“Hej, Mamma,” he greeted her fondly.
“Hello, my treasure!” Her face glowed with so much love and affection, he felt an overwhelming pang of homesickness. She blew him a bunch of kisses that he pretended to pluck out of the air like floating soap bubbles. This had been their special thing ever since he was a little boy, and it always made her laugh with delight. If Reid or any of his teammates ever caught him doing it, he’d never live it down.
“Congratulations on your All-Star news!” his mother gushed in Swedish. “We’re so excited and proud of you!”
Grinning, Viggo responded in Swedish, “Thanks, Mamma. I appreciate that.”
Hedda Sandström was a beautiful woman with ocean blue eyes and ash blond hair that she wore just above her shoulders. She looked comfy but chic in a cardigan sweater and faded jeans that were frayed at the hems. She was lounging on the living room sofa with one leg casually draped over the other. Her feet were bare, her toenails unpolished. She was one of those earthy types who wore little makeup, practiced yoga and took good care of herself to preserve the youthful genes she’d been blessed with.
She beamed at Viggo. “Our friends have been calling since the announcement was made. You’ve probably heard from some of them.”
“I have,” Viggo confirmed, chuckling. “I think I’ve heard from just about everyone you and Pappa know.”
She laughed. “Wait until your team wins the Stanley Cup. They’re going to throw a parade in your honor and petition the government to name a street after you.”
Viggo laughed. “All I want is the Cup. I don’t need parades or any of that other stuff.”
He heard his father’s deep voice in the background, speaking in Swedish. “Are you Skyping with Viggo?”
“Yah!” Hedda called over her shoulder. “Come talk to your son!”
A few seconds later Ludvig Sandström came into the frame, rounding the sofa to sit down next to his wife. He grinned broadly at Viggo. “There’s the man of the hour!”
Viggo grinned. “Hey, Pappa.”
“Hey yourself, Captain,” Ludvig said proudly. “Your hard work and diligence keep paying off. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Pappa,” Viggo said warmly.
He looked a lot like his father. He’d inherited his dark blond hair, gray eyes and imposing height. Ludvig still had a head full of hair, but it was turning more silver by the day. And now he wore reading glasses, fashionable black frames that highlighted his chiseled features and made him look serious and intelligent. The scholarly look served him well as a researcher and vice-chancellor of Stockholm University.
He settled back against the sofa cushion and draped his arm along the back, kissing the top of his wife’s head when she nestled into him.
The love between his parents was something Viggo had always taken for granted. Their displays of affection had been a regular occurrence when he was growing up. He remembered his father bringing home flowers for no special reason. He remembered his mom rubbing sunscreen on his dad’s back during family vacations, smiling naughtily as she whispered in his ear. They’d always gone for long walks and spent many quiet evenings curled up on the sofa together, sipping wine and listening to music.
Because of them, Viggo grew up naively believing that everyone’s parents loved and adored each other to distraction. It shaped his perception of relationships and made him set high standards for the women he dated, impossibly high standards no one could ever meet. But that was okay because he wasn’t looking for anything serious. He was only twenty-five and he still had plenty of time to find a wife and settle down. For now he was focused on hockey, and he didn’t have room in his life for anything else.
Or so he’d believed until he met Scarlett.
His father’s voice broke into his thoughts. “So the All-Star Game is in Nashville this year, eh?”
“Yeah. January thirty-first.” Viggo wondered if Scarlett would be able to go with him. He could upgrade to an executive suite at the hotel and show her a really good time. Just the thought of spending another weekend with her had his heart pumping with excitement.
Yeah, he was totally fucked.
“We’ll be tuning in to watch the game,” his dad promised.
“Yes we will,” his mom asserted. “No matter how late it is.”
Viggo smiled. He knew how fortunate he was to have such a supportive family. They watched most of his games and always celebrated his achievements, big or small. He wouldn’t have made it this far without them.
