Quinn Haavik adjusted her right earbud as she rocked onto the balls of her feet to guide her skateboard in a lazy arc around a cluster of teenagers in baggy hoodies and ripped jeans. Once clear of the crowd that clogged the center of the boardwalk, she bobbed her head with the beat as she shifted her weight onto her right leg to push off strongly with her left.
With Christmas only a week and a half away, it was strange to be looking at miles of sandy shoreline instead of piles of snow. But as she dragged a hand through her short, pale blond hair and closed her ice blue eyes against the hazy, late-afternoon sun to bask in its warmth against her skin, she had to admit that it was pretty fucking awesome. She pushed off again to gather more speed and settled her weight over the center of the longboard, content to cruise as she pulled off the lightweight, long sleeve running shirt that she wore over her t-shirt.
Seventy-two and sunny in December. God, I needed this.
She tied the shirt around her waist as she swung around a woman walking beside a blissfully happy golden retriever who was carrying its own leash, and had just finished knotting it when her board was knocked from under her, and she was sent flying. Her brain had barely enough time to shout,Oh, fuck a duck!before her palms were scraping across the concrete in a painful bid to arrest her fall, and she gritted her teeth as she tucked and tumbled into a roll to save what was left of her hands.
“OH MY GOD, I’M SO SORRY!” an accented voice shouted in horror. Followed immediately by a frantic, “FORT, NO!”
Quinn winced as she crunched into a sitting position. “It’s fine,” she said as she glanced at her hands. The skin was rubbed raw, and she’d be feeling it for the next few days, but given how hard she’d hit, it could have been worse. Still…
That’s going to make work tomorrow interesting.
She sighed and hooked her elbows over her knees as she looked around for her board. “Have you seen my—”
She cut herself off. There was no reason to finish the question, because the blissfully happy golden retriever was now engaged in an energetic game of tug of war with his mom for possession of her skateboard.
“Fort, drop it!” the woman snapped as the dog threw its head from side to side in perfect counterpoint to its wiggling butt and yanked her forward.
Quinn chuckled, her stinging palms forgotten as she watched the pair. Her laughter caught in her throat, however, when the woman looked at her with apology written clear across her face.
Oh, she’s lovely.
The woman was petite, only a handful of inches over five feet at most, with light, golden-brown hair that carried hints of copper, fair skin, cheeks dusted with the faintest dusting of freckles, and full rosy lips. She reminded Quinn of a Rossetti painting she’d seen while visiting Tate Britain on her last trip to London, but before she could ponder which one, the pup, Fort, took advantage of the woman’s distracted state to rip the skateboard from her hands.
“Dritt!” the woman swore as Fort scampered off with his prize.
Quinn smiled as she climbed to her feet and watched the woman chase after Fort, who, having gained some measure of freedom, had dropped the skateboard and was now trying to climb on top of it. It’d been ages since she’d heard that particular swear word. Even in northern Minnesota, she didn’t happen upon too many Norwegians speaking the language.
“Aww, it’s fine. Give them a turn,” Quinn called in Norwegian. The surprise on the woman’s face as her head snapped back to look at her waspriceless, and Quinn grinned as she gestured toward the dog, who had managed to get all four feet on the long deck and was looking distinctly confused as to why the skateboard wasn’t moving. She switched back to English as she suggested, “I think they need a push.”
“He needs something, all right,” the woman grumbled as she rolled her eyes at the pup. She swiped the end of his leash off the ground and slipped the loop over her wrist. “Fort, come on now. Get down.”
Fort gave her a look that said,Yeah, right, as he tensed his hind legs and ducked his shoulders down a bit as if that change in body position would make him zoom forward.
The woman brushed her hair out of her face. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Quinn laughed as she moved toward the pair. “He reminds me of my friend’s malamute.”
Fort’s tongue fell out of his mouth as he turned to give her a big doggy smile. “Woof.”
“Yeah, you’d love her,” Quinn told him. She propped her fists on her hips. “You wanna go for a ride?”
“WOOF!”
“You really don’t have to—”
“It’s fine,” Quinn insisted with her most charming smile as she held her hand out for Fort’s leash.
For a moment, Quinn thought the woman would refuse, but she eventually relented with a wry chuckle, muttering, “Lykke til,” as she handed it over.
Quinn winked at her before turning her attention to Fort. “Aww, we don’t need luck. Do we, buddy?”
Fort wagged his tail. “Woof!”
“Exactly!” Quinn agreed, grabbing him by the sides to steady him. The last thing she wanted was for the adorable, goofy pup to get hurt. “You’re going to be a natural at this. I just know it,” she said as she gave the skateboard a gentle nudge.
Fort let out a delighted bark as he rolled forward a few feet. He looked unmistakably annoyed when his ride ended, and threw her a look that pleaded,Again!
