“I should—” he started.
“Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it,” she said, keeping her voice in polite mode. “Thanks for taking me to the party, it was brilliant. Thanks so much. Goodnight.”
Was that a hint of regret she saw in his face as she closed the door? She leaned against it on the other side. He should regret it. Maybe she was just another volunteer who liked him too much—but he wouldn’t be getting that chance again. She was here for business, not pleasure.
But a little voice crept into her head. That kiss hadn’t felt like she was just another person. It felt like…something. She clunked her forehead against the door, wishing she hadn’t even gone there.
“It was just the akvavit,” she told the voice firmly, loud enough to banish it.
On the other side of the door, she heard footsteps walking away. Oh, hell. He must have been standing right there.
Was he about to knock on the door and…what?
Maybe she wouldn’t be getting another chance either—whether she wanted it or not.
Twelve
Ugh. Akvavit.
Zoe raised herself on one elbow and gave her head a tentative shake. Yep, it ached. She sat up slowly. It wasn’t pretty…but then again, it wasn’t the brain-rattler of a hangover she’d expected, considering how much she’d had to drink. Maybe she was making progress towards becoming a Swede after all.
As the events of the night came back to her, though, she started to feel less positive. No luck with Alvar on the Claire question. And then just enough luck with Jakob—oh, that kiss—to leave her let down, when he basically turned her down.
Stupid scary wolves.
She waited until it was almost completely light before walking up to the lodge, one cautious eye on the landscape around her, at the same time trying not to look in the direction of Jakob’s cabin. She hadn’t figured out what she’d say when she saw him. Her fingers were freezing, and she wished she’d brought more than one pair of gloves. Maybe there were spares at the guesthouse.
She took her boots off in the wet room and went in search of Greta. She was in the office, in a state of excitement. She and Bengt hadn’t heard the wolves the night before, but Jakob had already been in and told her about it.
“I’ll come with you this morning and look for more tracks,” she said, getting her camera from her desk drawer. “It’s lucky there was no snow last night.”
Jakob and the weather man had been right after all. Zoe felt a wave of relief at the thought of having Greta’s company out in the forest, but kept her voice casual. “Okay.” The noisy snowmobile would most likely scare any wolves off, but it would be nice to have someone there, all the same.
“Let’s do the other jobs later,” Greta added. “I think Stina will be late this morning, after the party. Did you enjoy it?”
“I did, thank you.”
“And did Jakob take care of you?”
Her cheeks suddenly felt hot, and she bent to adjust her jeans where they were tucked into her thick socks. “Yes, it was all good. Fine. Good.”
She stood back up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as Greta looked at her.
“That’s good,” she said. The phone started to ring, and Zoe caught a sort of knowing in her smile before she turned to answer it. “Have a coffee if you like, then we’ll go.”
She’d already had coffee this morning, but she scuttled out of the office, along to the big guesthouse kitchen. As she poured a cup of Greta’s muscular brew, she shook her head. What kind of PR person was she if she couldn’t keep a neutral expression while answering the simplest questions? Her mother would be shaking her head if she knew.
She added milk, and stirred thoughtfully. Well, she never had fit into that world anyway, and honestly, she probably never would. She put the carton of milk back into the fridge, alongside the filmjölk. The slightly zingy stuff was supposedly an acquired taste—which she seemed to have acquired already. Between the filmjölk, akvavit, snowmobile driving, ice skating, and her new fika skills, she was making impressive progress towards Swedish-ness. Out of all the places she’d been in the world, she felt surprisingly at home up here.
Ironic, considering that this was the one place she couldn’t stay.
The sun was over the trees by the time Greta led the way through on her snowmobile, breaking the morning quiet. Zoe followed on her own machine, wearing borrowed gloves, confident now in her driving after the days of practice she’d had. She still itched to run riot, and have some high-powered fun, but she stuck to the straight and narrow…and slow.
