What Were You Expecting? (19 page)

She swallowed, feeling eyes on her. When she looked up, Paul and Lars stared at her from across the table. She nestled a little closer to Beck in response to their censure and her heart jumped a touch when his fingers curled over her shoulder with a tiny bit of pressure. He was so kind to her, so reassuring. With a full belly and a slight buzz from the three or four beers it had taken for her to loosen up, she almost felt cozy enough to close her eyes.

Except the bright lights of an approaching van made them open just a little bit wider as her heart dove, danced, somersaulted, and cheered, pumping faster and faster as she realized that Nils had finally arrived. Her lips tilted up and she lifted her head from Beck’s shoulder, taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter.
He’s here! He’s here
, cried her heart in glee, and she had to place her hands on her knees to keep herself from standing up and running to his side.

Mr. Lindstrom and Lars leapt up as the headlights brightened the party then released it back to darkness. Maggie watched as Nils swung his body out of the driver’s side door, accepting a hug from his father first, then his brother. The three men talked by the side of the van for a moment, and Maggie strained her ears to distinguish Nils’s voice from his father and brother, her eyes riveted on his tall, solid body as he finally headed toward the table in the dusky light. His jeans looked rumpled and worn and she could tell that his white
Lindstrom & Sons
polo shirt was covered with dust. Muscles deep inside of her body clenched with longing, her shower fantasy running through her mind like a tease. And then—suddenly—there he was, sitting down at the table where his brother had been sitting diagonally across from her, tilting back a bottle of beer as Mr. Lindstrom handed him a clean plate.

He thanked his father over his shoulder, then, starting at the end of the table he carefully scanned the guests in the flickering candlelight until his eyes found and rested on Maggie, where they stopped. Where they stayed.

His lips parted slightly, softly, as he stared at her, first her eyes, then dropping to her lips, then his gaze dipped lower to the low scoop neck of her Swedish blouse, one that Jenny had given to her years ago for her first
Midsommardagen
dinner with the Lindstroms. Maggie’s heart pounded like a tribal drum, flushing her face with arousal as she stared back at him. His face was tan and rugged after two straight days in the park, and his almost-white blond hair seemed slightly redder from trail dust. His white teeth peeked through the pillows of his lips as he grinned at her, and without meaning to, she smiled back, her fingers reaching up to brush over her lips, seeking the imprint of their wedding kiss. His wide blue eyes stayed fastened on hers as he picked up his beer and tipped it back, and she watched, transfixed, as his throat worked to swallow it, the taut, corded muscles clenching and relaxing.

As he put the beer back down on the table, something in his face changed. His smoldering eyes narrowed and shifted to her shoulder, lingering there for an extra moment before whipping his face back to hers, an angry question furrowing his brows.

“How was the tour, Nils?” asked Beck from beside her, his hand massaging her shoulder gently.

Maggie’s eyes widened in realization—Good God, she’d forgotten that Beck had his arm around her!—and it was like watching a spell break and shatter before her eyes. Nils’s eyes shuddered closed before her and he looked down at his plate, reaching for a platter to fill it.

***

“It was fine,” he muttered, but his stomach was churning. Even as he’d left them alone in the café on Thursday night, he was wholly unprepared to see them together, Beck’s arm around her like they were a couple, like they were out on a date, which he guessed they were.

Nils took a deep breath and reached for the smoked salmon, his voracious appetite ebbing away as the ache in his heart slowed the galloping excitement that had started the moment his eyes had landed on her face.

He couldn’t help his kneejerk reaction, but he tried to reason with himself and calm down.
It’s for the best. It’s for the best. If you can’t give her happiness, let someone else try.

He spooned some of the salmon onto his plate and when he replaced the dish, Paul was nudging him with a platter of grilled meats. “What else do you want, Nils?”

Maggie. I want Maggie. That’s all I want.
The words swam aimlessly, fruitlessly in his head and he couldn’t even look up at Paul, quietly picking a few things off the platter that plopped inelegantly onto his plate.

“Can you pass that cheese plate down here?” asked Paul, swapping out the meats for the cheeses.

In a matter of seconds Nils’s plate was piled with his favorite Swedish foods, some of which he waited for all year, but his mouth tasted like sawdust and his appetite was gone. He took another swig of beer and looked up again to find the two spaces that Maggie and Beck had occupied were vacant now. He twisted his neck toward the fire and caught them walking—with Beck’s goddamned arm still around her shoulders—toward the fire ring where the flames licked the sky and sparks dotted the landscape like low-hanging stars.

“She showed up with him,” Paul offered softly.

Nils tucked into the plate of food, barely tasting anything.

“Have they kissed?” he demanded in a low, anguished whisper without thinking. He had no idea what made him ask this question, and suddenly he wasn’t even sure he wanted an answer. He didn’t trust himself not to rush Beck and beat him bloody if the answer was “yes.”

“No,” said Paul. “Not that I’ve seen.”

His shoulders relaxed and he took another bite of food then pushed the plate away. “I’m taking a shower if Pop asks for me.”

Paul nodded as Nils swung his body out of the bench, grabbing his beer and casting one last look at Maggie and Beck sitting side by side on a blanket by the fire.

Good
, he thought, clenching his jaw so tightly it made his head ache.
Beck’ll be good for Maggie.
He stalked toward the front porch of his father’s house, his boots pounding loudly against the three steps.
This is what I wanted, right?

He practically ripped the screen door off its hinges opening it. It slammed the porch wall then whipped back to slap the doorframe as he beelined through his father’s living room to the stairs. He took them two at a time, turning right to the room he had shared with Lars and Erik growing up. He and Lars both kept a change of clothes at their father’s house, and he yanked the dresser drawer open, grabbing clean jeans, boxer shorts and an old navy blue and orange t-shirt that read “Go Broncos!”

