Nordic Lessons (6 page)

I haven’t been seen with a woman on my bike since I ended it with Sansa nearly two years back, and what a fucking disaster that turned out to be. Everyone knows how little interest I’ve had in women lately. What they don’t know is why. No one has a clue that I’ve been waiting patiently to cross paths with exactly the right one.

Bern shouts loudly to me over the blaring bass of the band, “Mikkel! Thank fuck you’re here! Need to go get ice! Bar’s heaving. Come tend for me, yeah?”

He’s already rounding the end of the long, granite bar, large plastic bin in hand, heading down the back steps toward the ice machine.

Perfect
. I spot an open barstool next to Lisetta. My cousin can help me out tonight by keeping Elora company.

We take the three steps up to the elevated platform of the bar area and I turn to face her. “Okay, I’m going to introduce you to my younger cousin. Hang here with her until I can get someone sober enough to free me up from bar duty.”

The music is pounding around us as she nods once in compliance. I rest my hand against Lisetta’s back. “Hey, Lisetta.”

She turns around and breaks into a beaming smile. “Mikkel! I’m so digging this new band you booked! Where’d you find them?”

“Heard about them from Sven. They’re new, young. Trying to get their name out there. Listen, need a solid from you tonight. You in?”

Her blond head cocks in curiosity. “Sure, what’s up?”

I step to my right to reveal Elora, who has been standing patiently behind me. Lisetta’s eyes pop open wide in blatant interest.

“Elora, this is my little cousin Lisetta. Lisetta, Elora. Have a seat. I’ll send you a drink and we’ll catch up when I’m able to break away.”

Elora watches my mouth closely as I speak to her. The sensuality of what she has going on draws me in like a magnet.

Fuck.

“I’m good, Mikkel. Go take care of your business.”

I give her hand a light squeeze, reluctantly let go, and make my way through the bursting crowd to the side opening of the heaving bar.

This should be an interesting night.

* * *

The mesmerizing blonde leans in to ask me, “
Snakker du Norsk
?”

“Um, I’m sorry, I’ve started to learn Norwegian, but I’ve only recently arrived here. Unfortunately I don’t speak the language just yet.”

She smiles brightly and pulls out the adjoining dark leather bucket seat barstool. Her chiming voice cuts through the music, “No worries. I speak English. Come, have a seat here with me.”

I hop up onto the tall barstool beside her and curiously have a look around. I quickly decide that it’s best to keep my purse in my lap. I can’t seem to locate one of those cute purse hooks anywhere.
Ah, biker bar. Remember, Elora?

“So, you and Mikkel are cousins?”

“Yes. First, actually. My mother and Mikkel’s father are siblings.”

I’m having a horrid time focusing on what she’s saying because my eyes are busy drinking her in. She makes ‘gorgeous’ seem like a sad, tired word. Shimmering blond hair cascades in waves a few inches past her bare shoulders. Cool blue eyes tilt up at the edges. She’s quite tan, nearly glowing with a healthy coloring. My eyes drop lower to admire her sexy, red silky blouse that melds effortlessly to her frame along with her fitted, sexy jeans.
Quality.

I watch as she unconsciously twines a strand of her golden hair around her index finger.

“So, how long have you been in Oslo then, Elora?”

“Merely two weeks. My brother Alexander works here. He’s allowing me to stay with him at his flat in the City Centre.”

“That’s cool. I live there as well. Would you care for a drink?”

“Sure, that would be lovely.”

“What’s your preference? They stock most everything, but I would seriously avoid asking for anything too complex or girlie.” She leans back and with a smile unravels a strand from her finger and sweeps her hand out. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I get it. How about an Absolut Citron on the rocks?”

“Easy enough. I see he has that. Hold on a sec.”

She stands halfway up onto the rung of her stool and leans into the bar. “Oh Mikkel, darling cousin, a round for the ladies, please?”

I lean in slightly to see him slinging drinks at the end of the long, black granite bar. He moves with such ease, graceful despite his massive frame. He places two frothy, overflowing mugs of beer onto the bar and turns to grab a towel to wipe his hands as he closes the fifteen feet between us in a few strides.

“What’s it gonna be, Lisetta?”

“Two Absolut Citrons for my new friend and me. Oh, and a touch of fruit as well if you have it.”

He nods once and turns to grab two glass tumblers from the drying mat on the back counter.

She sits back down and leans close to me. “So, I can’t resist asking, how did you two meet?”

“I was stranded on the side of the E18 motorway last evening. He came to my rescue.” I grin sheepishly.

Her eyes twinkle as she asks, “Did he now? That sounds like him, rescuing a damsel in distress.”

“Does it? How so?”

“Since we were children, Mikkel has always been the fixer, making certain that everything is straight and on track. He’s an amazing guy, actually.”

I ponder her statement as Mikkel places the drinks down in front of us. Planting both large hands wide on the granite, he leans in and murmurs, “Enjoy.”

“Thank you,” I reply, once again lost in the burning intensity of his sensual eyes.

I lift my glass to turn and toast my new acquaintance. She’s sitting very still, watching me carefully.

I ask, “Is everything all right?”

A lazy smile forms on her glossy lips. “Oh yes. Perfectly all right.” She lifts her glass. “To fun-filled fall nights.
Skål!
”

“Agreed.
Skål!
”

We clink glasses. After taking a sip of my zesty cocktail, I confess, “You know that was my very first toast here in Norway.”

“I know that it’s the first of many yet to come. You know, Elora, my best friend is foreign as well. American, actually. Her name’s Vail. I miss her desperately, so having girlie company is quite nice. Speaking English with you reminds me of hanging out with her.”

“Where does your friend live?”

“In California. I saw her not long ago at the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. Have you heard if it? It’s in a state called South Dakota, up near Canada. An amazing scene. That place sets the bar for wild.”

