Chapter Twelve
SUMMER SWISHED HER hand through the tall grass as she followed M?rten down the small trail between the houses, enjoying the tickle on her palm.
It was already after seven at night, but the sun still had no intention of setting.
The soft evening light gave the surrounding birch trees an ethereal look, and Summer breathed in deep.
It was hard to imagine this stunning place meters deep in snow for six months of the year, as M?rten had described.
It was warm enough to wear shorts and a tank top, and Summer relished the heat on her skin.
Nikki had been right; summer in Sweden was beautiful.
The season was her namesake; her mother had thought it so American to name her first child born in the country in June with a modern, trendy name.
Sometimes Summer wished for a normal name like her two older sisters.
Jasmine and Lily had both fared well because they’d been born in Mexico.
Herself and younger sister, Riviera—who was named after a Country Club in LA because her father had been asked to play a round of golf there by one of the company’s rich clients, and never stopped talking about it since—had been products of their new life in America.
“Here we are,” M?rten called over his shoulder as they emerged from the forest trail onto a road.
They were on their way to the neighborhood supermarket to stock up on food.
M?rten had promised to cook her some of the local salmon, freshly caught in a nearby stream and sold at this little gourmet shop within walking distance from his cottage.
Summer had hoped to do a run this afternoon, just a short one to stretch her legs and shake the hours of travel from her bones.
But then M?rten had made her some toast, and they got talking.
The subjects had been touchy ones, and she’d opened up to him more than she wanted.
The conversation had left her a tad mortified that she’d revealed more than she intended, as well as a little depressed, and confused as to why telling M?rten that she was going to remain single felt like some kind of failure.
He hadn’t condemned her. Well, not in so many words.
But she was sure she saw pity flicker through those ice-blue eyes, and that made her mad.
Not so much mad at him, but mad at herself.
None of these feelings were conducive to running.
Even though she was here to train, and she rarely, if ever, let her emotions rule how she trained, she’d decided that sometimes you had to listen to your body.
And then there was the other elephant in the room.
She’d been sure he was about to kiss her.
How dare he try that again after his callous rejection last time?
And how dare her traitorous body want him too.
She’d been overcome with humiliation, and this time it was she who’d done the running away.
Spending the next hour lying on her cute bed in her even cuter bedroom, staring at the ceiling, mulling over her life choices.
Nikki’s comment that ‘she should just sleep with M?rten, and what was the problem with having sex for sex’s sake?
’ kept playing over and over in her head.
Until M?rten had suggested a walk to get something to eat and she grudgingly agreed.
She had reached no conclusion as to how she was going to handle living in close quarters with him for the next two weeks.
But being outside in the gentle air with tiny songbirds flittering from tree to tree above her had lightened her mood immensely, and now she was feeling almost like herself again.
Maybe this trip might be good for her. Get her out of her normal routine; out of her rut.
If the truth be known, a tiny part of her that she barely acknowledged had been considering giving up on triathlons.
Sometimes it all seemed a little pointless.
Why was she killing herself just to win a race, then returning home to start training anew?
It was like each win wasn’t enough anymore.
At times she thought the only reason she ran, and swam, and bicycled was to keep those damn nightmares at bay.
But she would not think about Marco today, not with all this soothing nature around her.
Red-painted wooden cottages, much like M?rten’s, lined the road, along with a couple of pale yellow and pale green ones scattered amongst the trees.
Summer almost laughed. How many times had she seen these little historical places in tourist brochures or glossy magazines and thought they were quaint but not where people still lived.
Now that she was here, however, she could see they really existed, that the Swedes took their traditions seriously and most folks out here would rather maintain a hundred-year-old building than knock it down and build a modern monstrosity.
M?rten stopped outside a small doorway at the beginning of a row of shops. The window was full of mouthwatering treats, from fresh fruit and vegetables to jars of pickled fish, boxes of crackers, jellies and patés, dried salamis and tubes of what looked like cheese spread. Weird, but wonderful.