His mother smiled. “You should have heard your grandfather. He was so—” She broke off at the frozen look on Viggo’s face.
In the tense silence that followed, a familiar sadness entered her eyes.
“Have you talked to him lately?” she asked quietly.
“No.” His tone was flat, discouraging further discussion.
She looked even sadder.
Ludvig put his hand on her knee and gave her a comforting squeeze.
Steeling his emotions, Viggo looked away from his parents to stare out the window. Early afternoon sunlight reflected off the downtown office buildings of Columbus. The team would soon be leaving for the arena to get suited up for the game. Since it was an early one, and Scarlett’s band didn’t take the stage until nine, the stars seemed aligned in his favor.
“So getting back to more pleasant news.”
Viggo returned his gaze to the laptop. The sadness was gone from his mother’s eyes, replaced by a twinkling gleam that he much preferred.
“There’s another reason I wanted to Skype with you,” she told him. “I have something important to discuss with you, and I wanted to be able to see your face while we talk.”
Her husband rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Here we go.”
Viggo chuckled, shifting in his chair. He knew what was coming.
“Tell us more about Scarlett.”
“More?” he drawled, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. “What do you already know?”
“Not nearly enough.” His mother was smiling. “Astrid showed us pictures of you and Scarlett. She’s very beautiful.”
“Very,” his father agreed.
Viggo smiled. “She is beautiful. Inside and out.”
“But she’s in a band.” His mom tsk-tsked. “Rock stars can be trouble.”
He grinned. “That’s what they say about hockey players.”
“Humph. Not my baby.”
Viggo and his father laughed.
“We thought you spent Christmas in Canada with Reid’s family,” his mother continued, “but Rikard says you were with Scarlett in New York. Why didn’t you tell us about her when we spoke to you that morning?”
Before Viggo could respond, his father said indulgently, “Now, now, Hedda. Our son is a grown man now. He doesn’t have to tell us about every woman he dates. And this isn’t even the first girlfriend he’s been photographed with.”
“I know, but there’s something different about this one.” An intuitive gleam sparkled in the blue eyes that studied Viggo. “This one is special, Ludvig. A mother knows these things.”
Viggo smiled softly. “You’re right. Scarlett is special.”
His mother beamed.
“Listen to me, son.” His father gave him a sage look, as if he were about to impart ancient wisdom. “If she takes off her shoes before entering your apartment, then you’ll know she’s the one.”
“Nonsense,” his wife guffawed. “The girl is American. You can’t expect her to—”
“She did.”
His parents stared at him. “She did what? Took off her shoes?”
Viggo nodded and smiled, his heart squeezing at the memory of Scarlett removing her boots before scampering off excitedly like a little girl. Such a simple thing, but it had melted him down to the marrow in his bones.
His parents searched his face a moment longer, then exchanged pleased smiles.
“Just when we were starting to lose hope,” Hedda mused to her husband, �
�it looks like one of our six children might give us grandbabies after all.”
Viggo’s smile dimmed as he remembered Scarlett telling him that she didn’t want any children. Her words had put a dagger through his heart, although that was probably unreasonable given that they’d just started dating. It was way too soon to be thinking about serious matters like marriage and starting a family. There was no guarantee that their relationship would even last.
But one thing he knew for sure was that he wanted kids. At least two or three. If Scarlett wasn’t on the same page, that could be a deal-breaker.
A gut-wrenching deal-breaker.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Because even though his head was telling him to take things slow and proceed with caution, his heart was already singing a different tune.
* * *
The rebels beat the Blue Jackets 3-1.
After the game Viggo, Reid and Nadia hopped into a rental car and hauled ass down to Cincinnati. He broke the speed limit the whole way to the downtown club where the concert was being held.
When they arrived, the parking lot was packed and loud music spilled from the club. Off The Grid had already started their set.
Viggo circled the lot once before finding an empty spot, barreling into the space to beat another driver.
