by S. T. Bende
Then he turned for the door and tugged my hand gently. “Let’s get you home.”
When we walked in the hallway, three of the white-robed women rushed back in to tend to their patient. Tyr stepped aside for a hushed conversation with the fourth nurse before returning to my side.
“She’s doing better today. Hopefully it’s an upward trend.”
“I’m sure it is.” I squeezed his hand and followed him to the Hummer. He turned the car around and drove through the forest, weaving effortlessly through trees despite the apparent absence of a road.
“So what exactly is your job?” I couldn’t hold in the rest of my questions any longer. “I thought you were in Arcata to figure out your next steps after you left the military?”
Tyr glanced over as he drove. “You don’t miss much, do you?”
My fingers tapped my temple. “Steel trap. Answer the question.”
“I’m actually still involved with the military, but my role is hard to explain.” Tyr thought for a long moment. “Here’s the problem. I have a job I won’t be able to talk a lot about. I’m going to disappear for days at a time, and I won’t be able to tell you where I’ve been or why I left. I’ll show up with nasty injuries, and the only thing I’ll be able to tell you is that I’ll be okay. My job requires that I mitigate damages whenever possible. I’ll be overprotective and overbearing, but it’s because I know things I couldn’t begin to explain to you, and I don’t want you to end up on life support with my sister.” He reached across the console and put a hand on the back of my neck, rubbing softly behind my ear. His words sent a chill dancing across my skin but a second later, I melted into the touch.
“I’m not always going to be able to answer your questions, but I can promise I’ll always take care of you. I’ll never betray you, and I’ll make sure that whenever you’re with me, you’re safe. And if you still want to date me, I’d like to actually take you out. Like, outside of my house, and you’re not allowed to cook. What do you say?”
I hesitated. It wasn’t an ideal situation, given my need for all the details in every single situation, ever. And it wasn’t at all the way I’d imagined starting my first college relationship, if that was what this was going to be. It seemed like a stereotypically dimwitted chick move to blindly follow some guy who openly admitted to being secretive, angry, and oh yeah, fending off a killer that stalked everyone who got involved with him. But despite every lick of common sense screaming RUN, I didn’t want to. This might not have been what Jason meant when he’d told me to live a little, but if anyone was worth taking a leap of faith for, it was the Swedish dreamboat.
I made up my mind. For the first time, I was ignoring what I should do and following my heart.
Even if it landed me smack dab in the middle of a world of hurt. Or worse.
“Okay.” I nodded. “I’ll be patient. Well, I’ll try, anyway. Patience isn’t my strong suit.”
“Good.” Tyr exhaled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile. “So where do we go from here?”
I checked the clock on the dashboard. “How about dinner?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TYR’S HOUSE WAS BATHED in the warm glow of sunset when we pulled into the drive. He came around to open my door, then lifted me out of the car with ease. He left his hands around my waist a moment longer than necessary. It was a familiar gesture, and I stepped back.
“Why, Mia Ahlström. Did I make you blush?” Tyr’s telltale half-smile was as adorable as it was infuriating.
“No,” I lied.
“Pity. You ready?”
Tyr offered his hand, and I stared at the way the filtered light reflected off his fingers. His question hung in the air, a palpable tension crackling between us. This was it. Not exactly the traditional dinner party, but our dinner party nonetheless. And even though I’d been handcuffed, held at gunpoint, and found out my would-be suitor was harboring a very dark secret, this was the part of my day that scared me the most. It was the moment I took a chance on a guy I barely knew. A guy who, from what I could figure, was a member of the Swedish secret service, and might disappear on assignment at any moment, taking my heart right along with him. A guy my roommate recently admonished to ‘play nice,’ and who, by his own admission, might never be able to fully open up to me. A guy who seemed like an extremely imprudent boyfriend choice… if that was even what this was going to be.
Break the rules. Jason’s words rang in my head as my pulse thundered in my ears. Okay, big brother. But you better know what you’re talking about.