Every so often, Greta held up her arm, then stopped and scanned the snowy ground, but there was no evidence of wolf tracks along the route they took. And at the nest site, there was still no sign of the golden eagles setting up house. Zoe was relieved about the first, but disappointed at the second.
“Do you think they’ll come soon?” she asked Greta, as they got back on the snowmobiles.
“I hope so,” she replied. “But they might not use one of these nests. Maybe home is somewhere else this year.”
The words resonated in her head. Maybe home is somewhere else this year.
She’d lived that way herself, but could never get the hang of it.
“I don’t feel like I’m being very helpful, though, if there’s nothing to do with the birds.”
“You are.” Greta reached for the starter cord. “And anyway, I like your company.”
“Oh! Thank you. The feeling is totally mutual.”
Greta grinned in reply, and threw her leg over her snowmobile, as nimble as a woman half her age. Zoe followed her lead, and they headed back.
Outside the volunteer office, she hesitated, knowing that Jakob might be there…but he wasn’t. Seesawing between relief and disappointment, she entered the weather data and noted the non-appearance of the eagles, then went to help Greta with the other jobs. By the time she’d also helped a headachy and droopily tragic Stina clean the rooms, she was feeling wrecked herself. So after lunch, she decided to go back to her cabin and try—again—to find any trace of Claire online. And maybe have a nap. She pushed aside the nagging knowledge that she hadn’t done anything about the undercover Vertex mission yet. But there was plenty of time. Plenty.
She glanced at Jakob’s cabin as she went up the steps to her own. He was probably out scouring the woods for wolfish evidence. Inside, she tucked the gloves in her pockets, pulled off her coat and boots, and padded towards the bedroom, yawning. It would have to be sleep first. After that, with a clear head, she could start on Claire. So far, she’d been playing as hard to get as the eagles. It was warm enough inside the cabin that she pulled off her jumper and got into bed in leggings and a t-shirt. Bliss…
Hazy sleep had only just claimed her when there was a knock on the door. She jolted upright, disoriented.
The visitor knocked again, firm and steady.
Oh hell…was it Jakob? She jumped out of bed, ran her fingers through her hair, swiped under each eye in case her mascara had smudged, and straightened her t-shirt. That would have to do. She’d probably looked just as rumpled by the end of last night anyway. She opened the door.
“Hej, Zoe.”
Oh. Not Jakob.
“Hi, Fredrik.”
If she looked disappointed, he didn’t let it faze him. “I brought your gloves back,” he said, holding them up triumphantly.
“Oh, okay…” He came all the way for that? As she took them, she kept a safe distance—she wouldn’t risk a repeat of last night’s near miss. All the same, she tried to look suitably grateful. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So…I was just having a nap.” She maintained a neutral expression, not wanting to seem rude, but hoping he’d take the extremely large hint and go.
He didn’t.
Instead, he peered past her into the cabin. “Ah. Did you enjoy the party?” he asked.
“Yes, I did.” Small talk, small talk. She dredged up some more manners
. “It was lovely thanks. What about you?”
“Yes, I enjoyed it. I’m sorry you had to leave so early.”
He managed to imply that he, Fredrik, was the hippest guy in Lillavik, while Jakob in comparison was a drag and a party pooper. It made her suddenly compelled to defend him.
“Well, it wasn’t really early. It was after midnight.”
He shrugged. “Was it?” Then he looked over her shoulder into the cabin again.
Oh, God. Fine. She gave in. “Would you like to come in?”
“Okay, yes, thank you,” he said, apparently terrifically surprised.
His acting was terrible. She stood to the side and let him come in.
“Coffee?”
He hung his coat on the hook by the door. “Excellent.”
The cabin felt small with six-foot-plus Fredrik inside. She sat cross-legged at one end of the sofa clutching her mug, while he relaxed with his arm across the sofa back, resting his coffee on his knee and chatting. Today, he was charming and pleasant instead of pushy and creepy, but her mind kept wandering…thinking about someone less convivial, but more compelling.
