What Were You Expecting? (20 page)

Yes, he
said
he only wanted to be her friend, but all the while she watched him fight their attraction to each other with every ounce of strength.

She thought about Nils, who he was, what she knew of him. Over the years she’d learned actions spoke louder than words with Nils. They always had. Before his short speech on the attic stairs, he’d never admitted that he cared for her aloud and yet he was always there for her—when she was drunk and needed someone to walk her home, when something broke at her shop and needed fixing, for God’s good sake, when she’d needed someone to marry her for a green card. He’d showed her how much he cared about her before he’d ever said the words.

So, what is he showing you now?
she asked herself.

She thought of his eyes as he caught hers on Saturday night, the joyful, hungry way he’d captured her face, followed by fury when he’d noticed Beck’s hand. The way he’d seized her wrist on the stairs, holding it as he bent his head to kiss her then stopped himself. He’d done the same thing in the attic. Stopped himself. That was it. He kept stopping himself from touching her, being with her, loving her, giving them a chance.

Why? Why wouldn’t he give into it? Why did he deny himself when it was so clear he had feelings for her?

As she sorted out her thoughts and feelings over the week following
Midsommardagen
, she became more and more certain that there was something—or someone—significant standing between them. It was the reason he kept nudging her toward Beck. It was the reason he kept her at arm’s length.

She rinsed out the plunger from the French press she used for decaf espresso, lazily running her hands over the slick stainless steel as she ruminated. Friday afternoon summer sun streamed into the windows of the quiet café. Should she confront him? She grimaced as the words formed in her head:

I know you want me as much as I want you…
Yuck. No. Too self-assured.

I know your mouth is sayin’ you only want to be friends, but your eyes are sayin’ you want—
Ugh. No way. It sounded like the worst pickup line ever.

I know you almost kissed me on the stairs at your Dad’s house…
What if he looked at her in shock and denied it all as he had to Tess? How would she bear the humiliation? She shook her head in defeat.

Man of action. He’s a man of action
. The words circled in her head and suddenly her eyes widened and she knew the answer to her conundrum even before the idea solidified in her head. Of course. The key to cracking Nils wasn’t conversation, it was action. And if
he
wouldn’t make the first move, that only left one option…

“Hey! Where do you have to go to get a good cup of coffee around here anyway?”

Maggie looked up, her thoughts scattering and a smile taking over her face to find Jenny Lindstrom—er, Kelley—standing in the doorway of the Prairie, holding baby Erin in her arms.

“Right here!” she exclaimed, hurrying around the corner of the counter and running to embrace her friend. “Och, Jen! It’s good to see you! And here’s Erin, so bonny!”

Jenny was as tall and blonde as ever, her long hair braided back into a tail and her body almost totally recovered from Erin’s birth six months ago. Maggie raised her eyes to see Sam over her shoulder
. Damn, but some girls have all the luck.

“Heya, Maggie,” he greeted her affectionately, his brown eyes sparkling.

“Heya, Sam. How’s it feel to be a father?”

“Like a duck to water. Don’t know what I ever did without these two troublemakers.”

Jenny turned to look at her husband in indignation. “Troublemakers? We’re the troublemakers?
We
weren’t the ones dating supermodels and—”

He chuckled at her. “Weather girls. Get your facts straight.”

Jenny grinned back at him then turned to Maggie. “Want to hold her?”

“Of course I do! Give her to me!”

Jenny carefully transferred the sleeping infant from her arms to Maggie’s, smiling at her friend once the baby was settled. “Mind if I make coffee for me and Sam?”

Maggie looked up, blissful with the weight of Erin against her, her own heart longing for one of her own someday. Someday.

“You remember where everythin’ is?”

“I spent many an evening here crying into my coffee, Mags. I think I do.”

“Who was she crying over?” asked Sam, winking at Maggie.

“A
troublemaker
who blew into town from Chicago,” Jenny said, over her shoulder as she headed around the counter.

Maggie edged carefully into a barstool, staring down at Erin’s perfect little fingers with paper-thin fingernails that clutched the blanket wrapped around her. Maggie leaned down and breathed in the singular scent of baby, closing her eyes to savor the moment. She barely heard the bell over the door ring.

“Nils!” exclaimed Jenny, running back around the counter to launch herself into her older brother’s arms. “You got my text!”

Maggie looked up to watch the reunion, Nils’s face breaking into the same delighted, unguarded smile he’d offered her on Saturday night over candlelight. Sure, the heat was missing from this one, but the intent was the same. Jenny was someone on his short list, just like Maggie.

The realization boosted her fragile courage and she’d take whatever extra she could get. She’d already decided what she needed to do. She just needed to figure out when.

Maggie turned to Sam, who stood beside her, and nudged him. “Take her for me? I’ll make the coffee.”

Sam gently took Erin back, but not before Maggie lifted her eyes to find Nils staring at her as she cuddled his niece. Several emotions passed across his face: hope, happiness, awe…and finally, regret. He looked away, back at Jenny, who stood before him.

“Got here safely?”

“As you see,” she answered. “Erik and Kat here yet?”

Nils shook his head. “Erik said not to expect them until dinnertime or later. Something about stopping to pee every half hour, but damned if I know what he’s talking about.”

Jenny chuckled softly as Maggie took four colorful mugs off the shelf and started filling them with coffee. “She’s seven months pregnant with twins, Nils. Have a heart.”

“You know I don’t understand a lick of that women’s stuff, Jen.”