I put my manicured hand in Tyr’s slightly calloused one. He twined his fingers through mine and squeezed lightly, then planted a kiss on the top of my head.
We walked up the porch and Tyr opened the front door. “After you.”
When we stepped inside, we were greeted by the mouthwatering smell of fresh lasagna. Sweet niblets, Ahlström, you can cook! Tyr closed the door behind him and took my hand again, leading the way to the kitchen.
“That smells amazing. I know Brynn didn’t make it,” Tyr ribbed.
“Ha. Ha.” Brynn stuck her tongue out. “Putting it in the oven counts as helping. It smells great, Mia.”
I waved at my friend. “It’s my Meemaw’s recipe.”
“You going to share it?” Henrik whirled around, salad tongs in hand and Kiss The Cook apron around his chest. He glanced at my hand, still wrapped in Tyr’s, and broke into a saucy grin. “Well hei, you two.”
Brynn caught on immediately. She leaned against the counter, looking every bit the proverbial canary-eating cat. “About bloody time.”
I tried to pull my hand away, but Tyr held tight. “Come on, baby. Let’s set the table.”
My insides leaped in a dance worthy of admission to the Bolshoi. I followed Tyr to the cabinet and took the stack of plates he handed me, all the while running the words over and over in my head. Come on, baby. The nickname rolled off his tongue in that soft, lilting accent, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to say. My heart thumped joyfully, and I hugged the plates to my chest.
“You okay, Mia?” Henrik glanced over the top of his glasses.
“Never better.” I practically skipped to the table and began distributing plates, while Tyr set out knives, forks, spoons and linen napkins. Henrik carried the salad over, while Brynn set the lasagna on hot plates.
“Oh. I forgot the garlic bread.” Brynn jumped up and ran to the oven. She used an oven mitt to remove a foil-wrapped loaf of sourdough before bringing it to the table.
It was smoking.
Tyr opened his mouth, no doubt to make a snide remark, but when he saw Brynn’s expression his jaw snapped shut.
“Sorry guys,” she muttered.
Henrik patted her hand. “I always liked crispy bread, sötnos.”
He offered me one of the slightly less charred slices from the center of the loaf. He did the same for Tyr as Brynn doled out lasagna, and I dished up the salad. Soon we were happily eating.
“Mmm… sourdough.” I took a bite. “It’s so nice living in California.”
“The patriot in me feels compelled to point out that gingerbread is superior to sourdough. And it’s best made in Sweden.” Henrik cut into his pasta.
“Tell me more about where you guys are from.”
“What do you want to know?” Tyr took a bite. “This is delicious, Mia.”
“Thanks,” I demurred. “I don’t know, what was it like growing up together?”
Tyr and Henrik exchanged a glance. Tyr spoke first. “It was… interesting.”
“Interesting?” Brynn snorted. “It was a regular riot. I lived next door to the Andersson boys. Tyr and Elsa grew up a few properties away until—well, they were always nearby. I don’t have a single memory that doesn’t involve Tyr and Henrik beating each other senseless with sticks, swords, numb chucks—”
“Nunchucks,” Henrik corrected.
“Whatever. They basically spent first through sixth forms beating the living
daylights out of each other.”
“All in good fun.” Tyr leaned back. He set his utensils across his plate.
“Do you want seconds?” I held up the serving spoon.
“Maybe later.” He winked at me.
“Didn’t your brother beat on his friends growing up?” Brynn took a bite of salad.
“His friends. Me. Jason was a bruiser for a few years there.” Tyr bristled, but I just laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about it. My dad taught me a few choice moves. Let’s just say Jase’s friends loved the story about how Jason lost his first tooth when he tried to rough up his baby sister.”
Brynn leaned in. “Siblings fight. Guess that’s why Tyr and Henrik were always at each other.”
“You guys are brothers?” My eyes darted between the two. Nice gene pool.
“No. But the Anderssons took Elsa and me in when our parents were killed. We lived with Henrik and Gunnar from the time we were all in secondary school. They’re family.” Tyr shrugged.
