Virtually Mine (The Lindstroms Book 5)

by Katy Paige

  “What do you think?” he asked Cleo, who looked up at him and wagged her tail expectantly. “You think I should go to one of those barbecues?”

  She stared at him then cocked her little head to the side, as though trying to understand.

  “Nah. I’m no good today.”

  “Just today, huh?”

  Paul looked up, surprised to hear Lars’s voice, and watched his best friend make his way around the porch and up the stairs.

  “Hey, Lars.”

  “Heya, Paul. Cleo.”

  Lars pulled up a chair and put his booted feet up on the white porch railing.

  “Don’t you have about a hundred parents who want to make you a hot dog today?” Lars asked with an easy grin.

  Paul shrugged. “Not in the mood.”

  “Since when?”

  “Huh?”

  “Man, you’re acting weird lately. Going to the movies on a perfectly sunny afternoon, and missing barbecues on purpose. Since when are you not in the mood to go hang out with your students and their families?”

  “I’m just not. Can you leave it alone?”

  “Sure.” Lars looked away from Paul in the direction of Yellowstone. “Want to come to the park? I’m tracking some grizzlies. Mama and cub getting closer and closer to the road.”

  At the mention of the word “park” Cleo jumped off the swing and put her front paws excitedly on Lars’s leg, her tail wagging hopefully.

  “Nah,” said Paul. “Sorry, Cleo. Not up for it.”

  “Come on,” said Lars, scratching under the little dog’s chin and glancing over at Paul. “Cleo’s up for it. I could use the company…and some advice.”

  Paul straightened up a little, distracted by something other than Holly for the first time all day. Lars Lindstrom didn’t ask for advice. He was about the most relaxed, happy-go-lucky person Paul knew. Paul and Lars could spend four hours huddled in their ice-fishing shack on Upper Slide waiting for a bite and never say anything of real importance to one another over the course of a whole afternoon. But Paul loved Lars like a brother, and whatever Lars needed, Paul was only too happy to help.

  “What’s up?”

  “There’s this girl…”

  “Park girl?”

  In the Lindstrom family vernacular, “park girls” were young women who came to Gardiner to hike in the park, looking for adventure and a little romance on the side. Lars—and his brother Erik, before Erik got married and moved away—regularly hooked up with park girls throughout the summer. He never got serious with any of them, of course; they were harmless flings. For years, however, Paul had warned Lars for years that some girl was going to get her heart broken and create a mess. He wondered if that’s what had happened.

  “No! Well, I mean, she’s here for the park, but she’s not a park girl. She’s with the, uh—the photo shoot I’m helping with.” Lars looked away from Paul, took off his cowboy hat and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. It was a tell that Paul recognized, cluing him into the somewhat surprising fact that Lars liked this girl. “She’s a real smart-ass. From New York. She’s not the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, but I’m—I can’t stop thinking about her. There’s something about her and I can’t get her out of my head. She’s all fun and funny and nice one minute, then she gets all cool and professional the next. Hot and cold. I can’t tell if she likes me or not. And the voice on this girl, Paul? Shoot. It’s like honey. It’s like hot…drizzled…honey.”

  He’s talking about Jane, Paul realized, remembering Jane’s distinctive throaty voice. Lars is falling for Jane.

  But he kept this information to himself. He wanted Lars to feel comfortable talking and Lars might clam up if he knew that Paul and Jane had already met.

  “You think I understand women?” Paul asked.

  Fat chance. I had one hang up on me twelve hours ago.

  Lars chuckled. “She’s coming out with me tonight. To the fireworks.”

  “That’s good, right? What’s the problem?”

  “I think I like her,” said Lars, staring at Electric Peak, his voice soft but firm. “Like like her.”

  Paul stayed quiet. He felt the gravitas of this admission—when the Lindstroms fell, they fell hard—and Paul sensed there was more to come. Sure enough, he was right.

