What Were You Expecting? (31 page)

A shiver of pleasure went down her spine before she could stop it, and she looked over at Nils, in the driver’s seat to her left, wondering if he had any idea how deeply those three words had affected her. There were only three others she could think of that might possibly affect her more.

He caught her staring and winked at her, reaching out his right hand to her. She clasped it, entwining her fingers through his like she imagined a brand new wife would do. He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it gently before releasing it with a lopsided grin as he refocused his attention back on the road. Her stomach fluttered in response and she quickly looked out the window, catching the arch again in the side view mirror, no more than a small dot now.

She wouldn’t dare ask him after only a week, but was there any chance that his feelings for her, like hers for him, were coming into sharper focus now? Any chance that, like her, the playacting was feeling more and more real because more and more it wasn’t acting? After last night, she didn’t question his attraction to her anymore. Physically, he wanted her as much as she wanted him—that was clear—but, emotionally, he hadn’t opened up to her very much. He didn’t share his feelings for her, or tell her what she meant to him. It was hard for her to know if his actions were the result of their truce or backed up by actual, growing feelings for her.

And there were so many unasked questions and obvious problems between them that impeded any genuine progress toward happily ever after: Was he or was he not able to father children? On Tuesday night as they’d discussed her adoption over burgers, he had sensed that she had more to say on the topic of her own adoption, and he was right. What she wanted to say was that the deepest longing in her heart was to have biological children of her own someday. She’d never smiled into a face that shared her exact eye color or the funny dimple in the center of her chin. No one had ever told her brunette mother how much she and her daughter looked alike, because they didn’t. When she looked at the faces of her parents and brother, there was no special recognition of her blood in communion with theirs. She was just Maggie, the adopted child, all alone.

She sighed, opening the cap of her own water bottle and taking a swig as her thoughts weighed down on her. In the backseat the Skinners were already exclaiming about the views as they trundled along the Grand Loop headed for Old Faithful. After a visit to the geyser, they’d head to Madison Campground where Nils and Maggie would set up the campsite and build a fire while the Skinners obtained a fishing license and tried their luck.

In the rearview mirror Maggie caught a look at the three boys, all tow-headed and blue-eyed in the backseat, and her heart clutched with longing. Maggie loved Nils with all her heart, but even if his feelings were changing from fake to real, it would take nothing less than his everlasting love for her to consider giving up her dreams.

***

Several hours later, after setting up the tents and cooking dinner over an open fire for the Skinners, Nils and Maggie sat around the campfire roasting marshmallows with the boys. Danielle and Tom Skinner snuggled on the ground against a log, sharing a blanket to ward off the cool evening air. The boys exclaimed as their marshmallows caught on fire and watched the tiniest embers take flight as bright orange sparks trailed up into the sky.

Maggie sat beside Nils on a log and he glanced down to catch her trying to stifle a yawn behind her hand. She’d been a huge help today, making his job twice as fast and ten times as fun. He’d teased her when she put the wrong rods together for the boys’ tent and when she realized what she’d done wrong her freckled face exploded into cheerful giggles and she told him, “I’ve never built a bloody tent before, for goodness sake!”

All day he’d wanted to pull her up against him, hold her, touch her, kiss her, but he’d been careful to be reserved. He was working, after all, and it was already a risk to have Maggie here with him. He’d have to field all of the incoming calls at the office over the next few days once he returned to Gardiner just in case Tom Skinner called with questions or to thank him. He couldn’t risk anyone mentioning “Nils’s lovely wife, Maggie” to his father or brother.

He and Maggie had agreed not to tell his family about their little arrangement. His father, an old-fashioned man who held marriage in the highest possible regard, wouldn’t understand and would be very disappointed in them for misusing the institution. It was best for them to keep it all silent, until…until…

He glanced down at her again, watched her poke her marshmallow stick in the dirt pensively, and couldn’t help himself—he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the curve of his side, delightful shivers running down his arm as some stray hairs from her bun brushed his bicep. He leaned down and pressed his lips against her soft, reddish head, smoothed back in a bun, and closed his eyes for a moment, wishing that he’d done things differently, wishing he’d had the courage to date her properly and ask her to marry him in some romantic way that would have appealed to her. It’s not that he wasn’t grateful for how they’d ended up here together, but his Maggie deserved better. She should have had better than a green-card marriage and a reluctant groom. She deserved so much more than this.

He tightened his arm around her, feeling ashamed of himself, and yet the sweetness of Maggie was that she took what he offered, meager though it was, and rested her head against his shoulder, sighing in contentment. How in the world would he ever be entitled to someone as wonderful as Maggie? How could he change the past and prove to her that he was worthy?

When he looked up, Tom Skinner was watching them from across the fire.

“Remember the first few months, Dany?”

His wife nodded against his shoulder, smiling at them. “Of course I do. We fought like cats and dogs. Nothing like these two.”

“What’d you fight about, mom?”

“This and that. How your father hung his shirts on the floor. That he’d forget to call me when he was running late for dinner. That he never put the cap back on the toothpaste. Silly stuff.”

“Had to make up a lot…from all that fighting,” said Tom, and Danielle turned to peck him on the lips which received a loud moan of disgusted protest from their sons.

“Just wait,” said Tom. “You’ll be just like me and Mr. Lindstrom one day. Head over heels for a beautiful girl who ties you up so tight in knots, the only way to untangle is to tie the knot with her. Tell ’em, Nils.”

“Oh, uh…”

Maggie looked up at him, then, on the verge of laughter, her eyes bright and merry from the light of the fire. He could’ve looked at her forever. He’d never seen anything as beautiful as Maggie Lindstrom. Not ever. Not in his whole life.

