”Okay, great. See you.” They stood there for a few seconds longer, just looking at each other, until he finally broke away and strode out the door. He was quite tall and looked very well-built, but not in a bulky, over-done way. She thought he probably worked out regularly, but not obsessively. His backside filled out his jeans perfectly.
”Who was that hot piece of ass?” Sasha appeared as if out of thin air, and hissed the question in her ear.
”Actually, I don’t even know his name,” she answered, feeling a little dumb for having agreed to meet up with a man whose name she didn’t even know.
”All right, but what did he want?”
”He was here this morning, having a cup of coffee and a sandwich. I think he’s American.”
”So why did he come back? Did he forget something earlier?”
”No, he didn’t.” She still felt stunned at the turn her day had just taken. ”He… he wants me to guide him around the Old Town when I get off today.”
”Guide him?” Sasha looked confused. ”But you’re not a tourist guide.”
”No, I know that, and I told him so, but he insisted. I don’t have to be home until six tonight, so it’s his time to waste, I guess.” She tried to sound cool and nonchalant but she trembled inside at the thought of seeing him again.
”Huh.” Sasha sounded skeptical. ”Are you sure he’s not some crazy freak who’s going to strangle you in some alley and throw you into the Stream?” Sasha raised an eyebrow at her, only half-joking.
”He could very well be.” She was also only half-joking. ”But how can I not take my chances with that ass?” She smiled teasingly at Sasha and returned to clearing tables.
”All right, but you’d better text me on your way home tonight so I know you’re all right. And tomorrow I want to hear all about it, you hear?”
”Aye, aye, Captain.”
Chapter 2
He was punctual. When she stepped outside the café at exactly ten past two, he was there waiting, greeting her with one of his stunning smiles. They always caught her off-guard and dazzled her into stupefied silence.
”Hi there,” he smiled.
”Hello,” she answered, after inhaling sharply to clear her dizzy head.
”I was a little worried you’d change your mind and bail on me.”
”Why would I do that?” she asked, confused.
”I don’t know. I felt like maybe I was a bit too persistent earlier. I was afraid I had scared you off.”
”Nope, not yet. But you’re not an axe-murderer or anything, are you?” She smiled at him, but held her breath waiting for his reply.
He laughed.
”I’m many things, but I’m not that. On the way back here I realized I don’t even know your name,” he continued, more serious. ”Are you perhaps some alluring, female sociopath, I wonder?” He reached out and pulled a lock of her hair, that had blown across her face, back into place. She shivered beneath his touch and wished he hadn’t immediately dropped his hand.
”I’m Olivia and no, I’m no sociopath. Not particularly alluring either, but I can be quite the cranky bitch, if you ask my little brothers.”
He laughed.
”I never take what little brothers say seriously.”
”What’s your name, then, and where are you from?” she asked, suddenly eager to know everything there was to know about this man.
He gave her a strange look, as if he was searching for clues in her face. Clues for what? she thought. Whatever it was he was looking for in her expression, he seemed satisfied, because he smiled down at her again.
”My name is Nate. I’m from Tulsa, Oklahoma. Do you know where that is?”
”Oklahoma is a state in the U.S., right? But I’m afraid I don’t know exactly where. Somewhere south, with Cowboys and Indians, perhaps?”
He smiled again at that.
”Yes, that’s right. I’m a bit of a cowboy myself, actually. My parents own a cattle ranch outside Tulsa.”
”So you grew up on horseback, driving cattle?” She couldn’t help smiling back at him, it seemed like the natural thing to do in his presence. Smile like an imbecile, stunned by his beauty and mesmerizing persona.
”Yep, pretty much.”
”What are you doing here, then? Sweden is a long way from Oklahoma.”
”Sure is,” he agreed. ”I’m here on business, fitting in some sightseeing between meetings.”
”Aha.” They fell silent. She looked around her.
”So, Mr Tourist, what would you like to see? You’ve seen the Royal Palace. Have you seen anything else of the Old Town yet?”
