What Were You Expecting? (23 page)

Beck looked at Maggie carefully for a moment, searching her face before looking away. He took a bite of the scone then looked up and grinned. “Good batch.”

She let her fingers unfurl, won over by his compliment. “I used coconut oil.”

“Whatever you’re doing,” said Beck, his eyes holding hers tenderly, “keep doing it. It’s certainly working for me.”

She reached forward to dust a crumb off the corner of his mouth and he stilled, but she heard his breathing more pronounced on the exhale, as though he’d been holding his breath while she touched him.

His longing for her passed across his handsome face and it made her wince. “Beck, I—”

Beck shook his head, like he was shaking the moment away, and looked down at his plate. “It’s okay, Maggie Leslie. We’re just getting to know each other, right? You haven’t made me any promises.”

His goodness moved her, as it always did, but she stopped herself from reaching out to touch his hand. She was careful not to lead him on. “You’re so kind to me, Beck. I dinna deserve it.”

“Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I keep hoping that if I stick around long enough, I’ll wear you down.”

“Well, you never know,” said Maggie in a sing-song voice, giving him a playful smile.

“You mean that?” His face was serious, his voice low.

Her cheeks flushed when she looked at his face. Somehow their conversation had taken an unexpectedly serious turn. “I canna predict the future, Beck…”

He tilted his head to the side, as if seeing something important for the first time and wanting to examine the details of it. “But, you’re not…
against
it? Me? Us?”

“I’m just not ready to jump into anythin’, as you know. But,
against
it? No, Beck. I’m not against it. If it happens…someday.”

“Maggie,” he said tenderly, staring at her for a long, intense moment before his face brightened. “You give me hope.”

Without warning, he leaned over the bar to press his lips against hers. Just a soft touch. She closed her eyes, willing her body to feel something, desperate to want this good man who could offer her love and security. But the familiar emptiness washed over her as he pulled back. She opened her eyes to look at him, and his brows furrowed.

She knew he could see it all over her face—the disappointment, the fizzle.

He turned his attention back to his scone and took another bite as she finished wiping down the counter in awkward silence. “Oh, I almost forgot…” He turned around and rifled through the messenger bag he’d hung behind him on the back of the chair. “This came today. Must have sent it to me because of the return address. I think it might be your temporary papers.”

He slid a white envelope across the bar to her, his eyes bright with anticipation.

Maggie picked up the envelope and looked at it. The last time she’d received a letter from USCIS it had informed her that her visa was expired and used words like “deportation” and “Homeland Security.” Of course Nils had been with her and his sturdy, calming, supportive presence had made everything better. She couldn’t help the butterflies that flapped their tiny wings nervously against the walls of her belly. She pushed it back toward Beck.

“You open it. I’ll refresh your coffee.”

“Scaredy cat.” He took his unused knife from beside his plate and made a slit in the top of the letter, then withdrew it and unfolded it. Maggie poured his coffee, watching his face. His brows quickly furrowed together and he swore softly. “No. No, no, no.
Damn
it.”

“What does it say?”

“I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m so damned sorry.” He placed the letter on the bar and turned it to face her. “You’ve been flagged.”

***

Nils had to admit it, as much as he loved Yellowstone, he’d had just about enough after almost a month away from home. Today was Saturday and that meant that four weeks had somehow come and gone. He looked around at their last campsite. Only three more tents to put away and then he’d go find them down by the river where his customers were spending their last morning fishing. He’d be back in Gardiner by dinnertime.

The McCarthy group was made up of five retired couples who’d ventured north from a tony neighborhood in Scottsdale to immerse themselves in the wonders of Yellowstone for four straight weeks. And Nils could verify it: they’d seen just about everything. They’d fished and hiked, cooked over an open fire and slept under the stars. They’d seen all the wildlife the park could offer, done some horseback riding and spent a few luxury days at one of the resorts. Of the twelve campgrounds in Yellowstone, they’d spent four nights in six, plus three nights at the Lake Yellowstone Hotel about a week ago, which was the last time Nils had enjoyed reliable wi-fi. The first thing he’d done after settling the folks into their accommodations was check his phone. He’d scrolled through quickly to find emails waiting from his father and Lars, Erik and Jenny and Paul.

He had no right to the disappointment that washed over him as he realized there was no message from Maggie. He hadn’t really expected one, had he? He certainly didn’t deserve one.

He collapsed the second-to-last tent, put the sticks in the drawstring bag and rolled the nylon into a tight ball. They’d be headed back to Gardiner tonight and Nils couldn’t wait to sleep in his own bed again, take hot showers every day and cook his food on a stove. He’d grown a wild and wooly beard that he’d shave off first thing, before heading into town to see his father and Lars, and…and…

Maggie. Maggie again. Always,
always
, his mind circled back to Maggie in a never-ending loop of longing. He had been sure that four weeks away from her would cool his feelings. It turned out he was wrong. If anything, he missed her with such a gnawing, all-consuming ache, it amazed him every day that he didn’t abandon the McCarthys and their friends and zoom back to Gardiner to beg her forgiveness. But even as his feelings for her grew stronger and stronger, he knew the chances of her forgiving him when he’d ditched her after a kiss like that, were—in her words—
not bloody likely.

That kiss was seared on his brain and while he was away from her, it had been his constant companion. He’d relived every detail, examined every nuance of how she felt in his arms, pressed up against him, moving her sex against his, sucking his tongue as her nipples beaded into little pebbles. He wondered how she would have tasted if Jenny hadn’t interrupted them—would her skin have been as sweet as her lips?—and every night he dreamed of her. He dreamed of how she’d look as he thrust into her waiting warmth, moving slowly, stroking her, teasing her, taking his time giving her pleasure and finally feeling the walls of her sex clench around him like a vise as she cried out his name in surrender.