  “I kissed her yesterday,” Lars confessed, still looking straight ahead. Paul sensed this wasn’t some kiss Lars bestowed on a park girl without thinking. He sensed it meant much more. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s a job. She’s from New York. She’s leaving. I don’t want to get attached to her. Hell, I don’t know what I’m doing. She’s got me all turned around. She’s complicated. I don’t like complicated.”

  Paul thought of what he’d give to have Holly in Gardiner tonight, to be able to take her to the fireworks.

  Anything. He’d give just about anything. He’d certainly put up with a little complication.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Paul lightly. “See what happens tonight. Have fun with her. Don’t overthink it.”

  “Yeah?”

  Paul shrugged, and just then, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He reached for it, almost afraid to look at the screen.

  Are you there? It’s me.

  “Yeah,” he said, looking up at his friend and smiling. Five words. Just five words and all of the burdens of the morning fell from his shoulders, leaving him hopeful that he and Holly would work things out, after all. “You like her. Just have fun.”

  Lars stood up and put his hat back on his head, looking mollified.

  “Sure you don’t want to come track some grizzlies?”

  “Nah. But, I’ll look for you later at the fireworks.”

  “Don’t look too hard. I might not want to be interrupted, if you know what I mean.”

  “All the more reason to interrupt you then,” he said, teasing his friend. “With Erik gone, someone’s got to give you some hell.”

  “Asshole,” Lars muttered, giving Paul the finger as he made his way off the porch, back around Paul’s house to his truck. “Seeya later.”

  “Seeya!”

  As Lars pulled away, Paul looked back down at the message, anxious to talk to Holly.

  I’m here, he typed.

  I’m sorry about last night. I’m sorry I hung up.

  Can I call you? Can we talk now?

  Okay.

  He pressed her number and it rang once before she picked up.

  “It’s me.”

  “Hey,” he said, relieved to hear her voice.

  “I’m so sorry—”

  “No, don’t—it’s okay, Holly.”

  “I was just really surprised.”

  “Yeah, I sort of got that.”

  “I thought about it, and you’re right. I need to meet you too.”

  Of all the things Paul had expected her to say, this wasn’t one of them. Disbelief, excitement and relief fought for his attention at once. “You do?”

  “I do,” she said softly. “I just need to get used to the idea, okay?”

  “Anything you need, sweetheart.”

  She paused for a second and he imagined her smiling as wide as he was.

  “Paul?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What you said last night. Before I interrupted you—”

  “Yeah.”

  “I just wanted to say…Me too. I’m falling for you, too.”

  “Aw, Holly,” he murmured, surprised by how hard her words hit him. The most beautiful girl in the world was falling for him. Life just didn’t get any sweeter than this.

  She hurried on, her voice nervous and a little urgent. “It’s important to me that you know that. Really know it. Remember I said it and meant it. Don’t forget.”

  “Forget? Sweetheart, I’m going to live on it until I see you in person.”

  His heart felt so full he thought it would burst right out of his chest. And that’d be okay. Because Holly was falling in l
ove with him, and there was nothing—nothing—better than that in the whole, wide world.

  “Holly, I’m…I wish you were here. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “Say you’ll call me tomorrow. Tell me all about the first day of school.”

  “You can’t talk any more now?” He wished he could spend all afternoon on the phone with her. Five minutes just wasn’t enough.

  “I’m actually at a barbecue. Well, in the bathroom talking to you at a barbecue because I was being so quiet and looking so sad, people were asking me if I was okay. I couldn’t think about anything else…I—I had to make things right with you. I hated the way we left things.”

  “I just passed up the chance to go to Yellowstone with Lars because I was in such a bad mood. Knew I’d be terrible company because I couldn’t stop thinking about you either,” he said and he could hear the laughter in his own voice, taking some small pleasure in knowing that they’d been miserable together.

  “Not anymore?”

  “Nope. One-eighty. I’m on top of the world, Holly.”

  She did that light chuckle that he loved so much.