”Not really, I’ve just been wandering around today, with no plan really. What would you like to show me? I’ll let you decide.”
”Okay. Hmm.” She deliberated for a second. ”I want to show you some of the stories that go with this part of Stockholm. What kind of stories do you like? Tragedies? Romances? Horror-stories?” She grinned mischievously at him.
He chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on her face all the while.
”I love any kind of story, as long as it’s any good,” he finally said. ”Do you have a favorite from the Old Town? If so, I’d love to hear that.” He didn’t seem to be able to refrain from smiling either, perhaps it was something in the air today? She shook her head slightly at her own silliness.
”Okay then, I’ll tell you my favorite horror-story. Or maybe it’s more of a tragedy. It’s definitely a cautionary tale,” she mused and looked out at the street in front of them. ”Come to think of it, there might even be a little romance in there somewhere. You’re getting a really good deal here, Mr Cowboy, there’s a little bit of everything in that story.” She grinned teasingly at him, feeling so giddy and free with him. It was a little like teasing her brothers, but even more fun.
He laughed again.
”I knew you were a real find, the moment I saw you,” he teased back. ”I said to myself, ’Now, that girl, Nate, she could tell you a really good horror-story.’”
She started giggling, ”Was it the shade of my hair that tipped you off, or what?”
”Ha, ha, cute. No,” he said, suddenly turning serious, ”I think it’s because you look like a fairytale come true. Those eyes of yours look like they’re hiding a wealth of secret stories.” She was caught in his gaze again, once more mesmerized by his eyes.
She cleared her throat, trying to break the spell. Maybe he sensed that she felt a little uncomfortable, because he let go of her gaze and looked away.
”So, what’s this horror-story about?”
”It’s a tale of jealousy, arrogance and the lethal madness of large, angry mobs.”
”Sounds truly frightening,” he agreed. ”Let’s go. I’m dying to hear this story.”
”Good,” she said. ”On the way, I’ll show you a few landmarks, if you’d like.”
”Sounds perfect.” He smiled down at her again and she marveled once more at the chiseled beauty of his features.
He was dressed casually and looked young. She wondered again how old he was. She assumed he must come from money if the family sent him all the way to Stockholm on business. Cattle business, no less. She’d never heard of American ranchers coming to Stockholm to sell their cattle but what did she know?
She led him through the narrow alleys and prongs of Old Town and stopped here and there to point out interesting things to him. He was fascinated by the old stone pipe sticking out at the bottom of one of the houses.
”That’s where the waste came out. It ran right out into the street. Here, do you see? Can you imagine what it must have smelled like here back then?”
”Yes,” he said in wonder. ”How old is this house?”
”I’d guess 1500’s or there about.”’
”Wow. That’s ancient.”
”Yeah, but it’s still not the oldest place here. The Old Town dates back to early medieval times. People have lived here since the 1200’s or so.”
”Wow.”
”That must
seem really old to you, right?”
”Yes, it does. It’s hard to grasp. The oldest buildings in Oklahoma are no more than a hundred years or so. Before that it was all prairie and teepees.” He exaggerated his southern twang and smiled at her.
”Wow, I’ve never met a real-life cowboy before,” she teased him.
”Funny, I’ve never met a natural blonde before,” he teased her back. ”That is your real color, isn’t it?” he inquired, all the while his eyes caressed her unruly curls. They were trying their hardest to escape the simple bun she kept her hair in while at work.
”Yes, I’m afraid so,” she admitted. ”Although I’m not really blonde, more like strawberry-blonde. Or red-haired, if you want to be mean. Not very popular with the guys at school, when I grew up.” She looked away, silently berating herself for talking too much, revealing far too much.
”Those boys were idiots. It’s beautiful.”
She looked up, taken by surprise by the fierce longing in his voice. He was looking at her, and she felt as if she was going to melt into his smoldering eyes. She blushed. Great, now she matched the tint of her hair, she thought, and had to look away.
”So, where to now?” he asked, sticking his beautiful hands in the pockets of his jeans.
