Chapter Six
BIRDIE STARTLED AWAKE to banging on the cabin door.
She sat up, her heart racing as she gathered the blanket around herself.
Squinting against the breaking dawn, the faint scent of her Viking clinging to her skin, she tried to get her brain to focus.
She was still on the floor in front of the fireplace, but where was he?
The bathroom door was open, but the light was off.
More pounding rattled the front door.
Ragnar.
Maybe he went to get them breakfast and locked himself out.
Giddy at the prospect, she pushed to her feet and shuffled to the door, every step tweaking muscles she hadn’t used in a long time, reminding her just how thoroughly she’d enjoyed last night.
The couch was a wreck of pillows, the foyer a mess of discarded clothes, which had fallen off the table by the door. Totally worth it.
More knocks rang out as she reached for the door. “I can think of better uses for your Viking energy—”
“What the heck, Birdie?” Quinn said as she and Cutter barreled in. “Why aren’t you answering your texts? I was worried you went home with some guy and he chopped you up into little pieces.”
“That’s scarily specific,” Birdie said as Quinn hugged her. “And not very reassuring that you waited so long to come looking for me.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Quinn said as Cutter stalked toward the living room like a man on a mission. “What happened? Did your phone die?”
Before Birdie could get a word out, Cutter said, “Looks like she was otherwise occupied.”
Birdie and Quinn followed his gaze to—Oh shit—condom wrappers littering the floor.
“Oh,” Quinn said with interest.
“Sorry,” Birdie said. “My mind wasn’t exactly on my phone last night. I don’t even know where it is.” Or where Ragnar is. Anxiety prickled her limbs. Did he ditch her? Without even saying goodbye?
“One, two, three…four?” Cutter said with surprise. “Damn, Birdie.”
She realized he was counting condom wrappers, and hoped he wouldn’t notice they were not all the same. She’d used her emergency supply. “Would you get out of my living room, please?”
“Wait, what’s that? Is that number five?” He bent to look under the coffee table.
“Cutter!” Birdie hurried over and shoved him out of the living room. “I appreciate you barging in here to gather the chopped-up pieces of my body, but you can go now.”
He reached for Quinn, and she said, “I’ll catch up with you at the lodge. Girl talk.”
“Our record is six,” he said.
“Go!” Birdie opened the door.
The second he was gone, Quinn said, “Get some clothes on and tell me everything.”
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at the kitchen table, coffee mugs in hand, as Birdie finished relaying her sinfully satisfying night with Ragnar, barely hanging on to the hope that he’d left to grab them breakfast. “Everything felt so different with him.”
“He sounds amazing, and I’m proud of you for not spilling your whole life story.” Quinn sipped her coffee. “You probably should have gotten his real name, since you slept with him.”
“Cut me a little slack. I was living out a fantasy.”
“Clearly. Five times? That’s pretty wild. When are you seeing him again?”
Birdie swallowed hard, the knot in her stomach telling her to own the truth no matter how much it stung. She stared into her coffee mug and said, “I don’t think I am.”
“What? Why not?”
She met Quinn’s curious gaze, wishing he’d come through the door and prove her wrong. “He was gone when I woke up. I thought you were him at the door and that he’d gone to get us breakfast and got locked out.”
“Oh, Birdie.” Quinn gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “You think he ditched you? After the night you two had? That doesn’t make sense. Did you look for a note?”
“No, but…” She huffed out a breath, trying to ignore the hurt sinking into her chest, and shook her head.
“I just know. I can feel it. I must really suck at reading people. Or at least at reading Vikings who carry me down a mountain and look at me like I’m the only person in the room.
” She tried to smile through the heartache but couldn’t.
“I thought we had a connection. He said he liked who I am. Not who I could be. Who I already am, and I bought it, hook, line, and sinker. If you could have seen the way he looked at me when he said it.”
She stared into her mug again. “It didn’t feel like a one-night fling.
He didn’t act like he was only in it for sex, either.
” Shouldn’t telling me about his family mean something?
“He said his life was complicated, and he couldn’t make any promises, which was fine, but then he told me I was done with jelly filling, which is the same thing as telling me he was the impossible-to-resist molten filling I’ve been looking for.
You don’t say that and then vanish before morning without a word. You just don’t.”
“Yeah, that’s a dick move,” Quinn said sharply. “Now I really wish you’d gotten his name, so Cutter could pay him a visit and teach him a lesson. Then maybe he’d think twice before doing that to anyone else.”
“You know what? He did say he was probably a dick but not the kind of dick his dad is.”
Quinn’s brows knitted. “What kind of dick is his dad?”
“I have no idea, but he must be pretty bad if this is the kind of dick Ragnar is.” Birdie finished her coffee, trying to quash the uneasy feeling that something was off, and pushed to her feet.
“You know what? The heck with this soul-mate-seeking crap. I’m so done with all of it.
I’m going to shower and pretend this doesn’t sting.
Then I’m going to fling myself down the mountain at unsafe speeds, and if I don’t feel better after that, maybe I’ll reassess my life choices. ”