“What would you like?” he asks.
“Oh, you don’t have to…”
“Esme.” It’s the first time he’s used my name, and the sound of it in his raspy voice stops me dead. It’s like a caress, a kiss, a hug, something warm and tender, and filthy all at once… “Get whatever you want.”
I gulp, nodding like a rag doll. Then I order a vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso. Of course, Sven orders a black coffee the size of my head, and after a pause he adds in his gruff tone: “and one of those.” He points to the pastry case at a flaky, buttery, glazed thing that looks freaking delicious.
“For you,” he adds when I look up at him.
“Oh, I don’t need…”
“You looked at it.”
Oh, right… I did. I looked at it for half a second, and this huge, terrifying, supposedly stone-cold alphaclockedthat brief glance and bought me the pastry without missing a beat… Something in my chest goes warm and stupid and dangerous…
We stand by the counter while they make our drinks, and we’re close… He’s so big that any space around him feels small, and I’m almost tucked against him without even meaning to. And, fuck me, this close his scent is fuckingeverything,cedar and smoke and that dark, warm thing… No AC, no open library floor or vast conference room, just him, filling my head until I have to remind myself to breathe through my mouth.
“You’re from California,” he says gruffly. And I realize the poor bastard is trying to make small talk.
“Yes, Oakland.” I smile up at him, wrapping my hands around my warm drink.
“That’s far. You have friends here? Family?”
I look up at him, still grinning, and shake my head.
He nods once. “Moving somewhere alone. Starting new. That’s brave.”
Wow, nobody’s said that to me. Not my family, not my friends. Everyone said,are you sure?Andthat’s so far!But this terrifying guy I just met yesterday realizes this is the bravest, scariest thing I’ve ever done. I have to look down at my coffee so my face doesn’t do something embarrassing. Like smile so big my cheeks hurt. Spoiler: I already am…
“Thanks,” I mutter.
He just nods, and we drink our coffee by the window with the whole town pretending not to watch us through the glass. We’re both quiet, and it’s the least quiet silence I’ve ever felt in my life; my body’s humming, every place his arm almost brushes lighting up like a live-wire.
When we walk back to work, his hand finds my back again at the curb, then it drops when we reach the library steps.
He looks at me for one more second with his deep brown eyes, and I think for one insane heartbeat that he’s going to say something, do something… But then he just nods, turns, and walks back inside.
I stand on the steps holding my latte and the pastry I didn’t ask for, with the whole block still sneaking looks at me, wondering,What the hell just happened?
Four
Sven
I catch myself smiling somewhere around the third mile to my parents’, just… smiling, at nothing, into the dark and the trees and the headlights, Pickle snoring in the passenger seat with his chin on my thigh. And I can’t seem to stop.
She said she moved out here knowing nobody. I called it brave and watched her duck her head so I wouldn’t see her huge smile. I’ve been replaying it in my head all afternoon. The way she tucked into my side at the coffee counter. How her breath caught when I put my hand on her back.
One coffee. Twenty minutes, maybe. And I feel like someone cracked my fucking chest open and let warmth in.
Slow,I remind myself, taking the turn up to the house.You’re doing this right.But the smile’s still there, and I give up trying to kill it.
The compound is already loud when I park. Home is always loud. Seven brothers, and a gaggle of aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews will do that.
Every window’s lit up, there are too many trucks in the driveway to count, and you can hear the noise all the way up from the road.
I let Pickle down, and he trots ahead of me toward the door, blind eye and all.
Inside, it’s absolute chaos, same as always. My mother’s at the stove with a couple of other family members. My brothers, Torin and Bjorn, are arguing about something at the counter. Kase’s carrying one of our nieces on his shoulders. Rolf and Dain are sprawled in the den playing cards with some cousins. Vidar is sweet-talking Mom for an early plate and getting his hand smacked with a spoon. I shake my head, feeling my mouth tug at the side.
