32
Nora was woken by the sound of her phone pinging with a text message. It was from Bea, saying that she was home. Nora breathed a sigh of relief.
Henrik drew her close. “What was that about? It’s the middle of the night.”
“It’s Bea—I always ask her to text me when she gets home from her night shift, so I know.”
“So you know . . . ?”
“That she’s safe. She’s a cop, and I worry when she works nights.” The room was cool; Nora shivered and curled up next to Henrik with her head resting on his shoulder. She drew the thick quilt up to her chin.
“Is V?stervik such a dangerous place?”
“I’m sure I have no real reason to be anxious, but I’ve gotten so much bad news over the years ...” She sighed. “It’s not easy when you care about someone. I’m terrified of getting a terrible shock, like when my father died.”
Henrik cleared his throat. Pulled her close. “Can I ask what happened?”
Nora swallowed hard, took a deep breath. Remembered thinking that things were different with Henrik. She wanted to share this with him.
It was just that every time she touched on the deaths of her parents, the pain overwhelmed her again. But she also knew that talking about it eased something inside her a little. “It was an ordinary day. He was driving to Kalmar to look at a new industrial mixer.” She paused. Henrik placed his hand on hers. She could barely make out the contours of his face in the darkness. “A truck was on the wrong side of the road. Mom got the news while I was at indoor floorball training, so a friend of hers came to pick me up. Mom was a wreck when I arrived home. Apparently Dad died instantaneously.” She shook her head slowly. “I experienced an indescribable, almost physical pain. I thought I would never feel anything like it again. But ... I was wrong.” Henrik kissed her head, gently stroked her shoulders. “When my mom died, the pain was agonizing and drawn out. Every time we were given bad news about the progression of her illness, it was like hearing about my dad’s death all over again. And yet I couldn’t help hoping for better news next time—only to be disappointed. So ... I guess I’m always expecting the worst.”
“I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. It’s ...” He broke off. “I don’t know what to say, but it seems terribly unfair.”
Nora nodded, and they lay in silence for a while. She loved being in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder.
“I’ve been thinking,” Henrik said after a while. “You said you had a story about your sourdough, and I never let you tell me what it was.”
Nora turned her head, looked up at him in surprise. “You’ve been thinking about my sourdough?”
He shrugged. “I’m a baker, that means I think about stuff like an old sourdough starter.”
She smiled. “It belonged to my great-grandmother.” She told him the story her grandmother had told her many times, of how the sourdough had been passed down and survived so much.
“Interesting.” She thought she heard a slight tremble in his voice. “I’ll ask production if we can include the story somewhere; I think it would be a good addition.”
Filming with Nora in the days following their night together was ... strange, but in a very pleasant way, Henrik thought. Everything they had shared with each other that night gave rise to a burning, intimate attraction he had never felt before.
They ended the week with a simple see you around . He went to the hotel, and Nora stayed to lock up. Which seemed a little ... flat. But what else could he have done? It would be obviously a good idea to let things settle, especially as she was a participant in his show, and they still had a few more days’ filming to complete.
As usual the team had dinner at the hotel. Since Sunday was going to be a day off, the atmosphere was more relaxed. Elnaz suggested they all go for a drink after they’d eaten. Much to his surprise Henrik found himself agreeing—for the simple (yet in a way quite complicated) reason that he would otherwise have spent the evening in his room, thinking about Nora. He might even have called her.
Once they’d settled in at a nearby bar, he accompanied Elnaz to the bar to order drinks for everyone.
“What did you think of the first scenes? Honestly?” Elnaz asked while they were waiting. Henrik had seen the early clips just before dinner.
“I thought they looked really good—including the material for the press launch.”
“Oh, I can’t wait!” Elnaz replied with a smile. The launch of the Christmas special was something they all looked forward to. It was a big deal because it was the last big push before everyone disappeared for the holidays. “But I can’t wait to have some time off either,” Elnaz added.
“You deserve it. You’ve worked hard this season. God knows it hasn’t been easy, but I think we’ve ended up with something good. I’m very pleased with what I saw earlier.” He meant every word. The new season had remained true to the spirit of Let’s Get Baking , but with a little more chemistry, more feeling, more of a spark—with that hint of a flirtation between him and Nora in the background, in spite of their frequent bickering. He thought it was a fair portrayal; there was nothing that cast Nora in a dubious light. She came across as a serious and highly skilled baker who took great pride in her profession.
Elnaz nodded. “I agree. And we’ll have the gingerbread house competition to round things off, maybe with a kiss in front of the cameras in the square?” She winked at him. “I’ve always said that flirting was a better direction than the hysterical-female angle.”
