An Unexpected Viking: Sveyn & Hollis: Part One (The Hansen Series - Sveyn & Hollis Book 1)

by Kris Tualla

  “Oh, good,” Hollis murmured, clicking on Everett’s avatar, which indicated he was currently online. “Just a normal chat.”

  Aren’t you the cute redheaded curator I just saw on the news?

  Hollis rolled her eyes. “No one ever gets this right.”

  I’m the Collections Manager. My boss is the curator. After she hit send, she realized that sounded a little pissy. But I’m glad you think I’m cute! 

  A couple of minutes passed. Hollis stood and went into the kitchen to open a bottle of red zin, both to let it breathe and do something with her hands.

  Sveyn sat at the table, watching the screen. The computer beeped.

  “He answered you.”

  Hollis tried to act nonchalant, though her heart pounded hard enough to make her hand shake as she reached for a wine glass. “What did he say?”

  Sveyn lifted his gaze. “He says you are beautiful.”

  She turned her back to Sveyn and smiled. The computer beeped again.

  Hollis set the glass on the counter and returned to the table.

  I’m sorry I don’t know much about museums. Forgive me if I ask dumb questions?

  Hollis chuckled. Most people don’t. No worries. What do you want to know?

  The screen indicated Everett was typing.

  Hollis waited, watching.

  So you found ancient Egyptian stuff in a house? How does that happen?

  “I do not believe you explained the entire situation when you were speaking about the artifacts,” Sveyn observed.

  “You’re right. Benton had already held a few press conferences before this, so I guess he assumed everyone knew.” Hollis began typing. “I’ll try and be brief.”

  There was a wealthy Tempe man who was a hoarder for most of his 105 years.

  When he died, he gave the hoard plus twelve million dollars to the museum.

  She glanced at Sveyn, who was reading over her shoulder. “Oops—better explain why.”

  So they could build a special wing to house it.

  Because the things he collected didn’t fit the museum’s mission statement. At the time.

  Another pause. Hollis went to pour a glass of wine.

  Beep. I didn’t know museums have mission statements.

  Yep, she answered.

  How did you handle that?

  Hollis took a sip of the zin and set her glass down. We had to add a line to the mission statement that said, “including significant international contributions from long-time Arizona residents’ private collections.”

  Interesting.

  Everett then asked her more than dozen questions about the information contained in her original four-sentence explanation.

  Hollis was glad to answer them, encouraged by Everett’s obvious interest in her job. The men she had met after Matt—and Matt himself, to be honest—tended to assume that museum work was about boring, dusty old stuff, and then completely tuned her out.

  Everett, unlike her previous ‘suitors’ as Sveyn called them, was asking astute questions: how did they determine the origin of the items? Or the age? Or the owner?

  Hollis continued with, Ezra was obsessive about documenting what the item was purported to be, and when and where he got it.

  Everett responded with, That’s helpful! 

  But we do double-check his information, Hollis added. We don’t just take his word for it.

  “He has a curious mind,” Sveyn observed. “How long will you engage in this conversation?”

  Hollis looked at the clock, shocked to see the hour.

  It’s after midnight for you!

  I don’t have to be up early, he responded. But maybe you do?

  Hollis hesitated. She really could stay up another hour and still get enough sleep for tomorrow. But there was always something to be said about leaving your audience wanting more.

  I probably should go. It’s been a long day, what with being YouTube famous and all…

  Everett responded with, Hahahahahaaa! Yes, go get your beauty sleep—not that you need it.

  Hollis blushed. That’s sweet. Thank you.

  Not sweet. True.

  This guy was good for her ego. Between Everett and Sveyn she could get a swelled head. I’ll see you in three days.

  I’m looking forward to it, Hollis. Very much so.

  Hollis smiled. Me, too. Goodnight.

  Goodnight.

  She closed the program.

  Sveyn sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I hate the man.”

