It happened right around Midsommardagen.
Your father slipped and called me Älskling.
His sweetheart.
EPILOGUE
One year later
Lars Lindstrom woke up with a start, fumbling with the pull-cord on the lamp beside him to brighten the dark room. He jerked himself into a sitting position, taking a deep breath, rubbing his eyes. He twisted his wrist to look at the time: 4:45 a.m. Early.
“That was some dream,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head and swinging his legs over the side of the bed in his brother, Erik’s, guest room. His feet touched the floor and he rose out of bed, completely naked, and padded to the en suite bathroom. Erik had insisted on bathrooms in every bedroom at Paradise Two, his new house, south of Kalispell. Lars had given him a hard time about it initially, but he had to admit, privacy had its benefits.
He relieved himself, then started the shower, running his hands through his blond hair as he slipped into the warm water, turning his thoughts back to the dream that had worked him up.
He’d been in the park with a girl. She had shoulder-length, brown curly hair, though he’d never seen her face in the dream. She’d been walking in front of him, in the misty morning, wearing a pink poodle skirt, like from the 1950s. He’d reached out to take her arm, and moss-green eyes—the only clear feature in an otherwise blurry face—had captured his as he pulled her close for a kiss. In the distance, ethereally, he’d heard the soft sound of the Beach Boys singing “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” as he lowered his mouth to hers. She’d sighed, parting her lips as she ran her hands through his hair, and he’d swept his tongue into her mouth, the wet heat of it making him as hard as a rock.
Even now, the effects of the dream were holding on to his body. Rampantly.
He braced his hands against the shower wall, letting the water slide down his back. He never had dreams that clear, that visceral. It felt real. Really real. What did it mean?
“Probably just need some company,” he said, rinsing the shampoo from his hair.
Lars was never short on female company.
“Park girls,” female tourists who breezed through Gardiner en route to Yellowstone, were plentiful. And before Erik had met Katrin Svenson and married her last fall, he’d been Lars’s favorite wingman.
Those days were over, he thought, finishing his shower and drying off. And coming up to Bigfork for visits wasn’t really the same. Especially since the twins arrived last month. Still, he’d been glad to spend Friday night with his exhausted brother and sister-in-law, and meeting Dagmar and Heidi, his tiny nieces, was surreal.
Lars got dressed quickly and packed up his bag, careful to make the bed so Katrin wouldn’t have extra work on her hands. He needed to hit the road if he was going to make it south in time for a noon pickup at the airport in Bozeman. Lindstrom & Sons, where Lars worked as a tour guide with his father and older brother, had a big job starting today.
He opened the door to his room and edged out into the hall only to find Erik and Katrin walking back and forth up and down the hallway in bathrobes, each with a twin in their arms. Erik’s tired eyes flew open as he made the universal gesture for “Shhhhh,” pressing one finger up to his lips.
“Just got ‘em back to sleep,” he whispered over one small blond head.
“I gotta take off,” said Lars, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. “Pick up in Bozeman at noon. Big group.”
“Who you got comin’ in?” asked Erik, who used to work as a guide with his brothers.
“Who’s coming today doesn’t matter. It’s who’s coming in on Tuesday. You won’t believe it.”
“Who?” asked Erik, bloodshot eyes curious.
“Samara Amaya.”
“THE Samara Amaya?” Kat stopped pacing, her heavy-lidded eyes focused on Lars. “The supermodel?”
Lars nodded, smiling at his pretty sister-in-law. “Yup. She’s comin’ in on Tuesday for a photo shoot.”
“Hot damn, Lars,” murmured Erik. “You get all the luck.”
Kat elbowed her husband in the side, giving him a sour look.
“Not that I’d trade Paradise Two and its three lovely ladies for all the supermodels in the world,” he quickly added.
Kat’s lips tipped up into a pleased smile as she rolled her eyes at him. “Mine’s asleep.” She leaned up on tiptoes so Lars could kiss her cheek goodbye. “Travel safe, Lars. See you next weekend for the christening.”
Lars watched her make her way into the nursery before turning back to Erik. “Talk about luck.”
“Don’t look at my wife like that.” Erik’s eyes narrowed.
“Good thing I didn’t see her first,” Lars teased.
“If I wasn’t holding my daughter, I’d belt you and good, Midten.”
Lars grinned, reaching out to tousle Erik’s hair. “Thanks for having me up.”
“Thanks for making the trip.”
Lars turned to leave but was called back by Erik’s loud whisper. “Lars!”
“Huh?”
“Samara Amaya? Really?”
Lars chuckled softly, not wanting to wake up Dagmar, who slept soundly on her father’s shoulder.
“Not ‘til Tuesday. Today’s nothing. Just picking up her assistant to do a couple days of recon. Name’s, uh, Jane, I think. Jane something-or-other.”
Erik winked at Lars, giving him a knowing grin as he turned to follow Katrin.
“Jane, huh? Well, you never know, Lars. You never know…”
CHOOSE ME
Lars Lindstrom and Jane Mays’ story
Available June 2020
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