What Were You Expecting? (18 page)

“I think you’re lowering the bar so that when you present someone marginally appropriate, he gives it a shot.”

“How rude! You certainly have a low opinion of me,” she teased.

“Not at all,” he said, looking up at her. “I know that women can’t stand to see a bachelor.”

“It’s in our nature to pair you off.”

Nils nodded, looking at her, the irony of their situation making the air suddenly thick and meaningful between them.

Her cheeks finally flushed and as she took a sip of her coffee, he stared at her for an extra beat, at her pink freckled cheeks and delicate strawberry-blonde eyelashes. Tonight had felt so normal, so much like the easy, teasing relationship he’d always shared with her, he’d almost forgotten about the green-card marriage. His longing for her, familiar and throbbing like a constant ache, was something he could handle, something he’d handled for years. It was the circumstance of marrying her that had confused things in his mind. And as he stared at her, he realized that his feelings for her were so deep and so possessive, he wasn’t going to be able to hold out against the strength of them much longer. The overwhelming urge to reach out to her—to touch her, to take from her, to be with her, to belong with her—was so alive inside of him, it felt like heat, like his blood was on fire with the force of it.

The problem was that wanting Maggie didn’t change two important facts: He couldn’t give her what she wanted, and even if he could, he didn’t have a right to it.

“Tonight was fun,” she said softly, tilting her head like all of the Lindstroms and grinning at him. “But it’s time to close up. Give me a hand?”

“What about him?” he lifted his chin, gesturing to Beck, still installed at the bar.

Maggie took a deep breath and sighed. “Give me a minute.”

He watched the sway of her slim hips as she walked over to Beck with a gentle smile on her face. He knew the one…he’d seen her give it to men before. She was going to let Beck go. She was going to tell him—with her eyes and lips and the soft finality of her words—that he didn’t have a chance. She was going to tell him to go and when he asked why, she was going to look over meaningfully at Nils who could offer her…nothing.

The moment Maggie had started toward him, Beck looked up and trained a toothpaste commercial smile on her. She’d essentially blown him off all night to play euchre with Nils, but Beck had waited. He liked her. He must
really
like her.

And that’s when Nils felt it: a feeling so sharp and bitter, he wanted to fight it, but couldn’t, because his heart whispered these words:
If you love her, get out of the way. Let her be with Beck. He’s smart and successful. He’s been kind to her. He’s proving himself worthy. You have no right to stand in the way of her happiness.

It ached and twisted to acknowledge the truth, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Before he lost his will, he jumped up from the table, heading for the door. As he got there, Maggie called out. “Nils! Wait! You’re not leavin’?”

He heard the disappointment in her voice, the confusion. It made his heart clench with profound sadness, but in a strange, unexpected way, it also felt good to do the right thing. It felt good not to be selfish. He stopped with his hand on the door handle, fixing an easy, polite smile on his face and looking up her. He shrugged. “Beck can give you a hand.”

“But…” Her face twisted and she held out her hand toward him. The hand he’d held. The hand that bore her wedding ring.

It took all the strength he had to nod once to Beck, holding onto his smile, and damn if Beck Westman didn’t seem to understand completely, his narrow eyes relaxing as he nodded slowly back at Nils.

“’Night, Nils,” he said.

“’Night, Mags. ’Night, Beck.”

Without looking back, Nils stepped out into the cool evening, his heart breaking a little more with every heavy step that took him away from her.

***

“Well, Beck Westman! What a surprise!” greeted Mr. Lindstrom, approaching Beck and Maggie and extending his hand in greeting. “There you are! You’ve come with our Maggie, have you? How nice. Um, welcome! Welcome to
Midsommardagen
supper.”

Maggie smiled gratefully at Nils’s father as she leaned forward and accepted a kiss on the cheek. “I hoped you wouldna mind.”

“More the merrier at
Midsommar
, Maggie May,” he said thoughtfully, catching and holding her eyes. He was dumb like a fox, Mr. Lindstrom. He knew something was up. Putting his arm around Beck’s shoulders, he led him toward the table that held a metal tub of beverages icing in the middle. “You like Swedish beer, Beck?”

Paul sidled up beside Maggie, elbowing her in the ribs. “Really?”

She shrugged, having a hard time meeting Paul’s glare. “He wanted to come.”

“You want to get him killed?”

“So dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes and taking in the festive setup on Mr. Lindstrom’s front lawn.

Four picnic tables had been pushed end to end to end to accommodate the twenty or thirty guests, and covered with white paper tablecloths. Jelly jars lined the table acting as both decoration and paperweights. Half contained yellow and blue wildflowers cut from Mrs. Lindstrom’s
Midsommar
garden and the other half had votive candles set in sand on the bottom of the jars. They weren’t lit yet, but later the glow from the jars would create a warm and intimate atmosphere for everyone seated at the picnic tables for supper once the sun finally started to set.

Maggie looked to her left, toward the park where the mountains were backlit by a sun that still had two hours of daylight to share, and saw a massive bonfire built on the edge of the front lawn, ready to be lit after dinner. Comfortable chairs and blankets were scattered around the ring of heavy stones welcoming guests to linger until the sun came up.

Closer to the house, she could hear merry Swedish folk music and noticed the massive grill set up with Lars at the helm, the smell of grilling meats and sausages making Maggie’s mouth water. There would also be herring, herring, and more herring, of course, potato salad, Swedish cheeses, various breads, and smoked salmon. And always for dessert, Kringla cookies in the shape of eternity symbols with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

Midsommardagen
was—hands down—Maggie’s favorite annual event, and no one did it better than Carl Lindstrom.