  Hollis’s jaw dropped and she frowned at him. “Why?”

  The Viking’s gaze fell to the side. “Because I like him.”

  Relieved, Hollis closed her laptop and slid it into her briefcase.

  When she said nothing, Sveyn asked, “You like him as well do you not?”

  I do.

  “It’s easy to be charming on chat,” she deflected. Best not to get her hopes up. “But until I meet him, I can’t be sure.”

  “Why not?”

  “He might have bad breath. Or body odor.” She stood and carried her wine glass to the sink before recorking the remaining half-a-bottle and setting it aside. “I’ve only seen him from the chest up. He could have a belly the size of a beer barrel.”

  Sveyn chuckled. “Women are always concerned about the way a man looks.”

  “And smells.” Hollis switched off the kitchen light. “We are programmed to pick the best breeding stock—just as you men are.”

  Sveyn stood and walked to his nightly spot on the couch. “I think that if I lived in this time, I would choose a woman for her head more than her hips.”

  Hollis turned on the television and muted it. She turned to look at Sveyn and grinned. “The Viking is becoming a modern-day man. Who would have expected that?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Thursday

  October 8

  Hollis stood in the entry to the museum’s new wing with Miranda and Mr. Benton.

  “We are on schedule to open in just over seven weeks,” Benton stated. “But I wanted to confirm that we have allocated the space correctly for the various groupings we have planned.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hollis walked behind the museum’s director. “We still have a room and a half to go through at the house, but our initial theme ideas are holding true.”

  Benton stopped and turned to face her, his bushy gray brows pulling together. “Other than the Egyptian pieces, is everything else European?”

  “European and American. Yes, sir.”

  “We have everything listed in a database by year, country, and category,” Miranda offered. “We can change our groupings if we decide that would make the displays more vibrant.”

  “Let’s keep the first space purely American, going backward in time the deeper we go into the wing. That will make the transition from the rest of the museum less… jarring.”

  Sveyn leaned down and spoke in Hollis’s ear. “He wasn’t required to accept the bequest, was he?”

  “It’s complicated,” Hollis murmured.

  “Yes, Ms. McKenna, it is.” Benton turned and once again led them through the spaces. “But that is why you are here—to make it simple for our guests.”

  “There you are, Miranda.” Tony strode up, scowling. “I’ve been looking for you for the last twenty minutes.”

  Miranda faced the collections manager. “What did you need?”

  “The Egyptians are leaving.”

  Benton cleared his throat. “I’ll go. I should be the one to send them off.”

  Tony tipped his head toward the doorway. “They’re waiting in the lobby.”

  As Benton and Miranda walked away, Hollis turned to Tony. “Are you going, too?”

  “Nope. Said my goodbyes. And good riddance.”

  Sveyn laughed.

  Hollis kept her expression neutral. “Has it been a hard week?”

  Tony scowled at her. “You knew it would be when you dumped them into my lap.”

  Holl
is’s indignation surged. “I didn’t—”

  “Only because you don’t have that authority.” Tony shot his gaze toward the doorway and back. “But your new best friend does and you encouraged her.”

  “He is imagining things,” Sveyn growled.

  Hollis folded her arms in front of her. “Miranda made that decision all by herself, Tony.”

  “Oh really?” He jammed his hands in his pockets and walked around behind her. “And why would she do that?”

  Hollis refused to turn around and look at him. “Because you are being a pill about this whole project, that’s why. She threw you a bone.”

  Hollis bit her tongue, hoping she hadn’t said too much. She still had several months here before her contract ended, and a hostile work environment was not part of her plan.

  The idea of moving on reminded her that Everett was arriving in a couple hours.

  Maybe I’ll be moving to Denver.

  Tony stepped in front of her again. “Threw me a bone?”

  His complexion darkened to burgundy; he looked ready to burst. “Because I’m just a trained dog?”