While Fredrik was in the middle of a story about robots and wombats and power-ups and experience points—all to do with the latest game they were developing—there was another knock at the door. It came as a relief. To be fair, she had asked him how his work was going, but since both he and Alvar had told her Claire had never worked there, she’d lost a bit of interest in Defrost Digital’s workings.
“Excuse me.” She stood up and put her mug on the coffee table, and went to open the door.
Jakob was standing on the porch, holding a pair of white ice skates.
“Hej,” he said. “I heard you might need these.”
“Oh…yes. I do.”
Such an out-of-the-blue gesture took her completely by surprise. She smiled at him. As they looked at each other, she had the feeling she wasn’t the only one thinking about last night’s kiss. The skates hung between them, a token of unspoken possibility.
Then he looked over her shoulder, and his face changed. She turned to see Fredrik standing behind her in a proprietorial way. Oh, shit. She’d forgotten he was there. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling the chill in her t-shirt.
All three of them stood in silence for what seemed like forever.
Hell, this was awkward. And cold. She wasn’t dressed for a showdown at the Iceberg Corral.
Finally, Fredrik spoke, but only to her. “Did you find your friend? Claire, was it? Claire Evans?”
She’d intended to keep her search for Claire a secret, as much as she could. Not because it was incriminating in any way, but because it seemed better to appear entirely focused on the volunteering. Also, it was probably safer not to put out any more personal information than necessary.
“That’s right,” she replied cautiously, aware that Jakob was suddenly intently focused on her.
“Yes, Claire Evans,” he said, nodding. “I thought so. No luck?”
She glanced at Jakob. She couldn’t exactly read his expression, but he wasn’t looking pleased.
“No, no luck,” she said.
Fredrik shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sure your friend Claire would want to see you.”
God, why wouldn’t he shut up about it? “It doesn’t matter really,” she said, even though it did.
Before he had the chance to say anything else, she decided to put an end to it—to that topic, and his visit.
“Well, I’m freezing.” She turned to Fredrik, who was looking smug. Instead of slapping him around the back of the head, as her fingers itched to do, she smiled ever so politely. “Thank you for coming and returning my gloves, Fredrik. I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.” She stood back, pointedly leaving room for him to go out.
He took his coat from the hook. But then he had to pass by Jakob, who suddenly seemed as immovable as one of the trees in the surrounding forest. They eyed each other like boxers about to go a round, then Fredrik looked back to Zoe.
“Yes. See you soon,” he said. Quick as a flash, he stepped closer and kissed her on the cheek, then turned and went down the steps and back up the path towards the lodge. Even from behind, there was a certain spring in his step that suggested he was pleased with himself.
Jakob narrowed his eyes as he watched him go. Then he passed her the skates.
“I hope you can use them. Greta said they were the right size.”
She started to say something, but he was already turning to go. Curse Fredrik for his crappy timing and his point-scoring kissing.
“Jakob, thank you so much. That’s really sweet.” Don’t go.
At the bottom of the steps, he shrugged. “You’re welcome.”
Then he walked away, back to his own cabin. For such a big guy, he had a stride as easy as one of his wolves, and he traversed the short distance in no time. The sound of his closing door echoed in the clearing.
She was left standing in her doorway with the ice skates, and a dose of goose-bumps and uncertainty. There went the second chance she wasn’t sure she’d get.
But…maybe it was for the best. After all, he had no idea why she was really here. She was almost starting to forget why herself. But this was her chance to prove something to The Shark, and to everyone else…and okay, to herself. And she didn’t want to mislead him any more than she had to. She liked him too much.
Third chances might be lucky, but the reality was, she’d be wiser to cut her losses and get her mind back on the job right now. She went inside, shutting her own door firmly behind her.
