‘This looks great. Which way is it?’
‘Why don’t I take you? I can help with your bags.’
‘Are you sure? Don’t you have to man the office?’
He shook his head. ‘I can close for five minutes. It is no problem.’
‘Thank you.’ This time, she smiled widely. It transformed her face and made her blue eyes sparkle in a completely different way. Siggi found himself intrigued and desperate for her not to leave the office without him knowing he would see her again.
3
IRIS WAS BEGINNING to wonder whether it had been a mistake to beat such a hasty retreat from Hawaii. It felt like a new low to be standing in a tour office in Reykjavik trying to explain her credentials to an Icelandic man who obviously thought he was still in his twenties judging by the collar-length surfer dude hairstyle that would look more at home on Dylan. And now he was offering to accompany her to a hotel.
As it was, she was too tired to argue. It’d be nice to have some help with her bags. That was the only downside of travelling as much as she did; her whole life was in those bags and she couldn’t seem to travel light.
Siggi went through a door at the back of the small office and came back with his coat, which he pulled on, along with a knitted hat which frankly looked ridiculous.
‘Nice hat.’ She couldn’t help herself.
‘You think so? My boss’s wife knitted it for me.’ He tipped his head and shot her a resigned smile.
Iris thought she must be more jet-lagged than she felt because the fact he was wearing the hat so as to not hurt the feelings of the woman who made it for him, never mind what he looked like, was very endearing.
‘What can I say? It suits you.’
His blue eyes, a lighter shade than her own, seemed to hypnotise her for a second as his gaze locked onto hers. Then helooked away, breaking the spell, as he reached and picked up her holdall, landing it easily on his shoulder.
‘You can manage the case?’ he asked.
‘Yes, of course.’ Iris pulled her own coat and hat back on and wheeled the case back outside, waiting while Siggi locked the door before he led the way along the street.
‘I thought it was supposed to be spring,’ she said, having to turn her head to stop the wind from hitting her square in the face.
‘Yes, it is. This is good weather for Iceland. There has been no snow for two weeks.’
‘You still get snow in March?’
‘And April. It starts to warm up in May and then it is beautiful.’
Iris clutched at her hood with one hand as they turned a corner and the wind came from a different direction.
‘Here,’ said Siggi, standing aside to allow her to enter the building first.
‘Oh, that was close.’
‘It is a small city. Most things are close.’
The foyer was bright and modern but welcoming, with a gently trickling water feature that would be at home in a high-end spa, right in the middle.
Siggi went up to the woman on the desk and said something to her in Icelandic. She picked up a phone and spoke into it, all the time giving Siggi the dirtiest look Iris had ever seen.
‘She is just calling Anders,’ he said.
‘I don’t mind checking in. You don’t have to get your friend involved. You’ve done enough already. Honestly, thank you, but there’s no need.’
At that moment, a man who Iris assumed to be Anders came through a door behind the reception desk.
‘Hæ, Siggi!’he said.