  “Of course not.” Hollis unfolded her arms and threw them wide. “I’m a temp here—you’re not. When are you going to stop being so pissy about this whole situation?”

  The burgundy darkened frighteningly. “Pissy?”

  Sveyn stepped between them. “He is going to suffer an apoplexy if he does not calm down.”

  Hollis startled. That was exactly what the older man looked like.

  She lowered both her hands and her voice. “You have a permanent job, Tony. I’ll be out of your hair in a few months. Can’t we just try to get along until then?”

  With a grunt, Tony spun on the heel of one cowboy boot. Hands still in his pockets, his angry strides took him quickly from the room.

  Hollis sniffed. “That went well, don’t you think?”

  Sveyn shook his head. “I do understand his situation. Men have an inborn need to take care of women and children, not compete with them for dominance.”

  So much for minds over hips. Hollis flashed him a resolved grin. “And the Viking is back.”

  *****

  Hollis and Miranda worked over a floorplan for the wing, assuring their plans aligned with Mr. Benton’s ideas.

  “The question is, do we flow through the American collection, then transition to the European?” Miranda asked. “Or do we present them side-by-side based on dates?”

  Hollis pointed at the plan, an unusual idea forming in her mind. It’s worth a shot.

  “What if we started with the newest things here, where the entrance to the wing is. Front and center, and side-by-side?”

  “Hmm.” Miranda frowned, but nodded. “Then what?”

  “And then we went backwards in time with the European stuff on this side…” Hollis traced her finger around to the right. “Because Europe is to the east. To the right on our maps.”

  Miranda nodded. “And then go this way—” She moved her finger to the left. “And go back in time with the American artifacts.”

  Hollis tapped the oversized paper. “Both collections would meet in the back and center, where their history becomes the same.”

  “I love it! Let Stevie know, so she can coordinate the database. I’ll take care of Benton.” Miranda grabbed a pencil and began to make notes. “We’ll put a world map outline on the entry wall here…”

  The curator was off in her own world now.

  Hollis straightened, smiled at Sveyn, and headed to Stevie’s office.

  “I love it, too.” Stevie was already pulling up the file. “I’ll line up the American items with the European items by date, and then you can select which ones to display.”

  “Great.” For the first time since taking on the hoard, Hollis felt like the random pieces might find a worthy place. “What’s the deadline to have all these decisions set in stone?”

  Stevie looked at the calendar. “Once it is, it’ll take two weeks to have the signage made, and another week to install everything. And we’ll miss a couple work days because of Thanksgiving.”

  “So we need to decide by November first, then.” Hollis blew a sigh. “Priority number one has to be to finish sorting the hoard in the next week.”

  Thanks to Sveyn’s unique abilities, that task had become possible. Knowing what was inside an unopened crate made sorting decisions a snap. “Then we can spend the last two weeks of October choosing the specific pieces and designing the displays.”

  Stevie began writing on the calendar. “And while the signage is being finished, we can clean and prepare the objects and type pieces.”

  “And continue to post online.” Hollis faced Stevie. “Speaking of which, I forget. What is today’s Mystery Item?”

  “A dildo.”

  “What?” Hollis laughed. “Are you serious?”

  “No. Well, maybe. It’s this stone carving. Remember it?”

  Hollis looked at the photo of a brown polished carving of a male figure with a cone-shaped hat and oversized feet. When Stevie tipped the picture on an angle, however…

  “Oh, good Lord! I think you’re right!” Hollis laughed again, avoiding Sveyn’s amused grin.

  “I hope she washed her hands,” he said.

  Smiling, Stevie laid the photo on the desk. “Don’t worry. I washed my hands after.”

  Hollis called the interns together and laid out her plans for Friday and the whole next week. “We’ll need to be fast, but not careless,” she cautioned. “Keep socializing to a minimum. Make decisions quickly. If you have questions, ask me.”

  “Looks like a week of peanut butter and jelly lunches for me.” Tom shrugged. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “That’s what you eat every day,” one of the other guys said.