It was only then that he noticed his hands were shaking. He backed up against the bed, tugging his dirty polo shirt over his head, then bent his neck, his palm coming up to rest on his forehead as his elbow braced on his thigh.

“Fuck,” he snarled softly, rubbing his forehead as though he could erase the image of Beck’s arm around Maggie’s shoulders.

***

Maggie’s heart felt brick heavy sitting next to Beck by the bonfire. He was trying his best to make conversation with her, but it was no use. She could barely give him monosyllabic answers. To see Nils’s face—full of unguarded joy and hope to see her—slip into cold darkness on a dime had taken all of the fun out of the celebration and all she wanted to do was go home.

He had practically
thrown
her at Beck on Thursday night, yet tonight he’d looked almost murderous at the sight of Beck’s hand on her shoulder. He was hot and cold, attracted to her, yet keeping her at arm’s length. She didn’t understand him and she’d had just about enough of his mind games. And mostly, she just wanted to go home. Her eyes welled with tears of frustration and sorrow. She swiped at them then pushed up from the blanket. “Beck, do you mind if we get goin’?”

He stood up beside her, dusting off his hands on his pants. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The lump in her throat was so thick, she worried she’d cry when she said good-bye to Mr. Lindstrom and Lars, but she couldn’t very well leave such a nice dinner without saying thank you.

“I’m just goin’ to go inside and use the bathroom first,” she said.

I’ll splash some cold water on my face, give myself a firm talking-to, then come downstairs and say my good-byes.
She looked over at the long table that sat mostly in darkness, lined with dinner guests. Nils would still be eating his dinner. She took a deep breath and turned toward the house. Stomping up the steps, she opened the screen door too forcefully and it slapped against the wall of the porch then flew back and slammed shut.

Calm down, Maggie.

Rubbing her burning eyes, she walked quietly through the living room and dining room, to the stairs beside the kitchen. As she headed upstairs, she looked at the pictures on the wall: Nils and Lars grinning in snowsuits with goggles perched atop their blond heads; all four Lindstrom children sitting on a boulder somewhere in Yellowstone; Jenny on her wedding day, Erik on his. About two steps from the top, she reached out and gingerly touched a photo of Nils holding Erin against his chest as he sat in a recliner, his eyes closed as the tiny infant dozed.

“You came here with Beck.”

She looked up to see Nils standing at the top of the stairs. And,
OH. MY. GOD
. Her eyes widened painfully and her jaw went slack. His chest was bare and his jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped to reveal the plaid cotton of his underwear beneath. Her mind went utterly blank as she stared at the V of exposed muscle that tapered from his waist to his hips, pointing effortlessly to his—

A small sound escaped from her throat and she bit her lip, forcing herself to look away. Flicking her eyes up to his face, she felt herself exhale, the first indication that she’d been holding her breath as she ogled him like a stripper. She must have swayed, because his free hand snaked out to grab her wrist, tugging her gently up the remaining steps until they stood facing each other in the dim light of the upstairs hallway.

“You brought Beck to
Midsommardagen
.”

She could barely breathe, but her spirit rallied to put together a response. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His fingers tightened around her wrist as he stared at her, and she wished she could still the wild fluttering of her heart, but she was surrounded by him—he smelled of sweat and sun and fresh air. She dropped her eyes to the solid wall of his chest, tan and smooth, his nipples prominent and hard against the contour of muscle. She was surprised to see two crosses—one slightly larger than the other—tattooed over his heart with the date 2001, and she longed to know the story behind them, to reach out and trace the shape of it, to press her lips to it and rest her head against it so that his heart could beat under her ear. His thumb stroked the soft skin inside of her wrist and when she glanced down at his fingers against her skin, she noticed the red dust of the trail on his corded forearms. She licked her lips and her insides leapt with want, as her fantasy cycled through her mind, coming to life before her in startlingly beautiful detail.

When she looked up at his face, his eyes searched hers, his lips pursed into a tense line. And then his head was bending softly toward hers, his lips closer and closer.

“Nils,” she sighed, stepping closer to him, ready to fall into him, to wrap her arms around him and succumb totally to whatever he could offer, whatever he was able to give.

But, at the sound of her voice, he froze, his eyes refocusing on her face as he drew back with a grimace.

“I never wanted any of this,” he choked out in an angry, tortured voice. “None of it.”

“Any of what?” she asked in a whisper, stepping toward him again, her breasts brushing his chest through the thin linen of her blouse, her neck tilted back to hold his eyes, daring him to finish what he’d almost started.

He winced and then shook his head, releasing her wrist like he was surprised to find he was holding it. He swallowed, staring at her for one more second before stepping around her to walk into the bathroom and close the door behind him with a decisive click.

Maggie raised her hands to her flaming cheeks, rooted in place, her brain overloaded by the image of half-naked Nils holding her wrist. He’d almost kissed her. This time she was sure of it.
What did it mean?
He pushed her into Beck, but fought his will to kiss her. She touched her wrist gently with the fingers of her other hand, as one thought circled relentlessly in her head:
How much more will it take for you to surrender to me?

Chapter 10

After their electric meeting in Mr. Lindstrom’s upstairs hallway, Maggie had to admit, she was both excited and apprehensive about seeing Nils again. Excited because she felt him caving to his attraction to her, apprehensive because she knew if he did, they’d have a whole new set of problems to solve together.

That there was scorching chemistry between them was undeniable. Ever since the morning after he’d helped her to bed, she’d felt it. It had only increased through his offer to marry her, taking their wedding vows and working together on his father’s party. Every time they were near each other, they practically set off sparks from the strength of their attraction.