Henrik smiled at her. Of course romance was preferable.
“This is taking forever,” Elnaz said. “I’ll just run to the bathroom.”
Henrik picked up a menu while he was waiting and read through the wine list, and then he looked around the room. Anything to distract himself from thoughts of Nora.
It didn’t work. He took out his phone.
What are you doing? He sent the message before he had time to change his mind.
“Hey.” Elnaz was back. “What do you think of her?” She nodded toward a girl farther along the bar, then smiled at her. The girl returned the smile.
“I think she looks about half your age,” Henrik said with a grin.
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Nothing. As long as she’s reached the age of consent.”
Elnaz glanced at the menu in his hand. “Are you ordering wine?”
“No, it’s just habit—I always check out the wine list. It got to be a habit when I was with Bente.”
“Are you still in touch?”
Henrik shook his head. “She cheated on me. Why would I keep in touch with a cheating ex who humiliated me in front of the entire population of Sweden?”
“Cheated on you? But ... Didn’t you know ...” Elnaz looked confused. “Didn’t Bente tell you what happened?”
“What are you talking about?”
“She never cheated on you.”
“I don’t know what you mean. Of course she said she didn’t cheat on me, but the pictures were very convincing. Why should I believe her?” The photographs were taken at an outdoor café at a castle in the South of France, Bente sitting opposite her ex-boyfriend Frederic on those rustic French cast iron chairs at a round marble table. In the distance there were rows of vines growing on undulating hills, and Bente was positively glowing with love.
“Because it was true.” Elnaz rolled her eyes. “Nothing happened with Frederic.”
“How can you know that for sure?” Henrik felt a twinge of doubt. Elnaz had been the producer on Bente’s show, so maybe she did know something he didn’t.
“I was with her all the time. They only saw each other that one time at the café. I was there, and they did absolutely nothing. There was no kiss. Okay, I saw the way she looked at him, but she didn’t betray your trust. I’m not saying you don’t have the right to be angry because she did look as if she was in love in those photos, but she didn’t cheat on you in the physical sense. Some idiot in production leaked the pictures, and they were taken completely out of context.” When Henrik didn’t respond, she went on. “They met briefly at the vineyard. I saw him arrive, they talked about what was going to be filmed, he presented his wine, and then they chatted for a few minutes after filming wrapped for the day. Then he left. And shortly afterward, so did we. Bente and I were sharing a hotel room, because the company always tries to cut costs as soon as there’s foreign travel involved. She had no opportunity to cheat on you.”
“But the photographs, they . . .”
“I know. They looked compromising. But she was never unfaithful. I’ve always thought that the press was really hard on her, they were very unfair, and you ...”
“Didn’t say a word.”
“Exactly, and I never understood why.”
So what Bente had told him was true? Once he’d seen the pictures, he’d never thought there was a reason to question the narrative. He also knew the history between Bente and Frederic. She had fallen in love with him when she was working as a sommelier in Paris, but it had never turned into anything serious—at least not on his side. Frederic was the love of Bente’s life, and when she told Henrik how much Frederic had hurt her, he had known that the relationship was unresolved; Bente still had feelings for her ex. As far as Henrik was concerned, the photographs were proof enough. He had never discussed the matter with anyone else—including Elnaz, precisely because she knew Bente, too, which put her in a difficult position. Plus he was a very private person, and didn’t want to share his emotions.
Now he felt like an idiot. The depth of his misunderstanding was hard to take in. Not because he believed that he and Bente would still have been a couple today—their relationship had been going downhill for a while at that point—but he cringed at the memory of everything that had happened afterward ... Bente had been trashed by the media, and Henrik had said nothing. He had never stood up for her; he was much too hurt. And maybe he had enjoyed her treatment by the press just a little, which wasn’t a very pleasant realization.
Nora leaned back in her chair; she couldn’t manage one more slice of truffle salami. She had invited the girls over for snacks and wine, and much to her surprise they had all shown up. As a thank-you for the dinner they had treated her to recently, she had bought good red wine, Pata Negra ham, bresaola, truffle salami, and a selection of cheeses. She took another sip of her wine.
Nora was glad she had asked them over, mainly because they were good company of course, but also because it forced her to think about something other than Henrik Eklund for a few hours. The strange, warm feeling she had felt ever since that night with him had lingered. It was as if those amazing orgasms were still in her body. Or was her body preparing for more?
“Can I put on a playlist?” Maryam said when Nora’s Spotify list ended.
