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Daisy
I watch as Riven disappears, then slowly uncross my arms from over my chest. Maybe Cole’s right. Maybe Iamacting like an idiot. But I don’t trust these guys yet. None of themseemto recognise me, but they might just be pretending. If they know who I am, I’m sure as Hell not letting them see my tits.
No matter how hot they are.
Seriously. I’ve heard about Swedes being good-looking, but this is unreal. Is it a national requirement to look like you’ve been chiselled from rock, or something? Between Riven’s wicked bone structure, Eli’s dimples, and Coal’s bright blue eyes, I feel like I’ve fallen into a modelling catalogue. It’s kind of intimidating.
Eli starts clattering around in the kitchen, and I relax slightly. At least one of them likes me. “I don’t think your friends want me here,” I say drily.
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about them. Cole’s been in a bad mood. For like, the last thirty years. And Riv has trust issues. But they’ll both come around.” He grins at me, sparking up the stove. “You’re not a vegetarian or anything, are you, babe?”
“No. I can eat everything.”
“Great.” He nods at the big sofa. “Go make yourself comfortable. This won’t take long.”
I obediently drop onto the coach. The fire crackles at my side, warming my skin as I glance around me. It looks like all of the furniture is handmade. The cushions strewn across the sofa are embroidered with brightly coloured thread. The coffee table is made of a thick, textured oak, and even the coasters spread across its surface look like carved leather. With nothing else to do, I pull my phone out of my pocket, turning it on with a wince. I’ve had it switched off for the last couple of days. I’m too scared of the texts and emails everybody will have sent me. God knows what awful things they’re saying. My screen lights up, and I wait for the slew of notifications—but there’s nothing. I glance up at the corner of the screen. No bars. “You don’t have any signal?”
“We do usually,” Eli says, pulling a packet out of the fridge. “It’ll be the storm.”
That news settles heavily in my stomach. Well, I guess this is what I wanted, when I came up here.
A few days ago, after I got fired, I tried to hide from the reporters by going to my parents’ house. They tossed me back out onto the pavement. As did every friend I tried to visit. Even worse, every single person I passed on the street recognised me. Brighton is a small city, and apparently, everybody had already read about me in the local news. As I trailed, crying, back to my flat, people started shouting at me across the road. Catcalling. Some even took photos. A gaggle of mums from the school I used to work at spotted me and practically chased me back to my flat, screaming about how they were going to sue me.
People even stared at me this morning in the airport. My story had hit some major UK news stations by then. When I walked down the plane aisle to find my seat, a teenage boy I passed moaned like he was having an orgasm, and I almost threw up on the spot.
That’s why I decided to travel up to Kiruna. It’s literally in the Arctic Circle. I wanted to be as off-the-grid as possible. I didn’t want anybody to be able to recognise me.
Well, now no one will be able to find my body, either.
Eli starts humming under his breath, a low, bass rumble. I watch him as he cooks. He’s taken off his jumper, and he’s wearing a tight grey t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders. I watch his muscles roll under the thin fabric. I wonder if he’s an athlete. He’s very light on his feet, moving around the kitchen gracefully.
“What do you do up here?” I ask, picking up a pillow and squishing it to my chest.
“I’m a skiing instructor,” he says over his shoulder. “In skiing season, I work down in the resort a few miles from here.”
That explains that.
“I’m going to bend over now,” he adds. “Make sure you payveryclose attention to my ass.”
I sputter. “I—what?”
He tosses me a dazzlingly white grin. “I can see you watching me in the window reflection. You gotta get better at perving, babe. If you were a guy, you’d have been slapped round the face by now.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Um. I’m sorry.”
He waves me off. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Of course you want to look. You’re only human. I’m sure it’s not everyday you see a body so perfectly formed. So, please,” he grins again. “Enjoy.”
My face gets even hotter. “I thought you were bending over,” I mutter. “Get on with it, then.”
He laughs, bending to pull some plates out of the cupboard. I figure, since he’s given me permission, I may as well enjoy the view. And it really is spectacular. His asscheeks are toned and sculpted, and his thighs—Holy shit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy with such thick, hard thighs before.
I swallow as he straightens. “Alright. Show’s over, I’m afraid.” He comes and sits next to me, setting my plate on the coffee table. Sausages and mashed potato doused in gravy, with a big spoonful of what looks like jam on the side.
I point at it with my fork. “What is this?”
“Lingonberry. It’s a Swedish staple.” He slings his arm over the back of the sofa. Even though he’s sitting close enough for me to feel the heat coming off his skin, it’s not creepy. Just warm and comforting.
For the first few minutes, I’m completely focussed on wolfing down my food. I haven’t eaten anything since the roll and apple I nabbed before my flight this morning. Riven’s right; as I eat, the dizziness and fogginess in my brain start to dissipate.