Thirteen
That night, she had dinner with Greta and Bengt. They’d promised her something special, something mycket svenskt—very Swedish. Remembering Jakob’s threats about rotten herring and goose-blood soup, she took her place at the table with trepidation. But as always, there were little touches that made her smile. Cloth napkins in heavy silver napkin rings, tealight candles in the ever-present glass snowballs, and ornate cutlery that Greta said had belonged to her grandmother.
They had mastered the art of making everyday things a little bit special.
Greta’s voice came from the kitchen. “Are you ready? Are you sitting down?”
“I’m ready,” she called back.
She and Bengt emerged from the kitchen, each one bearing a platter. Bengt set his down on the table with a flourish.
“Var så god!” he said.
Var så god, she now knew, meant to go ahead, help yourself, or you’re welcome. But what was she helping herself to? She looked at the dark, succulent roast meat. In true style, it had a small paper Swedish flag stuck in the top, as though a tiny mountain climber had claimed it for the kingdom of Lillavik.
“It looks very good,” she said. “What is it?”
“Ren,” he said, beaming.
“Ren?”
“Reindeer. My friend Svante hunted it a long way north of here.”
An image of Svante, dressed in camouflage gear and stalking Santa’s stables, flashed into her head. But Bengt looked so proud of his offering, she made an effort not to screw up her nose.
“Oh…reindeer.”
“You must try it,” Bengt insisted.
She arranged her face into a smile, and picked up her knife and fork.
Of course, it was delicious—rich, wild, and perfectly set off by Greta’s lingonberry sauce. Greta passed her a glass of red wine, and she sent a silent apology towards the north as she settled into her helping of Prancer, or Vixen, or one of their less fortunate cousins.
* * *
“So,” Greta said later as they washed the dishes. “Jakob came to ask me about something this morning.”
Zoe plunged the silverware into the sink. “Was it the ice skates?”
“So he did give them to you.”
“He did. Well, just to borrow, I’m sure. It was really nice of him.” She didn’t want to mention what had transpired between him and Fredrik.
Gre
ta was smiling. “Did he tell you who the skates belonged to?”
“No.”
“They were his mother’s.”
“Oh…wow.”
His mother’s skates. His mother’s sleigh.
“Yes. Brigitta. When she was young, she was a successful…what do you call it? Art skater?”
“Figure skater?” Zoe suggested.
“Yes, that’s it. She was amazing. She went to live in Stockholm for her training, and Alvar would go and visit her there. We were all surprised when she came back…until we found out she was expecting Jakob.”
Zoe thought back to the softness of the leather skates, and the elegance of their design. She’d thought they seemed especially nice—that explained it. Surely Jakob wouldn’t lend them lightly. She had to ask. “Does he usually lend them to people?”
Greta smiled again. “No. He does not. I think he likes you.” She gave a meaningful look, then went back to drying the cutlery, while Zoe blushed over the suds.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Anyway, I shouldn’t get distracted. I’m supposed to be working.” Doing what, she couldn’t tell Greta, but it was more than the volunteer work stopping her from going there with Jakob.
“Are you thinking we would disapprove about the sex?”
Zoe burst out in shocked laughter. “The…oh, no. I…” She wanted to dive under the bubbles and disappear. Of course, that was exactly what she’d been thinking about lately. Well, not the disapproval, but the sex part.
Greta laughed mischievously, obviously having fun stirring things up. “You know, we are realistic in Sweden. If you like each other, you’re allowed to do it.”
“Well…I don’t think…” She scrubbed at a stubborn spot on one of the pots, the heat in her cheeks matching the scalding dishwater. How embarrassing.
Greta shrugged. “Okay. But you’re in a liberal country now.”
Zoe could only nod wordlessly. After a moment, she asked, “What happened to her? Jakob’s mother?”
“Brigitta?” She shook her head. “Cancer. It was a terrible time. Jakob was only a teenager.”
The Near & Far Series Page 9