  “Stay there,” she said, “on top of the world. I’ll see you there soon.”

  “Soon, sweetheart.”

  “Bye, for now,” she whispered.

  The line went dead, and he pressed end.

  Soon. He counted quickly in his head. Thirty-seven days. Thirty-seven days! It sounded like an eternity, and yet he knew he should be grateful. When he’d woken up this morning, he’d come close to losing hope that they’d be able to work things out. Now here he was seeing her in a little over a month!

  He smiled, shaking his head and laughing, and Cleo looked up at him like he was losing his mind.

  “Cleo, I can’t stay here all day with you! I have barbecues to go to, and there’s going to be fireworks tonight and tomorrow’s the first day of school…and you know Holly, right? She’s going to want a full report!”

  Cleo barked her support, and Paul jumped off the swing feeling ten feet tall. There wasn’t a thing in the world that could rattle his good mood for the rest of today. Holly was falling in love with him and he’d see her sweet face in a mere five weeks.

  Westley had finally found his Buttercup and just as he’d always known: nothing—not a little distance or a very unconventional meeting—could stop the course of true love.

  CHAPTER 7

  Twelve days and two hours later, Zoë buckled her seatbelt in preparation for landing, tucking her iPad back into her carry-on bag and taking a deep, shaky breath.

  She’d be on the ground in Bozeman in about fifteen minutes.

  Stan was surprisingly easygoing about Zoë taking a week of vacation, perhaps because she’d promised to work her butt off in the days preceding her trip, and she was as good as her word, pouring all of her nervous energy into finishing all of her outstanding projects.

  She’d lost another five pounds—partly because her stomach flip-flopped so much in anticipation of her trip, she could barely eat anything! Sandy had taken her shopping at the mall twice, which had made Zoë uncomfortable at first, but she had to admit that Sandy had a good eye for choosing flattering clothes.

  Shifting in her seat as they broke through the clouds, Zoë gasped at the beauty below from her bird’s-eye view. She could see a small city and a scattering of suburbs, but the landscape was dominated by mountains and her fingers itched with a longing to try to capture the stunning view on canvas, reminding her of her “cover story.”

  Until she figured out how to meet and speak to Paul, she’d decided to embrace her creative side and tell anyone who asked that she was an artist from back east visiting Gardiner to do some paintings of the park. She’d even packed a small bag of acrylics, pastels, charcoal and pencils, quality paper with a good nubby texture and her collapsible easel. As long as she was going to be in one of the most beautiful places on earth, she may as well try to capture it.

  In all honesty, though, she shouldn’t need her “cover story.” She wasn’t planning to use it for long. She had booked a room at a bed-and-breakfast on Paul’s street, and she fully intended to stop by his house tonight to meet him in person and tell him the truth about everything. Sandy had let her practice her speech about fifty times and Zoë was well prepared for her confession.

  She was also terrified.

  She knew he would be angry.

  What worried her the most, though, was rejection.

  Over the past two weeks, since Labor Day weekend, her feelings had only deepened. Paul had easily slipped into calling her “Sweetheart,” and in Zoë’s mind, they were an “official” couple, so much so that when Stan’s somewhat eligible son had stopped by the office last week to see his dad and ended up asking Zoë out for coffee, she’d said no. Two months ago, she’d have been delighted that Bruce had noticed her, but now, Zoë’s heart was firmly taken by a man she’d never touched, never seen, never even met in person.

  A man who very well might turn his back on her in a matter of hours.

  He had every right to turn his back on her. Although Zoë tried to force that painful reality from her mind, she’d had to prepare herself, in some small part, for the possibility that Paul wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t be able to hear her—that he wouldn’t want to know her anymore once he understood the breadth of her deception.

  It made her stomach flip over with despair when she thought of losing him. After a month of wonderful she could barely stand the thought of returning home to nothing.

  “Flight attendants, prepare for arrival.”

  The landing gear fell into place and her hands gripped the sides of her seat as her heart fluttered. No matter what happened, there was no turning back now.

