ve lost count.”

  She punched his arm, making him laugh and kiss her forehead.

  “The shtick—as you call it—works so well because most people don’t realize that most Swedes speak English.”

  “But you didn’t,” Scarlett pointed out. “Not very well, anyway.”

  He shrugged. “I was the exception, not the rule.”

  “In more ways than one,” she said under her breath.

  When he gave her a dissolutely rakish smile, her panties went from dry to drenched in zero seconds flat. She shook her head again and stared up at the electronic floor display. “You, sir, are dangerous.”

  He laughed, low and wicked.

  When they stepped off the elevator, Scarlett threw her arms around his neck, stretched up on tiptoe and smooched his cheek.

  He grinned down at her, his free arm circling her waist. “Did I do good?”

  “Ja. You did very good.” She beamed at him. “I know I gave you a hard time, but thank you for getting the tree. You’re my hero.”

  “Yeah?” His eyes glinted suggestively as he drew her closer. “And what do I get for my heroism?”

  She had just leaned up to kiss him when a door opened and voices filled the hallway. When she tried to move away, Viggo tightened his hold and gave her a kiss that made her dizzy.

  Two men approaching the elevator whistled encouragingly and joked, “Get a room.”

  Viggo laughed as Scarlett blushed, grabbed his hand and tugged him down the hallway.

  Once back in their room, he set the tree down on the table by the window. Scarlett came up beside him, and together they stood admiring their little Christmas tree bedecked with twinkling lights.

  Scarlett let out a happy sigh. “It’s perfect.”

  “It is.” Viggo wrapped his arm around her waist. “It couldn’t be more perfect.”

  They shared a tender smile before he cupped her cheek, bent his head and kissed her again. Her whole body went haywire—every atom and molecule, every cell and fiber sizzling with electricity.