“Where’s your brother live now, Henrik?” I asked.
“He just moved to Wales—he left home around the same time we moved here. He’s starting graduate school at Cardiff University with his wife, Inga, and their best friend, Ull.”
“Your brother’s still in school and he’s already married?” I blurted out.
“Ja. Well, he and Inga have known each other forever. And we’re a pretty traditional family.” Henrik ignored Tyr’s snort.
“They are.” Brynn glared.
“Is their friend… did you say his name’s ooo-hl?”
“Ull,” Henrik confirmed.
“Right.” These Swedes and their names were going to be the death of my pronunciation capabilities. “Is their friend Ull married, too?”
Henrik let out a laugh so loud, I guessed I’d asked the wrong question. “Ull’s a confirmed bachelor. He’s far too set in his ways to make room for a girl. Though if Inga had her way, she’d have him married off yesterday. She’s helpful like that.”
“Hmm. Well, it sounds like your brother’s in a happy place over there in Wales. And I think it’s great all of you were so close growing up, and that you’re such good friends now, sibling rivalry and brotherly brawls aside. I hope Tyr didn’t beat you up too badly when you were younger.” I winked at Henrik.
“For the record, I was the one beating him up.” Henrik puffed his chest.
“You wish.” Tyr rolled his eyes. “Only reason I never broke any of your bones is because I promised your mom I wouldn’t hurt her baby.”
“You want to arm wrestle? Right now. You, me, no rules.” Henrik tossed his napkin on the table.
“It’s on, Andersson. Loser buys the replacement table.” Tyr clenched his fist and set his elbow down.
Replacement table?
Brynn let out a wolf whistle. The boys turned to stare.
“Can we please press pause on the testosterone fest, and maybe finish dinner?” Brynn glared.
“Right. Sorry, Brynn.” Tyr sat back in his chair.
“Yeah, sorry.” Henrik shot Brynn an apologetic look.
I tried to hide my disappointment. Two six-foot-plus Swedish dreamboats arm wrestling might have been the high point of my college experience.
Later, I loaded the plates into the dishwasher while Tyr washed the pans and Henrik dried them. Brynn swept the floor, whistling the whole time. We had a good rhythm going as a foursome.
“What do you guys want to do now?” Tyr dried his hands on a dishtowel. “Want to watch a movie? Or would you rather play a game?”
Brynn and Henrik exchanged a glance. “We’re actually pretty tired. I think we’re gonna head upstairs for the night.”
Tyr rolled his eyes. “You are completely transparent. You know that?”
“You’re welcome.” Henrik grabbed Brynn and hustled out of the kitchen. I could hear her giggles all the way up the stairs.
“Not exactly subtle. Though they are effective.” Tyr crossed the room in two large strides and backed me against the counter. He put his hands around me on the granite surface, pinning me in.
The atmosphere in the kitchen went from zero to sixty in half a second.
“Um…”
He was so close. His scent filled every square inch of my head, scrambling my brainwaves. He leaned in so his torso pressed against my chest. I clung to the counter for support.
“We’re alone. Finally.” Tyr’s breath was cool against my skin.
“We’ve been alone before,” I squeaked.
“Details.” He ran his nose down my jaw. My eyes rolled back. He was going to have to stop touching me if he wanted me to be able to form a coherent sentence.
I stared at him with wide eyes. He looked back at me, fire emanating from his azure stare. My breath caught. Before I could register what was happening, he cradled the back of my head with one hand. He fisted my hair and brought his mouth down, crushing his lips over mine. It wasn’t a gentle first kiss; it was forceful. Demanding. Possessive.
Coherent sentences were so overrated.
Tyr tugged my hair and my head fell back, making my jaw go slack. He took advantage of my vulnerability and probed my mouth, exploring every surface with his tongue. I met each gentle push with one of my own, tasting his unbelievable sweetness. He pulled back and nipped at my lower lip, then sucked gently on the sensitive skin. He brought his mouth down to my jaw, grazing the skin with his teeth before settling on the hollow of my neck. Oh, hot bejeebus. He drew lazy circles with his tongue, then moved to my collar bone, following the line down the V-neck of my shirt. When I shivered, he lifted his head to examine my eyes.
