Damn Midsommardagen anyway! If they didn’t have to go home, they could just keep hanging out up in Kalispell, hidden from the prying eyes of their families, taking things one step at a time without the formality of labels. It would just add pressure to their situation and—he felt sure—would ruin the delicate simplicity of things between them.
He buffed one shoe and then the other, considering the situation as the brush whooshed back and forth across the stiff black leather.
Maybe they could suspend things during Midsommardagen, just until they got back north. Just act like friends in front of their families then pick things up when they got home. Sure. Why couldn’t they do that? They didn’t owe anyone explanations. They didn’t need to announce they were dating or boyfriend and girlfriend or in a relationship, all terms and conditions that made him genuinely shudder, and would complicate the family reunion.
They could promise not to touch each other, not to look for each other, not to give away their growing feelings. Keep their—whatever it was—private. Not a secret, per se, but private. It wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs, anyway, right? Maybe they could just act like nothing had happened between them. Nothing at all.
***
Katrin was still in her room getting ready when she heard the knock at the door downstairs. She stuck her head out of her room. “Paca! Can you let him in?”
Gabrielle peeked into Katrin’s room and beamed at her approvingly.
“Cooyah, dumplin’!” Then, flicking her eyes to the stairs where Erik waited. “De poor lamb.”
Katrin closed her bedroom door with a short chuckle then turned back to the mirror to take one last look at herself.
Her light blonde hair was shiny and straight, curled into a cute flip at the ends, held away from her face with a coffee-colored grosgrain hairband the same color of her dress. Her face was made up with a bit of eyeliner, mascara, a touch of bronzing powder and high-gloss lip goop in a very pale pinkish-copper color called Hot Spell. The size-four dress fit like a glove over her now-curvier chest and bottom, and the cream ribbon at the middle accentuated her tiny waist. She slipped her pedicured feet into her peep-toed heels, and turned around once, smiling at herself.
She could hear the din of conversation downstairs. Paca’s voice, low and musical, then José’s lightly accented tone…she held her breath and goose bumps rose up on her arm as she heard the rumble of Erik’s voice mixing with theirs. Her breath came out in a rush and she closed her eyes, feeling nervous, really excited but nervous, like a teenager going on her first date, her well-intentioned parents entertaining her suitor until she made her way downstairs.
Gabrielle poked her head back into Katrin’s room. “I got sometin’ for you, dumplin’.” With a flourish, she produced a bouquet of white roses.
Katrin’s eyes widened as a chill sluiced down her spine. She stared at the bouquet with undisguised revulsion. White roses. Wade. She tried to rationalize with her herself. No, Kat. No. They couldn’t possibly be from Wade; he was in rehab. Safely locked away at a rehab where he couldn’t hurt her. She concentrated on slowing down the pounding of her heart, rubbing her suddenly-icy hands together. “Erik brought them?”
“He walk in with them, yeah.” She’d been grinning at the blossoms, but now she looked at Katrin, cocking her head to the side as she noticed Katrin’s worried face. “What’s wrong? They so pretty, dumplin’!”
Katrin took a deep breath and smiled, forcing sour memories out of her head. She’d have to find a way to tell Erik she loved any flowers—all flowers—except for white roses.
“Will you put them in water for me, Paca? They’d look lovely on the reception desk downstairs. I’ll be down in two minutes.”
Gabrielle winked at her, taking the bouquet to the kitchen, and Katrin was happy to see them go. She couldn’t shake her leftover jitters, though. Were the white roses a bad sign? She saw Wade’s twisted, angry face in her mind. I’ll kill you first!
She took a deep breath then looked at herself in the mirror. Stop it, Katrin. They were from Erik. From Erik. Not Wade. Get a hold of yourself.
Looking at herself one last time in the mirror, she raised her chin in defiance of her fears, realizing that while they were still real and frightening, it was time to start letting go of them. Wade was in rehab. She lived far away from him, hidden in Skidoo Bay. And she had Erik—burly, protective Erik Lindstrom, her Viking King—keeping an eye on her. It was time to start living a life without fear.
“Well, Kat…it’s now or never. Time to go.” Her reflection smiled back more confidently than she felt, but she nodded at herself with determination, picked up her cream wrap from the bed and went to find Erik.
***
Katrin hadn’t told him a whole lot about her co-workers, but Gabrielle—um, Paca—wasn’t exactly what he had expected. With her wildly colorful headband, riotous black curls, and wide, open smile, he felt immediately comfortable with her.
When he arrived, he had handed her the bouquet of flowers he’d obtained in an awkward exchange out front, and she beamed at him, running upstairs to tell Katrin he was here, before he could admit they weren’t from him.
As Erik had approached the front door of the clinic, he’d seen a man standing at the front door, shifting his weight from side to side, looking