She did a brief perimeter search for Nils, but her heart dropped traitorously when she didn’t see him.

“Dramatic?
I’m
being dramatic?” asked Paul, poking her in the ribs. “You’ve
met
the Lindstrom brothers, right?”

Aye, she’d met them. And when she watched one of them—the one she was married to, in fact—walk away from her on Thursday night to leave her with Beck, something inside of her had snapped. As the door swung closed behind Nils, she’d fixed a bright smile on her face and invited Beck to be her date tonight, a decision she wasn’t regretting…yet.

“Tall? Blond? Stubborn? Aye. Rings a bell.” She took a deep, shaky breath and sighed. “Is he here?”

“Not yet. Tour ran late.” Paul pursed his lips at Maggie, furrowing his brows as he looked at her. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you two?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maggie, it’s
me
.”

“Paul, it’s…
complicated.
”

“You two have been weird for a month now. Then it seemed okay on Thursday night— back to normal. Now you show up here with Beck. I can’t figure out what’s going on, but my male intuition tells me it’s going to end badly.”

Maggie looked over at Beck in his sharply creased khaki pants, a yellow sweater tied casually around his shoulders. He looked out of place, yet his body language was easy as he tipped back his beer, chatting with Mr. Lindstrom. For the hundredth time, she wished she could fall in love with him. How she wished her heart wasn’t taken.

“Dinna be ridiculous. Nils and I are just—”

“Friends? Like hell.”

“Ask him yourself. Friendship is all he wants from me. He’s made that clear more than once.”

“Maybe that’s what he says…but it’s certainly not what I see.”

“Please, Paul.” Maggie put her hand on Paul’s arm, looking up into his blue eyes beseechingly as hers watered with longing and despicable, implacable hope. “I canna bear it.”

Then she turned away from him and smiled at Beck, who popped the top off a Swedish beer, holding it out to her with a grin.

***

Eight-thirty
, Nils thought, glancing at his watch as he drove under the arch, back into Gardiner, headed for the Best Western where he’d drop off his group of five. Looking straight ahead, he could just make out the glow of his father’s bonfire as the sun started to set on the horizon. Bonfire already started. He frowned. He’d be good and late to the festivities.

Maybe that was for the best, though. Less time with Maggie. She was probably sitting there right now on a picnic bench between his Dad and Lars, waiting for him to show up. How was he supposed to withstand those hopeful, disappointed green eyes?

Honestly, Nils was at a loss about what to do except stay away from her. He knew she had feelings for him, and after admitting that he hadn’t been honest with Tess, she could assume he did, too. But, he’d also been clear with her that a future was patently impossible, so she really had no choice but to move on, right? And Beck seemed like a good man. He had a good job. Didn’t have a reputation for womanizing. And damn if he wasn’t persistent, hanging around her for weeks now. At least
he
could offer her something.

Nils pulled into the motel parking lot, stopped in front of the reception area, and exited the van to open the sliding door for the Parker family. The mother and three teenage children hopped out, thanking Nils and chattering about the hot tub as they hurried toward their room. Mr. Parker stopped in front of Nils for a moment, extending his hand.

“Excellent tour, Nils. Thank you.”

Nils smiled politely, shaking hands with the man he’d just spent the better part of two days and nights accompanying through the park. “My pleasure, Mr. Parker. I hope you’ll consider us again if you return to Yellowstone. My brother is an ace at ferreting out the wildlife. Sorry we didn’t see much today.”

“We saw plenty, son. And I don’t have any plans to be back this summer, but we have some friends heading west in two weeks. I think I’ll give them your name. Have time on your schedule in July?”

“Absolutely, sir. My father’s got a group for the whole month, so we’re down a guide, but between me and my brother, we’ll take care of your friend.”

“Name of Callahan. From Boston.”

“Callahan. I’ll keep an ear out for them, sir.”

“That’s just fine, Nils.” He put his hand into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, taking out a $100 bill and folding it before offering it to Nils. “Thanks again.”

Nils took the tip and nodded once before saying good-bye and turning back to the van. He checked his watched again.
Eight-fifty.
He turned the van back toward his father’s place, steeling himself for Maggie’s pleading smile even as his mouth watered for cold beer and herring.

***

Maggie smiled with the rest of the guests as Mr. Lindstrom recalled last summer’s
Midsommardagen
celebration at the Triple Peak Lodge when Jenny had announced the news that his first grandchild was on the way.

“There’s naught better in the world than a granddaughter, folks!” He raised his glass and thirty other raised arms joined him in toasting. “Skål!”

“Were you there?” asked Beck softly, turned slightly to face her in the candlelight, as other guests resumed their dinner and conversations.

Lars, Paul, and Mr. Lindstrom had just walked the length of the tables with lighters, picking up the jelly jars and lighting the votives. Candlelight cast a warm glow over the festivities, as guests filled up on the bounty offered at the extensive
midsommarbord
, or
midsommar
table.

“I wasn’t,” said Maggie. “I was invited, but I was short-staffed at the café…and they’re kind to me, the Lindstroms, but I horn in enough.”

“I doubt they see it that way,” said Beck, placing his beer bottle back on the table and grinning at her. “I can’t imagine anyone getting tired of your company. Especially me.”

Her cheeks flushed at his compliment. “You’re sweet to me, Beck.”

“If you’d give me a chance, I could be more than just sweet, Maggie Leslie.”

Maggie shivered lightly and Beck’s hands went immediately to the knot on his sweater to offer it to her. “You chilly?”

“I’m okay.”

He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. “If you won’t take my sweater, at least take my body heat.”