  She had been surprised to learn that there were only two ways to get to Gardiner. There were no buses, trains or other manner of public transportation, so Zoë had been left with the choice of renting a car and driving herself the ninety minutes south on unfamiliar highways, or hiring a car service. While driving on local highways at home was bad enough, Zoë briefly tried to convince herself to drive when she learned that the only Gardiner tour operator that offered round trip airport service was called Lindstrom & Sons.

  How ironic that her first point of contact in Montana would be one of Paul’s best friends.

  She’d spoken with an older-sounding man who’d identified himself as Carl Lindstrom, and told her that his son, Nils, would be waiting for her at baggage claim.

  Zoë knew who Nils Lindstrom was, of course. Paul had told her all about the Lindstroms in their many phone and email conversations. Nils was the oldest of the four Lindstrom siblings; the older brother of Paul’s best friend, Lars, and Paul’s one-time crush, Jenny. Zoë was going to have to be very careful on the drive to Gardiner; she didn’t want Nils to sense anything odd in their conversation. She didn’t want anyone else to figure out who she was before she had a chance to talk to Paul.

  As the plane taxied to the gate, Zoë’s heart thumped in her chest, but she pushed her nerves and misgivings to the side, reminding herself of what she knew for certain:

  Zoë Holly Flannigan was in love with Paul Johansson.

  This was the only way.

  ***

  Paul loved taking a run on Saturday afternoons in the fall. Starting from his house on Stone Street, he would jog south past the high school, around the community park to the Roosevelt Arch, all the way down Park Street to the Yellowstone River, then loop south on Reamer Road into the park a ways before heading north on 89 back home. It didn’t take more than forty minutes. Just enough to work up a sweat and do a little thinking.

  Invariably his thoughts turned to Holly.

  Twenty-five days. Twenty-five more days until he’d board a plane for Hartford, rent a car and drive north to Mystic. Mostly it felt like eternity. He could hardly wait.

  As they swapped stories about the first weeks of school, he’d been filled with a sense of emotional completeness, only challenged by h
is physical longing for her. If he was honest, he’d admit that there were days when the sound of her voice—the sound alone—aroused him. The physical ache was so profound that at least twice he’d taken a cold shower after hanging up, which hadn’t really helped anything. His body wouldn’t be satisfied until it was holding hers, touching hers, his lips capturing hers for kisses, his hands cupping the soft flesh of her breasts in his hands, flicking his thumb over her nipples until she moaned in pleasure and her eyes rolled back in her head as he thrust into—

  A truck honked loudly at Paul and he realized he’d veered off the jogging path into the street. He waved sheepishly, righting his course.

  This happened more and more often lately—getting distracted by an intense sexual daydream involving Holly.

  And heck, it was uncomfortable to live in such a prolonged, heightened state of unfulfilled longing. Most days he felt like a teenager again, his head creating mind-blowing fantasies that kept him in a perpetual state of arousal. Even when he took care of his urges in the shower, it wasn’t long before he was practically aching for her again. Aside from the fact that Paul hadn’t had sex in several months—the last interlude being a one-night stand with a “park girl” that Lars had set him up with in June—constantly talking to Holly and thinking about her had become an extended sort of torturous foreplay.

  He stopped for a moment at the arch, catching his breath, leaning up against the cool stone in the sunshine.

  He had to stop thinking like this.

  Realistically, he knew that as much as he hungered for her, they would probably need a little while to get used to each other before he could make a move on her, and October might not afford enough time for that to happen. Oh, sure, he fantasized that they’d rip off each other’s clothes at first sight, stumbling through her apartment and falling onto her bed where they’d stay without eating or drinking for four days having epic, nonstop sex until he had to drive back up to Hartford to catch his flight home.

  He leaned over, putting his hands on his knees and taking a few deep breaths before restarting his run.

  You’re going to have to control yourself, Paul. You’re going to have to take it slow.