Reid and Nadia laughingly called him a savage as they all jumped out of the car and headed inside the noisy club. It was one of those smaller venues that had a stand-only pit in front of the stage with limited seating along the sides and back of the room.
The house lights were dimmed low, a spotlight trained on the five-member band onstage. They were tearing their way through “Pretend You Give a Damn,” one of Viggo’s favorite songs from the band’s first album. Seeing the excitement of the capacity crowd, you would never know that Off The Grid was the opening act and not the headliner. The concertgoers were jumping up and down, pumping their fists and screaming the lyrics to the song.
Viggo and Reid began clearing a path through the frenzied crowd, keeping Nadia protectively sandwiched between them. They got a few disgruntled looks, but they were big dudes so nobody fucked with them.
Viggo led the way toward the front of the room, staring up at the performers onstage—specifically Scarlett.
Drummers were usually relegated to the back, tucked away behind their drum kits.
Not this drummer.
Scarlett Rain Warner commanded center stage like it was her birthright. And the way she played her drums left zero fucking doubt that she was right where she belonged, doing exactly what she’d been born to do.
Tonight she wore a black fishnet bodysuit under a metallic leather corset, black leather short shorts and psychedelic thigh-high metallic boots.
Holy wet dreams. She looked hot as hell.
She was looking through the crowd, feeding off their energy as she performed the hardcore metal song.
Suddenly her dark eyes met Viggo’s.
The connection sizzled through him like the zap of a live wire. Her eyes widened in surprise, then softened with pure pleasure. When she smiled a secret smile, his heart nearly stopped beating.
Her eyes stayed locked with his, guiding him to a spot in front of the stage as she sang into the microphone: “You see deep into my soul…Your power grows in my weakness…You cut me and I bleed and then you tell me to leave…But I have nowhere to go…Nowhere to run from you…Nowhere to hide!”
She screamed the last of the verse, sending a full-body shiver through Viggo. As the crowd yelled and thrashed around him, he stood completely transfixed, unable to blink or look away from Scarlett. She was a siren up on that stage, a bona fide rock goddess. His heart pounded overtime as he took in all of her, every breathtaking inch.
He had to forcibly drag his gaze away from her to look at the rest of the band. The wild-haired bassist flung his head back and forth as he strummed his guitar, infusing the song with a thumping bass line that shook the walls. The Japanese guitarist played with his eyes closed, his fingers sliding furiously along the frets as he made his guitar weep. The lead guitarist growled into the mic, backing Scarlett on vocals while a blond hipster in a Slayer T-shirt banged away at the keyboard. The band’s synergy was electric, their individual styles blending seamlessly.
A horde of groupies danced in front of the stage, screaming the band members’ names. Scarlett had just as many worshippers as the guys.
When she stepped out from behind her drum kit and started strutting around in those thigh-high boots, every dude in the audience probably sprouted a boner. They showered her with lusty cheers, wolf whistles and catcalls. Viggo couldn’t really blame the pricks for leering at his woman. But that didn’t quell his primal urge to go berserker on their asses.
He even felt territorial when Scarlett went up behind the lead guitarist and reached around him to strum his guitar, wowing the crowd with some killer riffs. Gage laughed as she shimmied around him, the two of them leaning back-to-back and harmonizing like rock ’n’ roll soul mates.
Even as Scarlett worked the crowd, she had the presence of mind to admonish the douchebags who groped crowd-surfing female audience members. “Now c’mon, boys. Let’s keep our hands to ourselves so everyone can enjoy the show.”
A few assholes booed her warning, but their grumblings were drowned out by a swell of appreciative cheers and applause.
“I love you, Scarlett!” one female fan yelled.
Scarlett blew her a kiss and winked. “Love you too, baby.”
As the band tore through their set, Viggo found it hard to focus on anyone but Scarlett. She was such an electrifying performer, a drumming maniac who whipped her hair around while belting out raw lyrics and smashing the holy hell out of her drums. At one point she threw her drumsticks into the air, caught them and kicked the cymbals without missing a damn beat.