She glanced at him. He truly was a gorgeous creature. Surely he must be taken already? But there was no wedding ring, she’d checked twice already. Still, he probably had a live-in girlfriend back home. Even if he by some miracle happened to be single, he would never choose her. He was way out of her league. She tried to comfort herself with the fact that there really was no room in her life for a man anyway. She wasn’t ready to let anyone that close. Maybe she never would be. She forced herself back from the painful route her thoughts inevitably wanted to take, and answered him.
”This way, I’ll show you the narrowest alley in all of Stockholm. One of the oldest too, I think.” She smiled at him and told herself she would enjoy these precious, few hours with him. He was going to leave and she would never see him again, but she would always have this one, magical afternoon with him.
”So, what did you think of the sandwich I tricked you into buying this morning?” she asked after a little while.
He chuckled at that.
”You can trick me into buying sandwiches anytime you feel like it,” he said. ”But this one was actually surprisingly tasty. The meatballs were amazing, I’ve never had cold Swedish meatballs before. I’m not sure about the beetroot salad, though,” he confessed.
She laughed.
”No, it takes some getting used to. Glad you liked the meatballs though,” she smiled up at him. ”What’s the national dish of Oklahoma? Not Swedish meatballs, I’m guessing?”
”I don’t know,” he seemed to consider her question very seriously. ”Corn-dogs, perhaps?”
She started giggling then.
”I don’t even know what that is,” she admitted. ”Dogs made out of corn?”
He laughed too, at that.
”No, not exactly. Corn-dogs are hotdogs wrapped in deep-fried cornbread, on a stick,” he explained. ”I loved those when I was a kid. Who am I kidding?” He winked at her. ”I still love corn-dogs.”
She giggled again. She felt like a silly fourteen-year-old, but she was so happy walking next to him, she really didn’t care. He looked pleased at making her laugh, his face soft with some emotion she felt too shy to name, even to herself.
She decided to change the subject.
”Did you find anything you liked at the bookstore?”
”Yes, I did,” he said. ”Actually, I bought a little too many books. They had a really good selection of English fiction so I went a bit crazy, I’m afraid. I had to ask them to send them over to the hotel for me.” He seemed a little embarrassed by that.
”So you like to read, I take it?” she asked, thinking it was too good to be true, that he was a reader besides being a demigod.
”Yes, I do,” he said, looking over at her. ”I love stories of any kind. It doesn’t matter how they’re packaged - in literature, films, plays, or any other art form. I’m just hooked on stories, always have been. My parents read a lot to me when I was little, and once I learnt how to read, I just kept going.”
”Really?” she asked, feeling a strange, tender yearning at the thought of the boy he must have been, with his nose stuck in a book.
”Do you like to read?” he asked her, his eyes resting for a moment on her lips.
”I do,” she said. ”Well, that’s a bit of an understatement, I’m a total bookworm. It’s pathetic really. If there was some way I could make a living just reading books, I would.”
”What kind of books do you read?”
”Oh, just about anything I can get my hands on, but I love historical novels a lot. Like ’The Crimson Petal and the White’ by Michel Faber. Have you read it?” she asked, getting a little carried away with her favorite topic.
”Nope, afraid not. What’s it about?”
”Well,” she hesitated, suddenly realizing he might think her taste in books odd once she described the story-line, ”it’s about a prostitute named Sugar, and how she makes her way up in the world with the help of her sugar-daddy, I guess you could say. It’s set in the second half of the nineteenth century.” She suddenly blushed. ”God, you must think I’m so weird!”
He laughed.
”No, actually I’m thinking I’ve never met anyone as intriguing as you before.” His voice caressed her and she felt a curious tingling in the pit of her stomach.
”Anyway, enough about my strange taste in literature. What kind of books do you like the most?”
”I’m a lot like you, I think. I read pretty much anything that takes my fancy,” he confided. ”I love guy’s stuff, like fantasy and science fiction. Lately I’ve read several Dresden-files novels. They’re hilarious. Ever heard of them?” he asked, his eyes lingering on her face.