He woke up sweating and rock-hard every morning, jumping into whatever lake or river was nearby to assuage the effects of his dreaming before his clients woke up. But every night she returned to tease and taunt him, as he fell asleep to the memory of her eyes, dilated and tender, as his sister waited at the front door.

More than anything, Nils regretted the hasty choice he’d made that night. He’d destroyed their friendship by kissing her and any chance of a relationship by leaving her. Despite the fact that he didn’t deserve her, he
wanted
her and the only thing he’d ever see in her eyes again was scorn.

Which sucked, because for the first time years the high walls that Nils had kept between him and Maggie seemed to be crumbling. He couldn’t fight or deny his feelings for her anymore. That kiss had shredded the last of his self-control and there’s no way he’d be able to be around her anymore without reaching for her, touching her, wanting her. As far as he could tell, he had two choices: leave Gardiner or try to figure out a way to be with her. And most days that’s where his thoughts ended, since he couldn’t conceive of leaving his home, and as much as he wanted to be with Maggie, he wasn’t quite ready to figure out how. He’d have to offer her a commitment. And when you’re already married and one of you loves children, that’s where the commitment would invariably lead. Somewhere he couldn’t go.

He rolled up the last tent and stuffed it into the corresponding nylon bag, then hopped up on the roof of the van to finish repacking the roof pack. The sun beat down on his face and he glanced down at his arms, five shades darker than he’d been when he left. And he was leaner, too. He’d probably gained five more pounds worth of muscle since June. He could feel it on his body, hard and tough, and he didn’t need it, but it still felt good.

He moved some of the camping equipment around and managed to stuff all of the tents into the corners of the pack, finally zipping it completely before sliding down the windshield to sit on the hood of the van for a few minutes. He was ready to go, but he may as well give the McCarthys a bit more time before they’d have to say good-bye to Yellowstone. Before he had to return to his real life.

Even with so much time for thinking, it still surprised him that Maggie hadn’t been the only woman on his mind. As though a floodgate had been inadvertently opened, for the first time in years, he allowed himself to remember Veronica, to think about her not just as a victim, but as the girl who he’d loved so desperately. It was strange to find how vividly his memories had been preserved, and it was a revelation to find that some of them—most of them, in fact, aside from the final few—were good. Really good. He’d almost forgotten how they’d met, how the pretty redhead had teased him mercilessly in biology for three weeks, finally asking him out over a frog dissection.

“Nils Lindstrom,” she’d said softly, wearing light green plastic goggles that deepened her dark green eyes. “I get the feeling that if
I
don’t ask
you
, we’re never going to get this show on the road.”

His stomach had leapt as he realized the possible meaning behind her words. “What show?”

“The Nils and Veronica show.”

“Oh.” Shyer-than-shy Nils Lindstrom noticed pretty girls, of course, but hadn’t quite mustered the courage to ask one out yet. He hung back, playing sports and drinking beers with his buddies on the weekends. Asking a girl out on a date made him feel dizzy and terrified. It wasn’t that he hadn’t fantasized. He did, of course. Daily. And mostly about Veronica Olsen, the pretty transfer student spending her senior year in Gardiner with her aunt while her single mother completed a one-year tour in Afghanistan.

“So, what do you say?” She’d put her hands on her tiny hips and looked up at him, giggling as she pointed to her goggles. “You can’t say no to
this
, can you?”

As far as Nils was concerned, Veronica Olsen in light green biology goggles was the loveliest thing Gardiner High School could ever offer. He stared at her, shaking his head back and forth lightly.

“Nope,” he’d muttered as his stomach flipped over and a wave of anticipation and lust washed over him. “I can’t say no.”

She’d giggled again and he’d carried her books after class, spending every waking moment falling in love with her until the Christmas formal.

It was no wonder his face had collapsed when Maggie showed him the photo of him and Veronica from that night.
That
night. The night they’d lost their virginity to one another.

They’d agreed to get a motel room, even ditching the dance early because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, couldn’t wait to consummate their love. They’d undressed slowly, both of them aware of the gravity of their decision, then kissed and touched each other, whispering confident, tender I love yous as they fell back upon the motel room bed.

The act itself—which didn’t have the finesse of subsequent encounters—had been perfect in its own way: an act of innocence, an act of love. He’d come too quickly, she’d bled a little, and they realized way too late that they’d forgotten to bring the box of condoms that Nils had dutifully purchased the day before. But with the foolish invincibility of horny teenagers in love, they’d spent the rest of the night making love to each other, insatiable, irresponsible. Over the ensuing weeks, they found every possible way to be together, sneaking into bedroom windows, making out in the flatbed of his father’s truck and under the bleachers at school, even in a tent overlooking the Yellowstone River during one memorable weekend in the park. And they’d always been careful, using condoms after that first night, not that it made any difference by then.

A hawk cried loudly overhead and Nils took his phone out of his back pocket. 1:00 p.m. He slid off the hood of the van and stretched, then headed toward the river. It was three hours back to Gardiner. At least. They should get a move on.

As he walked purposely toward the river, he let himself savor the good memories for another moment, remembering her hair spread out over him and the pillow beneath him, the touch of her innocent hands on his untried body, the way she’d murmur his name as her body clamped and shuddered around him. It was a relief to remember the months of good times they’d shared after so many years of only recalling the bitter end.

Nils felt like he was finally saying good-bye to Veronica, like maybe he’d be able to heal and move on. Maybe he’d even know that sort of love and completeness in his life again.