“Why do they need a clinic?” Her resistance was crumbling. It might be far, but as much as she’d miss home, when she remembered Wade’s behavior on Friday night, she knew far was a smart idea. And like it or lump it, she simply didn’t have many options.
Ingrid shrugged, taking a sip of coffee. “Town wants one. You know how it is once you go north; towns are farther apart. The nearest hospital’s in Kalispell, and that’s a hard drive if you’re bleeding out, or in labor. Remember those art galleries I mentioned? Well, it’s a wealthy little town. They can afford to build something closer, and Joe specializes in starting up small, local clinics.”
Her brother squeezed her hand. “C’mon, Kat. It’s a good fit for you. And you don’t have to interview or anything. Job’s yours if you want it.”
“Okay,” she exhaled and then took a deep, bracing breath as she wiped away the last of her tears and sat up straighter. “I’ll do it. I’ll go. Lay it out for me. I’m listening.”
Kristian smiled at Ingrid, looking relieved.
“You’ll go today, before they let Wade out. Draw the shades at your apartment; leave your car in the garage. We’ll call the hospital and say you won’t be back to work, that you’ve moved without a forwarding address. You can stop by the police station to get the forms for the restraining order on your way out of town. The important thing is for you to go. Just go.”
“Why can't I take my car?” She’d need transportation once she got there, wouldn’t she?
Ingrid shrugged. “It’s a small, walkable town, so you won’t really need your car. Plus, it’ll throw off Wade if your car’s still in the garage.
“He’s going to be riled when he catches on, but by then you’ll be far away. Hopefully once you’ve been gone for a few weeks, Wade will give up on you. Stop going by your place. Maybe he’ll get help, maybe he won’t. But, you won’t be here, so he’ll have to direct his anger elsewhere.
“And then you stay up in Skidoo for a while. Dr. Joe’s an amazing man to work for. I know you’re going to learn a lot.
“There’s a two-bedroom apartment over the clinic and Joe already had it tidied up for you and another nurse to share, so you even have a place to stay. It’s all done, Kat. I was on the phone with Joe this morning, and he’s looking forward to seeing you. It’s all arranged. All you have to do is go.”
“Thank you, Ing,” Kat whispered, overcome with gratitude for her strong, capable sister-in-law who had somehow managed to plan an entire escape. She hated the idea of running away from her home, but she had to get away from Wade, and a part of her—the part that had been scared for weeks—gave a long, grateful sigh of relief. She rubbed her forehead with her palm, nodding. “I’ll go. I’ll do it. But, one thing…does it have to be today? I mean, Wade’s probably going to be held for another day, at least, so couldn’t we—”
Katrin was interrupted by her brother’s dog, Pilot, barking an alert at the front door.
She sat up straight and craned her neck to get a look at the German Shepherd, then faced her brother. “Who’s here? Are you expecting someone?”
“We needed to get you out of here as fast as possible. With someone safe,” said Kristian, putting his hands on the table to stand up.
Katrin turned to Ingrid. “Who’s here, Ing?”
Ingrid took a deep breath and fixed a reassuring smile on her face. “Erik Lindstrom. Sam’s brother-in-law. Also, um…your ride.”
“My…ride?”
“Rip off the Band-Aid,” advised Ingrid, hurrying out of the kitchen with her husband to greet their guest.
Katrin looked down at her clothes with a horrified grimace. Swiping her sweaty hands on the front of her tattered gray yoga pants, she tried to smooth out the creases in her grimy, covered-with-pancake-batter sweatshirt.
She’d seen Erik Lindstrom and his brothers at Sam and Jenny’s wedding the summer before last—it was utterly impossible to miss that much masculine beauty in one room—but she hadn’t visited with them very much. She’d been with Wade at the time, preoccupied with the idea of her boyfriend in the same room as an open bar.
Still pushing greasy, stray hairs back into her bun, she headed into the living room.
There, taking up the entire front doorway, stood Erik Lindstrom.
Kat suppressed a sigh.
Over six feet tall, muscular and broad chested, with a shock of almost-white blond hair cut in a neat, military-style crew cut, he was the very definition of a modern Viking. Wearing jeans and a button-down light blue shirt with the cuffs rolled up, her gaze landed on the smattering of springy blond hair covering his freckled forearm. His left arm was pinker than his right. He must have had his arm out the window as he drove. I do that too.
He looked up at her, a polite grin softening the censorious flick of his eyes over her grubby appearance. “Katrin, right?”
He stuck out his hand and Katrin lifted her gaze from his lips to his eyes, slamming into them and instantly mesmerized by their color: light blue like a summer sky. They’d be icy when he was angry, but right now they were warm, his skin crinkled with smile lines at the corners.
“Erik. Hi.”
As she took his hand, a current passed between them; maybe some static electricity from the carpet, or from Katrin rubbing her hands together; whatever caused it was irrelevant but they both felt the zap as they clasped hands.
“Oh!”
“Whoa.”
He looked surprised, then grinned. Neither recoiled or let go. If anything, they gripped a little tighter, palms flush, almost fused to one another. She stared at