I tentatively reached up to touch his cheek, running my fingers along the stubble on his jaw. It tickled.
“You okay?” he murmured.
“Yes,” I whispered, stroking the strong line of his chin. I brought my other hand up to his chest and touched the taut surface with the pads of my fingers.
“You sure?”
“Positive.” I stared at his chest, stroking the muscles with my thumb. When I looked back up, his eyes were closed.
“You want to watch a movie?” he offered.
“Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Not particularly. But it seems like the gentlemanly thing to ask.”
“Well, if you’re being all gentlemanly, how could I say no?” I teased.
Tyr put his hand on the small of my back and guided me to the living room.
“Pick your poison. We’ve got a pretty good selection. I’ll go make popcorn.” He opened a drawer, and I picked through the DVDs, while the sound of popping kernels came from the kitchen. When I found a winner, I held it up triumphantly.
“Here.” I grinned as Tyr came back into the room.
“Of course you picked Henrik’s chick movie. Well, in it goes.” He popped the disc into the player, then got comfortable on the sectional. “Come here, baby.”
He patted the seat and I curled up against him. He tucked the houndstooth throw around us, and set the popcorn on his lap, then wrapped an arm around my shoulders and rubbed my shoulder with his thumb.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Extremely.” I lay my cheek against his chest and picked up a kernel of popcorn.
Tyr kissed the top of my head softly. “What is it with girls and this movie? Brynn loves it, too. She makes us watch it all the time.”
“The Princess Bride is a classic,” I explained. “Adventure and villains and camp and heroes and romance. That fantastic old hag. And a man who’d do anything to be with the girl he loves. He never gave up on her—ever. And she loves him to the end of the earth and back again. It’s hopelessly charming, in every conceivable way.”
“You mean every inconceivable way?” I could hear Tyr’s smile.
“Good one.” I giggled. “Now hush your mouth. It’s starting.”
“Did you just hush me?”
“Shhh.” I took another piece of popcorn.
“She hushed me,” Tyr
muttered. But he didn’t say anything else as the opening sequence rolled. I snuggled closer, breathing in his now-familiar smell. It felt good, watching a movie, tucked under his arm.
It felt right.
Tyr pulled me against him, and laid his head on top of mine. I closed my eyes, relishing the closeness. And before I knew what was happening, my focus started to drift. The movie became a soothing babble of background noise. The last thing I remember before I fell asleep was Tyr’s mouth against my hairline, murmuring something that made absolutely no sense.
“Förbaskat, Mia. Jag kunde falla för dig.”
****
I woke up early and pulled a ballet sweater over my camisole. Tyr must have carried me to the guest room while I was sleeping. Had he watched the rest of the movie first? The idea of Tyr watching the ultimate chick flick on his own made me giggle as I walked to the kitchen in bare feet, intent on brewing coffee. If I could find the right ingredients, I’d whip up a proper breakfast while I was at it. The pristine Viking range called my name.
When I had the coffee brewing, I turned to the refrigerator. A quick examination turned up eggs, milk, cheese and greens. A spinach frittata would be easy enough to pull together. I found a mixing bowl and a whisk, and moved to the island to begin chopping. As I scraped the leaves into the egg mixture, a pair of strong arms circled me from behind.
“Morning.” Tyr leaned over and pressed his cheek against mine. The stubble tickled my skin.
“Morning.” I set the cutting board down so I could turn in his arms. They were warm, and hard, thick muscles peeking out from the sleeves of a grey T-shirt. My palms lay flat against his chest as I lifted my head. Tyr brought his mouth down, claiming my lips in an intense kiss.
He pulled back. “Next time, I pick the movie. I can’t believe you fell asleep.”
“In my defense, it was kind of a big day.” I pushed him away and turned back to my eggs. “Attacked at gunpoint, meeting the family, working on my paper…”