“Someday you might,” said Jenny, and though Maggie had her back to them, she felt Jenny’s eyes boring into the back of her head. She wished, for a moment, she could give the younger woman a good smack on her backside. The last thing Maggie and Nils needed this weekend was more teasing.

“Mamma
always kept that lady business between you and her,” Nils retorted, sitting down at the counter. When Maggie turned around, his cheeks were bright pink with embarrassment.

“Always wondered if that was a mistake,” mused Jenny, taking a seat beside him.

“Jenny, give him a break,” sighed Sam, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at his wife.

“Always liked you Sam,” said Nils, taking the coffee from Maggie, his eyes seeking hers across the copper bar. When his finger grazed hers it sent a jolt of heat through her whole body. “Always liked you a lot.”

She kept her eyes locked with his for an extra beat. The next time they were alone together, she would make her move.

***

Nils had to return to the office after coffee, but they had all agreed to meet back at the Prairie at eight o’clock to start setting up for the party. In the meantime, Jenny and Sam had gone back to his Pop’s house to settle Erin for a nap. His Pop had agreed to babysit for her this evening so that Jenny and Sam could have a “date night,” which was good. They didn’t want him suddenly showing up at the Prairie Dawn looking for a cup of coffee and ruining the surprise.

The hours went by slowly as he waited for eight to roll around. He fielded one call from the McCarthy group, who wondered if they could get started tomorrow instead of Sunday, but with the party tomorrow, Nils insisted the tour would need to start on Sunday as planned. They reconciled all of the June accounts and reviewed all of the July tours that Nils and Lars would be taking care of single-handedly while Pop took care of the McCarthys for the entirety of July. His father headed home at six o’clock and even though Nils was anxious to get out of the office and itchy to see Maggie, he dreaded the inevitable war that waged inside of him every time he did.

He’d almost kissed her twice: once in the attic last weekend and once at the top of the stairs on Saturday. Damn, but his attraction to her, which he didn’t think could possibly get any stronger, had strengthened since their wedding, and he was having a tougher and tougher time fighting against his longing for her, the sharp ache of want that accompanied every meeting now.

The only thing that managed to squelch his passion were memories of Veronica, but even those recollections seemed to be losing their vibrancy, their hold on him. And he was desperate to keep them alive, because without them—without the potent reminder of how he’d destroyed someone’s life, of what he’d lost—he’d be in jeopardy of making the same mistakes again. The very thought of Maggie meeting Veronica’s tragic end twisted his heart so painfully, it left him breathless. Better to have her safe and fight against his feelings than be weak and give into them.

The buzzing of his cell phone broke his trance, and he looked down at his desk to see a text message from Maggie.

Any chance you can come early to finish the slideshow?

He took in the neat, quiet office with one sweeping glance. When?

Now? I have the pictures scanned, but need your help captioning them.

He grimaced. Without Jenny and Sam there as a buffer, he worried about being alone with Maggie. His self-control was running on fumes. But, his conscience tried to convince him otherwise:
She’s done all this work for your Pop’s party. The least you can do is give her a hand when she asks. Stop being a selfish ass.

I’ll come over in 10 min,
he responded.

Gr8. I’ll say good-night to Beck and close up now.

Nils felt his lips purse and his eyes narrow as he stared at the text. Beck. Fucking Beck. Jealousy made his cheeks hot as he closed up the office in double time. The mere thought of Maggie with Beck was enough to reduce Nils to a caveman who wanted to throw Maggie over his shoulder, lock her in his bedroom and have his way with her, whatever the goddamn consequences. The thought of Beck made Nils reckless.

He grabbed his phone and shoved it in his pocket, hurrying to the Prairie and vaulting up the stairs to Maggie’s apartment where she was already waiting for him without a sign of Beck. An hour later they were still working through the slides, putting them in order and captioning them.

Torture. That’s the only word he could use to describe the close proximity of her body to his as they sat side by side on her living room floor with her laptop open on her lap and a throw pillow on his. He’d grabbed the pillow from the couch behind them as his dick turned to stone in the first five minutes of sitting beside her.

Her strawberry shampoo, light and taunting, made his breath catch every time she moved her head slightly, and every time she bent her elbows to type, she grazed his waist. It was becoming more and more painful, and yet if he left her side, he wouldn’t be able to look at the pictures with her, defeating the whole point of him being there in the first place. Best just to struggle through and get out of there as soon as possible.

“And this one?” she asked, turning her head slightly to catch his eyes with hers. She moved his leg slightly and it brushed against his.

He tried to hide the way his body tensed and purposely stared at the photo and not her. “Oh, yeah. That’s Jenny and Pop entering the father-daughter fish-off at Upper Slide.”

Maggie’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed the caption then clicked on the next photo, wiggling her hips just enough to graze his. His breath hitched for a second.

“Is this you?” Maggie asked softly, staring at the screen, touching it gingerly with her fingers.

Nils leaned his head to the side a little, careful not to touch hers, but she leaned hers at the same time, and her soft hair caressed his cheek. He held his breath to see if she’d draw away, but she didn’t. His whole body felt like a finely tuned instrument, ready to be touched, ready to be played. He glanced at the picture, trying to ignore her, ignore his body, ignore his lust and raging hard-on.
Look at the picture. Look at the picture, damn it.

It was a black and white photo of a little boy who smiled down at the baby on his lap.

“Me and Jenny-girl,” he responded.

“How old were you?”

“I was six. She was new.”

“New?”

“Mmm. She’d just come home. I think I was pretty sure she was
my
baby. Prettiest little thing I’d ever seen.”