“You can’t think about anything but her,” he started softly, staring into her eyes, speaking low against the snaps and crackles of the campfire. “All the time. As you’re walking to work. When you walk home. All through the day you’re thinking,
Maybe I’ll run into her. Maybe she’ll smile for me. Maybe this time I’ll work up the courage to ask her out.
And when you do bump into her, you can barely put words together because your heart’s about to beat out of your chest, and you know—you
know
—that if she’d give you a chance, if she’d just give you a chance, you could be everything she wanted, anything she wanted…just for a chance to be with her…”

***

Halfway through his monologue tears had filled her eyes and they streamed down her face now as she stared up at him, searching his eyes fiercely for answers to unasked questions. Was this true? Was this how he’d felt all of these years? Was it possible that he’d loved her quietly at the same time she’d been falling in love with him?

“Do you hear that?” Danielle Skinner demanded, elbowing Tom in the side. “Enjoy it, Maggie. You won’t hear words like that after twenty years together!”

Maggie swiped at her cheeks, looking at Danielle and chuckling softly. “He’s a smooth talker, my—my, uh, my husband.”

“I’ll say.” Danielle winked conspiratorially at her. “Boys! Time for bed!”

After groans of “Mom, do we have to?” the Skinner boys threw their roasting twigs in the fire and politely bid good-night to Nils and Maggie.

“Night, dear,” said Danielle knowingly to Maggie as she followed Tom to their tent. As the Skinners’ tents brightened colorfully from lantern light, Maggie realized she and Nils were alone.

“You don’t have to stay up,” he said softly. She could hear the uncertainty in his voice, and it occurred to her that he probably hadn’t meant to say as much as he did, or that he was unsure of how she’d respond to it. Or—her heart twisted a little—maybe it wasn’t true at all. Maybe it was all part of their truce to act married.

“What’s left to do?” she asked.

“I’ll throw sand on the fire. Pack up the food tight. Fold up the blankets. Fill up the water jugs. You go on to bed.” He hadn’t looked up at her and her brows furrowed, wondering what was wrong.

“It was beautiful,” she whispered. “What you said.”

After a long moment he looked up at her and his eyes were fraught with emotion as he whispered back. “It was true.” But he looked away quickly, frowning at the fire. “Maggie, I can sleep out here. Under the stars. I’m not a stranger to it. You can…have your privacy, if you want.”

She stared at his bowed head, wondering what in the heck was going on inside of it.
No
, she didn’t want him to sleep outside. She wanted him beside her. Though her nerves had gotten in the way here and there, all day she’d been waiting for the moment that they lay down side by side in the little green tent at the far corner of the campground. And now he was backing out. All because he’d shared a little too much emotion.

She glanced at the Skinners’ tent and grabbed his shirtsleeve, yanking him into the darkness on the other side of the van.

“Why?” she whispered angrily, her fingers curling into a fist with a bunch of his shirt trapped within. “Why are you offerin’ to sleep on the ground?”

He shook his head, looking miserable.

She bent her head, trying to catch his eyes. “You asked for a truce and I agreed. You backin’ out of that now?”

“No, I just…” He covered her hand with his, rubbing it gently until it relaxed and she released his shirt to lace her fingers within his. His eyes were regretful in the dim light. “You deserve so much better, Maggie May.”

“Better than what?”

“Than me. Than this. Than a green-card marriage to a—”

“Stop it!” she demanded in a fierce whisper. “Stop it now.”

She stepped closer to him and her breasts brushed against his chest. She stared at the light blue polo shirt in front of her, tightening her grip on his hand and relieved when he tightened his back.

“We’re not rewritin’ history here, Nils Lindstrom. I was in trouble. In big trouble, and my friend—my dear, carin’, concerned friend—came to my rescue. Like he always does, again and again. When my cappuccino maker breaks or my mail slips behind the counter or I’m about to fall off a bar stool and crack my head open. He comes to my rescue, and I am…” With her free hand she reached up to stroke his cheek and he tilted his head, leaning into the gentle pressure of her hand. “…I am
grateful
for him. I’m grateful for you. I’ve messed up your whole life, and you’ve—”

He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly to press his lips against her palm, making her gasp lightly.

“I’ve what?” he murmured, his breath hot on her hand, his voice thick and low.

“You amaze me,” she whispered.

“I want to deserve you,” he said softly.

“Then come to bed,” she responded as his lips moved hypnotically against her skin, nibbling, sucking, licking until she thought she’d faint from the simple pleasure of it. “Hold me while I fall asleep. That’s all I need.”

His lips brushed tenderly against the inside of her wrist and he locked his eyes with hers for a long moment and then nodded, stepping back. “I’ll be there soon.”

She dropped her hand from his face, unlaced her other hand from his, then turned and walked away from him into the darkness.

Chapter 15

When she woke up the next morning, he was gone, probably up early to make a fire and get breakfast started, so Maggie snuggled deeper into her sleeping bag. By the time he’d finally entered the tent last night after straightening up the campsite, she’d been mostly asleep in her own sleeping bag, but he’d wrapped his arms around her, bag and all, pulling her against his chest, into his safe, warm embrace. Even through the material and down of two sleeping bags, she could feel his heat, his strength, his protective tenderness surrounding her. And even though her intent had been to talk and make out until dawn, her heavy eyes had overruled her intentions and within moments she was asleep.

The second night ended almost identically, and though she didn’t actually remember him coming to bed, she loved waking up in his arms. Or she would have loved it if she hadn’t felt so totally and completely miserable. There was a reason for her heavy, tired eyes and unbelievable willpower when the man of her dreams was snuggling behind her in the small space of a shared tent: she was coming down with something and from the way she felt, she knew it was going to be a whopper.