I shake my head as she continues on. “Anyhow, she’s engaged to Mikkel’s best friend Alreck. He moved to America to be with her. He had to go. He would’ve been destroyed without her. The love those two share is something amazing. The real deal, to put it mildly.”

“Sounds romantic, like something that only happens in movies. Perhaps you’ll have a chance to go over for the wedding, then?”

She grins. “Actually, they’re considering coming here for the ceremony. I can’t wait!”

“Wonderful news. And when will that be?”

“They haven’t set a date yet, but I hope it won’t be too long. I can’t wait to see her again.”

I give her an understanding look before saying, “Yes, quality mates are rare.”

She leans in and asks in a mischievous tone, “So, ask away. What do you want to know about him? Don’t be shy. We’ll keep this little conversation between us girls.”

I take another deep drink of the chilled vodka, hoping for a touch of added confidence, and go for it. “Well then, for starters, how old is he?”

“Thirty-six. And you?”

“I’m twenty-eight.”

“Did you know that he’s the president of Devil’s Wrath?”

What?

Pointing a finger at the ground, I blink and stammer out, “The president … of
this
motorcycle club?”

She smiles proudly. “You know it, and a fiercely awesome one at that.”

I study him from a distance. He is the most alpha man I’ve ever crossed paths with, so I can certainly see how he could be the club’s president.

I turn to her, catching a hint of her light floral scent. “All right then, what else?”

She giggles, “Hmm, let’s see, he’s über-private. He loves to cook. Has a serious passion for motorcycles that everyone in our conservative family tries desperately to understand. Oh, and he has a very dark sense of humor. He’s fabulous, and the best cousin a girl could hope for. Oh, I will say that I would never want to see him pissed off, though.”

“Really?”

She levels me with a serious look. “Yes, really. Can you imagine all that intensity consolidated into one lethal blow? But you have absolutely nothing to worry about. First and foremost, Mikkel is one hundred percent a gentleman. He treats his mother with the utmost respect and I’ve never heard him raise his voice to a woman, ever.”

I hesitate a moment before deciding to go for it, asking her quietly, “He’s single then?”

She seems pleased by my question. “Oh yes, and in my humble opinion, quite a hot catch.”

Is she ever right on point with that one ….

I hold her bright gaze for a moment before taking another sip of my drink.

“I see that you’re also engaged, then?” I nod at her hand. “That’s a stunning ring, Lisetta.”

She flushes prettily. “Thank you. Bern is my fiancée. He’s just over there.”

She leans back and dips her chin slightly as I follow her gaze. “See the gorgeous stud with the blond hair and the beer in his left hand, talking to that group of three guys closest to the door?”

I see him and immediately recognize him as the guy driving the wrecker last night. He’s laughing full out at something his companion just said. I watch him closely and note that he’s maybe twenty-five or so, and the epitome of Nordic hotness. His wide shoulders look honed and strong, like a boxer’s.

Lisetta says, “He works with Mikkel. They design motorcycles together at Heavy’s. They’re both unbelievably talented, and lucky for me, they both know how to work on cars as well.”

“Do they now?” I silently ponder if Mikkel might be the one working on the Jaguar for me
. How sweet of him.

“That’s right.”

“Bern’s supremely good looking. You both complement each other quite well, Lisetta.”

“You think?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. So, do you work?”

“I do. I’m the manager of a day spa in the City Centre. You really should come by sometime. We offer some unbelievable massages and facials.”

“Yes, I’ll have to get your information tonight. I would really love that.”

“Humor me for a second, Elora.”

Before I have a chance to ask her what she is on about, she leans forward once and calls out, “Mikkel, two Aquavit shots!”

Shots? Oh hell … It’s party time!

Three eye-watering shots and two more Absoluts later I find myself on the dance floor with Lisetta. “Everlong” by The Foo Fighters is pounding away, played in a supremely wicked fashion by the twenty-something rockers onstage. The more I drink, the finer they sound.

Mikkel secured my jacket and handbag behind the bar for me, and now Lisetta and I are in the midst of a crowd of at least thirty people swaying and dancing together.

She has to get close, pressing into me, nearly shouting so I can hear her. “Are you having fun, Elora?”

I touch her shoulder and yell, “Brilliant, Lisetta!”

“Awesome! Glad to hear it. Stay right here and dance. I need to use the restroom. I won’t be but one minute.” Her blond brows draw together. “Wait, unless you’d like to come as well?”

I shake my head, “Nah, I adore this song. I’ll be fine. See you in a few.”

Mikkel’s not but twenty feet away tending bar should I need his help.

In my tipsy state I vaguely register her making her way back through the crowd toward a back wall
. I hope she won’t be long.

The band is in full force, driving the crowd into a near frenzy with their spot-on guitar riffs and wild drumming. It really is a bonus that the lead singer is gorgeous, if not rough, with a myriad of visible, menacing tattoos peeking out from his midnight colored Motorhead tee. And those are just the ones I can see.

I try to rise up on my tiptoes to spot Mikkel. I assume he’s still tending bar, but with all the bodies packed so tightly together on the dance floor, I’m having a tough time seeing anything other than those around me. I decided early on that the vibe at the party was quite friendly, with everyone cheering and toasting in boisterous revelry. I can’t recall the last time that I felt so … alive.

A light brush of a body sweeps against my backside. I turn about quickly, hoping that Mikkel has taken a break and is ready to have some fun with me.
I’m so very wrong.
Staring down at me is a gigantic, twenty-something biker. Shaved head, imposing tribal tattoo winding up around his thick neck, and a jet-black tee that reads in bright red lettering, straight across his tremendous chest, ‘Menace to Sobriety.’ I swallow.
Hard.