“Holy shit!” Viggo and Reid exclaimed as the crowd roared their approval and threw up horns. More bodies hurtled up and down a roiling mosh pit fueled by Scarlett’s musical fury. She dominated the stage and had every audience member caught in her spell.
When the song ended she spoke to the crowd, her voice husky from her manic exertions. “As some of you might know, we love to switch things up and dabble in different genres. And I think some of us need to cool down a bit, yeah?”
Loud cheers and whistles went up from the audience. Scarlett laughed softly and blew her hair out of her eyes. A heightened sense of anticipation hummed through the crowd as everyone waited to see what the band would play next.
Still standing, Scarlett looked at her grinning bandmates and gave a nod. On cue, the keyboardist began playing a hauntingly seductive melody. Smiling in satisfaction, Scarlett expertly twirled her sticks and started beating her drums, setting the tempo of the new song.
Looking straight at Viggo, she leaned into the mic and sang in a smoky purr, “I want every single piece of you…”
A slow, delighted smile curved Viggo’s lips when he recognized the drum-heavy ballad as Adele’s “I Miss You.”
Reid pulled Nadia in front of him, and together they started swaying to the music along with several other couples.
Viggo couldn’t take his eyes off Scarlett as she sang to him. He stared at her beautiful glowing face, at the swells of her breasts above the corset, at the sexy curve of her thighs in black fishnet. He wanted to rush the stage, yank her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He wanted to bend her over her drums, tear those tiny leather shorts off her body and take her from behind. He wanted to bury himself so far deep inside her that he’d never find his way back out.
She danced seductively behind her drum kit, staring into the depths of his eyes as she crooned, “I love the way your body moves…towards me from across the room….”
He swallowed hard as his erection throbbed in his tightening jeans. The effect she had on him was completely intoxicating. Every word she sang to him made his heart pound and drove hot blood straight to his aching cock.
She soloed
the guts out of the song, earning every last thunderous clap and cheer that followed.
With their eyes still locked, Viggo gave her a look full of dirty heat and wicked promise.
She licked her lips, lowered her lashes and mouthed: Bring it, big boy.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Some hipster standing beside Viggo nudged him and declared drunkenly, “Dude, you are one lucky ass motherfucker.”
He grinned from ear to ear. “I know.”
The band moved from the smoky ballad into screaming rock ’n’ roll with a song called “Mayhem” that worked the crowd into another thrashing frenzy.
Viggo had an absolute blast rocking out with Reid and Nadia. Nadia—who’d always struck him as somewhat prim and proper—became a total metalhead under the influence of Off The Grid’s music. She jumped up and down, yelling out the fiery lyrics and whipping her hair around. Reid totally loved it. So did Viggo.
As the band performed the last song of their set, Viggo leaned close to Reid and announced, “I’m gonna try to sneak backstage.”
Reid grinned, slapping him on the back. “Go get your woman.”
Viggo grinned and headed off, shouldering his way through the sweaty crowd. A few chicks gave him flirty smiles, and someone groped his ass.
When he reached the stairs leading backstage, he was stopped by a hulk of a bouncer in dark sunglasses.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, arms crossed over his barrel chest.
“Just thought I’d wait backstage for my girlfriend,” Viggo drawled.
“You thought wrong. No one’s allowed backstage without a pass.”
He was a big guy, but Viggo could take him. “C’mon, man—”
“No, you come on—”
“Let him through,” a woman’s voice intervened.
Viggo and the security goon turned as a pretty brunette appeared. She was staring up at Viggo, her pale green eyes shining with excitement.
“Oh my God,” she squealed. “You’re Viggo Sandström!”
“For real?” The bouncer lowered his dark shades to stare incredulously at Viggo. “The hockey player?”
The Swede Page 35