“I’ll get the salmon and salad ingredients.
” M?rten handed her a small shopping basket.
“Why don’t you take a look around, see if anything else takes your fancy?
” She watched as he headed straight to the fresh food section, trying hard not to notice those muscular thighs bend and flex beneath the hem of his shorts as he walked.
Forcing herself to pivot, she wandered the other way, perusing the shelves, gawping at all the strange items, mostly in Swedish so she couldn’t decipher them.
There was a deli counter that not only sold cold meat cuts—most of which she’d never heard of before—and so many cheeses she lost count, but also a selection of pre-cooked meals.
There was fish stew with aioli, beef bourguignon with mashed potatoes, shrimp salad, and the famous meatballs with gravy and red sauce.
Her mouth began to water and her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d only eaten two pieces of toast today.
By the time she made it back to the checkout where M?rten stood waiting, her basket was nearly full. “Wow, you must be hungry,” he said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. Nope, it wasn’t her he was smiling at, it was the sight of all that yummy food, she told herself.
“I thought I’d try a few of your delicacies,” she quipped, even though she had no idea what most of the food in her basket was.
“Hmm. I’d go easy on the salted cod roe paste if I were you.” He picked up the blue tube that Summer had grabbed from the shelf because it looked interesting. “It’s a bit of an acquired taste.”
“I know that,” she said, grabbing the tube back, even though she didn’t. And though she wasn’t a huge fan of salted fish or caviar, she was determined to broaden her horizons, and she was damn well going to try every single thing in her basket, just to show him.
M?rten insisted on paying for everything, much to her chagrin. She was a single, independent woman, she didn’t need a man buying her food. But she didn’t want to cause a scene at the checkout either.
They exited the shop, laden down with paper bags, and Summer was trying to work out a nice way to tell M?rten that she would pay for our own food in future, when his phone rang.
He juggled the bags, trying to pry his cell from his back pocket, until Summer took half his load so that he had a hand free.
They continued to meander as M?rten talked, Summer pretending she wasn’t listening.
It sounded like he was talking to Jacob, and a half-frown descended his brow the longer he talked.
“That was Jacob,” he said, taking back his shopping bags after he ended the call.
“Yes, and?” She glanced up and squinted at M?rten through the setting sun’s rays, watching as his stubble-clad jaw worked as if he was trying to decide how much to tell her.
The golden light set off the planes of his face, highlighting his long, straight nose and sensitive mouth.
Why did he have to be so blasted good-looking?
It was distracting. She forced her gaze onto the gravel road so she could concentrate on what he was saying.
“As you know, along with throwing everything they have at trying to find Tyrone King, Jacob and Miller’s team have also been searching for clues to Paige’s disappearance,” M?rten began.
“Yes.” Summer tried to keep the impatience out of her tone.
“Well, they’ve discovered something a little unsettling about Paige.
” He cast her a quick glance, then returned his gaze to the front as they continued to stroll toward the house.
“Her phone and handbag are still missing—we assume they were taken along with her—but the fiancé handed over her private computer to the feds. And while they found her work and personal email accounts, they also found a third email account that the fiancé knew nothing about. It contained some interesting emails that the IT specialists are still going through.”
Summer stopped walking. Where was he going with this?
M?rten stopped too, and she glanced up into his face. “It looks like she may have been opposed to the gold mine at Yellowstone going ahead. Like genuinely opposed to it. She was mad. Mad enough to say some outrageous things.”
Summer turned this information over in her head. “So what?” She squinted up at him. “Surely that’s not such a revelation. She’s a ranger who cares about the land she’s supposed to be protecting. Of course, she’s not happy about the mine.”
M?rten’s frown told her he remained unconvinced. What was he hinting at? Were the FBI trying to suggest a correlation between Paige and the terrorist organization?
“Was Tyrone mentioned in any of the emails? Or his little EIC group?” she demanded.
“No.”