”Yes, my brother Markus loves those.”
”Really? Have they been translated into Swedish?”
”I don’t know. Markus reads them in English. Both of my brothers love visiting the Sci-fi-bookstore, by the way. So, did you get any of those Dresden-files-books there today?”
”Yes, the latest one, actually. And then I got several books by authors I haven’t read before.”
”Like who?”
”Well, one of them is a Swedish author, Karin Tidbeck. The guy in the store recommended that one. It’s a collection of short stories, called ’Jagannath’. He said it’s unlike anything he’d ever read before, so I’m really looking forward to checking it out.”
”Sounds interesting. I’ve never heard of her. I’ll have to check it out, too.” She smiled at him. It was so easy to talk to him. She wasn’t usually like this at all with people she didn’t know. But he felt so oddly familiar to her, like a kindred spirit. She had obviously read ’Anne of Green Gables’ too many times as a child, she thought, exasperated with herself.
”Do you like reading fantasy?”
”No, I’m not really a fantasy or sci-fi kind of girl. Although, I am obsessed with ’The Lord of the Rings’. I’ve read that trilogy like twelve times. Pathetic, huh?” She looked up at him, forever on her guard as to when she would see that look on his face that said: ”You’re such a boring nerd!” She always expected that look from people when she talked about her interests. But that expression was still nowhere near his face. Instead he grinned at her, his beautiful smile stunning her once again.
”Seriously? I love Tolkien! I’m like his biggest fan. My brothers tease me so much about it, because they outgrew his writing in Junior High. Or so they claim. They can’t understand why I still read him.”
”Really? Outgrow Tolkien? What a strange notion!” she joked and grinned back at him. ”Lord of the Rings is my all-time favorite saga. I cry every time I reach the end and have to say goodbye to Frodo and Sam and all the others. I get total separation anxiety. That’s probably why I keep re-reading the books.”
He smiled at her.
”I never thought I’d meet a girl who loves those books as much as I do,” he said, and looked at her with a strange, almost tender yearning in his eyes. She longed to reach out and touch him, just once feel his skin against her fingers. Instead she kept walking.
”So, what are you reading right now?” she asked.
”I just finished re-reading ’Grapes of Wrath’.”
”Steinbeck?”
”Yep. It starts out in Oklahoma, but that’s not why I love it so much. I love the scale of his writing, it’s so epic and universal. Not to mention beautiful. I always find something new in his books, something I didn’t see before. What are you reading right now?”
She blushed a little.
”Oh, I’m so predictably girlish. I’m deep into a Jane Austen-binge right now. I go through those every now and then.”
He smiled at her. Then he bent down and murmured in her ear,
”I would have to kill you if you ever told anyone this, but ’Persuasion’ is one of my all-time favorites.”
She stopped and stared at him.
”No way! ’Persuasion’?”
”Shh,” he said, ”don’t out me on the streets of Stockholm! I have my image as a cowboy to protect!”
She giggled and started walking again.
”’Persuasion’ is my favorite too,” she said. ”The quiet agony of Anne’s regrets and the yearning between them - it’s so beautiful. Of course Wentworth can never forget Anne, she’s the One! You find the One, and there will never be a number Two, right?” she joked.
”My sentiments exactly. True love is rare and worth fighting for, to the bitter end,” he declared, and grinned at her. She wasn’t sure if he was teasing her or not.
They walked and talked and she showed him all of her favorite spots in the Old Town. He asked her about her life, her family and her plans for the future. She told him about her brothers; their names, how old they were and that she was looking after them since their parents’ death four years earlier. She talked about working at the café, and how she didn’t feel comfortable working as a waitress in a restaurant, because of the alcohol served at night and how that affected some customers. Although she would probably have made more money if she had. She even told him about her dream of becoming a writer, and that she had recently started sending around manuscripts, of a novel she’d written, to several different publishers in Stockholm. He seemed so interested in everything she had to say, that she almost forgot that she was monopolizing the conversation.
Destined for the Star (Starstruck) Page 2