“Having fun over there?” I hear Anders call out from down the barn.
“I think so!” I yell back, trying to get a better grip on the bottle.
Eventually though, the bottle is empty and the cow, the hair around its snout all white and my own hands a complete mess of cow slobber and milk, wants more.
“Now what?” I yell, the cow nudging me with its nose.
Anders appears at the stall door, grinning at the sight of me.
“You get out of there,” he says. “Before…”
The cow stomps forward, headbutting me in the hip. I yelp and try to get out of the way but my feet tangle in the straw and I’m falling. I hit the ground and roll over just as the cow starts nibbling at my hair.
“Ahhh!” I yell as she tugs at a strand.
I swat at the calf, trying to get away, just as I feel Anders beside me, his hands going underneath my arms and hauling me up to my feet.
“Are you okay?” he asks me, stepping between me and the ornery cow.
My hair is a mess, all in my face, and he gently brushes it off my eyes, tucking it behind my ears. I’m both swooning a little at his touch and acutely embarrassed over what just happened. It doesn’t help that Anders looks like he’s about to burst out laughing.
“I’m fine,” I tell him quickly, glaring at the cow who is poking her head around Anders, apparently not done with me. “But I think it’s fair to say farm life isn’t for me.”
He picks a piece of straw out of my hair. “Are you sure?” He starts to smile. “You seem like a natural at it.” Then he bursts out laughing.
I hit him on the arm. “You never warned me I’d be attacked by a baby cow.”
“Hey, Gertrude Jr. can’t help it, you’re irresistible.”
“Oh shut up,” I tell him. “Are we done now?”
He’s still grinning at me. “Yeah, we’re done. If Astrid and Lise aren’t too hungover, there should be a big breakfast on the table.”
We leave the barn and I’m still picking hay off myself by the time we reach the house. Before we go inside though, Anders grabs my hand and squeezes it. The action takes me by surprise and freezes me in my tracks. The feel of his skin is nothing short of a hot, fiery spark.
“I just wanted to say thank you. Tusen takk,” he says.
“For what?” I ask, conscious that he’s still holding my hand. He’s peering at me so sincerely I’m not really sure what’s happening. My heart starts to pick up the beat, my mouth dry.
“For helping me,” he says. “It just…you know, I’ve never had anyone take an interest in what I do. I guess because what I do isn’t very exciting or interesting. Farming, fishing. It’s what everyone here does.” He looks away to the barn. “I have to say, when I came to America, this was the life I was escaping. Now I’m back here and…well, I guess what I’m trying to say is, this morning you made me feel like it’s not all a waste.” He swallows and squints at me.
I’m not sure what to say. I wasn’t expecting this. “Oh. Well, it was no problem. Aside from the cow attacking me.” He smiles at that. I want to tell him that I volunteered to help, not just because I felt a debt by being here, but because I wanted to see his daily life. I wanted to spend time with him, getting to know this Anders, the farmer, the family man.
I also want to tell him that he’s impressed me.
And I want to know more.
A lot more.
But the past has this way of creeping up on me, and even now, as we stand on the stoop of his farmhouse, the smell of bacon wafting from inside, I’m scared to get closer.
He doesn’t even know the half of it.
I pull my hand out of his and give him a quick smile. “Shall we get something to eat?”
He studies me for a moment, his eyes searching my face. I’m not sure what he’s looking to find.
Then he nods. “Absolutely. You’ll need your strength for when we do the afternoon milking.”
“Shut up,” I tell him, punching him lightly in the gut.
We step inside the house, laughing.
11
Shay Then
“Don’t be chicken,” Anders says to me.
Phhhf. We’re about to break into the community pool. I tell him to go ahead, to scale the fence before me, but he wants us to do it at the same time.
“I’m not chicken.” I glare at him playfully. Because I’m not. I’m the opposite. I’ll do whatever he says. He makes me feel invincible, unstoppable. Even in the cold of a late April night, standing in just my swimsuit, bare feet on concrete, I only feel the warmth of him at my side.
He’s watching me, grinning lazily, and takes a swig from the bottle of rum. Hands it to me. “Finish it off.”
I down it, trying not to cough it up, and lick my lips.
He mutters something in Norwegian, a glazed look coming over his eyes. He puts his hands into my hair, to the back of my head, and pulls me to him.
“Ever had sex in a pool?” he asks huskily.
My skin tingles from the question. I shake my head. “You know I’ve only slept with you.”
He grins and kisses me softly on the lips. “Just checking.” He nods at the fence. “Come on.”
He starts to climb and I follow suit. I’ve never scaled a giant chain-link fence before and it’s kind of scary. The wires are freezing and burn into the balls of my feet, the bottoms of my fingers. But I go up and up and up, fueled by my love for him and desperate for his affection.
The fact is, we haven’t had sex once in the