  Tom chuckled. “I said I wasn’t complaining.”

  “I’ll order pizza next Friday if we finish,” Hollis promised. “And, if you don’t tell anyone, there might be some cold beer in it for you, too. At the end of the job. Now get back to work.”

  Hollis looked at the clock as the three young men filed out of her office. Three fifteen. Everett’s plane was supposed to land at—her thoughts were interrupted by the text signal from her phone.

  Ahead of schedule. We just landed.

  Will call from the hotel.

  Hollis blew a sigh; this was getting real.

  Great. Talk soon!

  *****

  The four-star Buttes Hotel wasn’t far from the museum, and was beautifully situated on a hill of volcanic boulders overlooking Phoenix. Hollis walked up the steep stone steps to the hotel’s restaurant, her belly clenched so hard with nerves that she wondered if she would be able to eat any dinner. Chatting online was safe and easy. Meeting face-to-face for dinner would determine whether she actually got along with Everett.

  And he with her.

  Sveyn promised to stay in her car. Out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

  Hollis drew a steadying breath and opened the heavy glass doors.

  A perky young blonde flashed a wide smile. “Good evening. Welcome to the Rock. Do you have a reservation with us for this evening?”

  “I’m, um, meeting someone.” Hollis’s gaze swept over the half-filled dining room.

  Perky smiled relentlessly. Hollis wondered if her cheeks hurt, or if the girl did cheek-ersize workouts to be able to maintain that level of perk. “The name?”

  A masculine voice spoke behind her. “Hollis McKenna.”

  Hollis spun around to meet the face she had seen on her computer screen. “How did you know?”

  Everett chuckled. “That hair is a dead giveaway.”

  Hollis self-consciously ran her hand over her hair in a quick tangle test, while Everett shifted his gaze to Perky. “Reservation for Sage, party of two.”

  Hollis did a quick evaluative assessment of her date. No beer barrel belly here. Probably not cover-model sculpted under the polo shirt, but nicely trim for sure.

  �
��Yes, I have it. Follow me, please.”

  Everett laid his hand on the small of Hollis’s back to encourage her to go first. He smelled good. Very good.

  They were seated at a table which gave them a panoramic view of the Phoenix sunset and skyline. The table décor was interesting, with napkins and silverware placed on a slice of a tree trunk. The day’s menu was on top, tied shut.

  Everett held her chair before taking a seat on her right. “The view certainly doesn’t disappoint.”

  Hollis agreed. “I do love watching a city transition from daylight to night.”

  Everett leaned closer. “That’s not the view I was referring to.”

  Hollis felt her cheeks flush, but forged on nonetheless. “May I return the compliment?”

  “You may. And thank you.” He lifted the wine menu. “Do you drink wine?”

  She kept her expression neutral. “Sometimes. Sure.”

  Everett scanned the listing. “Red or white? Or do you want to decide on your food first?”

  “Either one.”

  He nodded slowly. “Let’s start with a bottle of red and maybe have a sweet white with dessert.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  The waiter appeared and Everett ordered a pinot noir. Once the wine was uncorked and served, Everett offered a toast.

  “To the start of something lasting.”

  Hollis gave him a shy smile and clinked her glass against his.

  *****

  When the evening drew to a leisurely close, Everett turned his chair to face Hollis. “What’s the verdict?”

  Hollis pulled her gaze away from the twinkling city lights below. “Verdict?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.” Everett tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch sent a wash of goosebumps down her neck.

  Insecurities raised their ugly little heads and stuck out their tongues at her. “You go first.”

  A sultry smile spread over Everett’s handsome face. “I’m pleasantly intrigued. I really want to see you again.”

  Oh thank God.

  Hollis nodded. “I would like that.”

  Everett pulled out his phone and opened his calendar. “Tomorrow I am visiting the Heard Museum. Part of my research into ancient healing methods.”