Falke’s Peak

definitely the same woman. The one he loved.

Axel pulled a slip of paper from his inside jacket pocket. “You didn’t get your receipt. I thought you might need it for your records…or something.”

God, that sounded lame, Gunnar thought.

Dakota took the receipt from Axel’s fingers and unfolded it. This time when she looked back at them, temper sparked in those gorgeous eyes. “That’s…quite a discount.”

Axel shrugged. “With the avalanche and all—”

“And all?” she asked, her voice rising. “And all, huh?” Her eyes narrowed on Axel, and she stood up, picking up that big, leather purse and slinging the straps over her shoulder. The pale pink sweater she wore looked soft and hugged every curve. “If you think that you owe me for—” She stopped, glancing at Carrie and the boyfriend. “Excuse us,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Yeah,” the guy said. “We’ll get the breakfast bill and meet you in the car. But don’t take too long.

We’ve got to get on the road.”

Dakota stalked off.

“Nice meeting you,” Carrie called after Gunnar and Axel as they followed Dakota out of the coffee shop.

They went through the lobby and around a corner leading to the first-floor rooms. She stopped and whirled on them. “You two are not paying me for sex,” she hissed and waved the receipt in their faces. “What the hell do you take me for?”

“What? No, that’s not—” Axel stuttered a few more uhs and ahs, but Gunnar had a better idea. He stepped forward, pulled her hard against his body and dropped his mouth to hers. She shoved at his shoulder for the briefest moment, the paper receipt crinkling, but then her entire body melded with his, and she opened her mouth on a soft moan, giving him access. He sank his tongue inside to taste her. His cock hardened against her belly, and it took all of his willpower not to grind against her and push her up against the wall.

“No,” she moaned as she pulled back and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “No, Gunnar.”

“We’re not paying for sex, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear. “I swear. The markdown was because of the avalanche, the wolf and the fear you suffered when you paid for and expected fun, safety, and relaxation. We’d never think of y—”

“Gun,” Axel said softly.

Gunnar was loath to let go of her, but he passed her over to Axel, who wrapped his arms around her and gently kissed her lips.

“Dakota,” Axel whispered. “Don’t go.”

She jerked back and stared at him, a look of disbelief on her face. “What?”

“We don’t want you to go,” Gunnar answered.

She turned her head and looked at him, her eyebrows pulling together. “I have to.”

Gunnar shook his head. “Stay here. With us. Don’t leave. We’ll take care of you.”

“You’ll—” She shoved away from Axel, crammed the wrinkled receipt into her purse, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t need anyone to ‘take care of me.’ I’m a big girl. And I’m not going to stand here and… God!”

“Maybe he said that wrong,” Axel said, reaching out to her.

She stepped back, out of reach. “I have my career, my condo, my… Everything is in Vegas. I can’t stay here. And I’m sure not going to rely on some man-men—to take care of me. I don’t belong here. This isn’t my home.”

“It could be,” Gunnar said.

She shook her head. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. My parents are on their way to Vegas right now. They’re meeting me at the airport.”

If? Gunnar tried another way. “Then promise to come back.”

Her expression softened for an instant then turned to…sadness? Regret? Slowly she shook her head.

“We want you,” Axel said, and Gunnar knew the kind of courage it took for his brother to admit that.

“Only you.”

“You don’t even know me!” She threw up her hands in a sign of frustration.

Gunnar’s gut tightened, and his heart seemed to shrivel up in his chest.

“Look, guys,” she said, her voice softer as she stepped closer to them, reached out and took Gunnar’s hand in hers, then reached for one of Axel’s. “You two showed me a wonderful time. I’ll never forget it or you. Everything about this week was…magical. But it’s time for me to go back to the real world.”

“We’re real,” Axel said, and Gunnar heard the strain in his voice.

She gave them a sad little smile, squeezed their hands and kissed each of them on the cheek. Her lips by his ear, she promised, “I’ll keep your secret.” When she pulled away, she looked at Axel. “I have to go.”

Was there a slight quaver in her voice?

She let go of their hands and walked around them, walked away from them, and vanished around the corner to the lobby.

Axel’s back thumped against the wall as he shoved his hands in his pockets and dropped his head forward.

Gunnar had never felt so much pain. Not his broken leg when he was twelve and fell off the roof. Not his concussion when he was sixteen and took a nosedive off his motorcycle.

“She isn’t the one,” Axel said, his voice tight. “If she could walk away, she’s not the one. Right?”

Gunnar’s heart shattered. If Dakota wasn’t the one, then he didn’t think the one existed. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting— needing —another woman the way he needed her.

“Right? ” Axel demanded, looking up with desolate eyes.

“Right,” Gunnar said, the word strangled, not wanting to leave his lips.

“Right,” Axel said. He shoved away from the wall.

“I need a drink.”

Gunnar followed him into the hotel lounge, which he was surprised was open at that time of the morning.

Axel sidled up to the bar and plopped down on a stool.

“Ax, maybe drinking—”

“Coffee,” Axel told the bartender. “Very hot and very black.”

Gunnar almost smiled, but it was short lived.

“Same,” he said, sitting down next to his brother.

Long silence stretched as they sipped their drinks.

Then Axel nudged Gunnar with his shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world. It was good while it lasted, but she’s not the only fish in the sea.”

Gunnar scowled at his brother’s profile. You keep telling yourself that, and maybe you’ll even believe it one day.

Axel turned his head. What else can we do?

* * *

Axel picked the last plate Gunnar had just rinsed off the counter, dried it and stuck it in the cupboard overhead. A Sunday night ritual at the Falke house, Heidi had cooked, as usual, and the guys took turns with kitchen cleanup.

Though he, Gunnar and a couple of his other brothers lived in the apartments above the outfitters store, the family always met for dinner at their fathers’ home on weekends. Gunnar rung out the dish cloth and wiped down first the island in the middle of the massive kitchen, then the countertop around the sink, while Axel made sure the pots and pans were stored properly, stacked just so in the cabinet, or Heidi would pitch a fit.

The rest of the family was already in the living room, shouting at the television as they watched whatever sports happened to be on.

“Boys.”

Axel turned from the stove to see their dads standing in the doorway.

“The den.” Their dads turned and walked out of the kitchen.