“Absolutely. My phone’s over there.” Nora picked up the bottle of wine and refilled her glass. Took another sip, let the warm, spicy flavors roll around her mouth.
“You’ve got a message,” Maryam said, waving Nora’s phone in the air.
“Who from? We’re all here.”
“Someone who’s wondering what you’re doing.” Maryam handed her the phone.
What are you doing?
When Nora saw that it was from Henrik, her heart started pounding.
What are you doing? She read the message several times. Who would have thought that four little words could start a mini-tornado swirling around in her belly?
Having dinner with some friends. How about you?
Elnaz has dragged me and the production team out to check out the town. Can’t you come and join us?
“Who’s it from?” Bea was staring at her. Jesus, why did Bea have to be so nosy?
“Henrik. He’s out on the town and wants me to join him.”
“So you know each other well enough to exchange texts?”
“Apparently.”
“Hang on, has something happened between you two?” Bea’s eyes widened.
Nora didn’t answer. She didn’t know why she hadn’t told her friends about what had happened. But for some reason she wanted to keep it to herself.
Bea slapped her on the arm. “Spill!”
“Okay, so that night we made Lucia buns, we ended up having sex.”
“Like you do! It’s a well-known fact that making Lucia buns always ends with sex,” Bea said, looking shocked. Then she grinned. “Details, please! How did it happen? I thought you hated him!”
“Yes, I know, but ... it just happened. I mean, we’ve been getting along better recently—much better. We’ve talked a lot, and the filming began to go better. Once his arrogant TV persona disappeared, everything changed.”
“So where is he now?” Maryam asked.
“Let me find out.” She tapped out a quick message and received a reply within seconds. “Guldkant.”
“So let’s go!” Tess said.
Maryam clapped her hands. “Let’s do it—it’s been a long time since we had a proper night out!”
“Fine by me,” Nora said, trying to keep her cool. She didn’t want to give her friends any false hope. They always hoped that her next relationship would be The One, but they had to realize that she and Henrik Eklund weren’t ever going to be a real thing.
“I’ll just . . . get changed.”
She went into her bedroom and grabbed the black, high-waisted jeans that showed off her butt to its best advantage. She kept her wine-red blouse on; it was very Christmassy.
“Oh, you’ve gone for your butt-hugging jeans,” Bea said when Nora emerged. “Someone has plans for tonight.”
“Shut up.”
“Ha—who do you think you’re fooling? You always wear those jeans when you’re planning to take someone home,” Maryam said.
Nora went into the bathroom, painted her lips dark red, and swept her hair up into a high ponytail. Then she changed her mind and let her hair hang loose over her shoulders. She sprayed on the most sensual perfume she owned.
Then she and her friends set out. The bar was buzzing when they arrived. Nora looked around, trying not to appear too eager—though in her mind, she felt like a celebrity-baker-seeking missile.
And there he was. Standing at the bar. He had already seen her, and when she met his eyes, he smiled, held her gaze for a long time. The world around her seemed to tremble, then suddenly began to spin. Just from the way he looked at her. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that what she saw there was genuine feeling. It couldn’t be, though, right? It was just an extension of the flirtation they’d begun for the cameras. But if that were the case, what did her reaction mean? She decided these thoughts were way too complicated for her wine-befuddled brain, so she simply walked straight up to him.
She gave him a quick hug, and he held her for a fraction of a second too long. Then he greeted her friends, ordered a bottle of champagne, and made sure everyone had a glass.
Standing right next to him, Nora was hyperaware of his smell, the smell that had enveloped her whole body that night. Her legs trembled, just because of his proximity, and she realized she had been fooling herself. Of course she intended to spend the night with him, she had to have sex with him again. Tonight.
The girls made for the dance floor, and Henrik followed. As they started to dance, Nora found it hard to tear her eyes away from his tall figure, those broad shoulders. The thick hair that sometimes flopped forward, only for him to push it back again. And that irresistible beard. She reached out and stroked it just to feel its roughness against her fingertips. A shudder passed through her entire body, and he grabbed her wrist, drew her close, danced with his hips touching hers.
An old Ace of Base track was playing, which made her smile. When he sang every single word while swaying in time to the music, she couldn’t help laughing. He pulled her even closer, as close as it was possible to be. She wound her arms around his neck. Felt his breath on her face. Oh God.
When the song ended, Nora let go of Henrik and danced for a while with her friends.
Elnaz appeared with a tray of shot glasses containing a luminous green concoction and passed the tray around. Everyone knocked them back, and Henrik drew Nora close once more.
“Where were we?” he murmured in her ear, and his deep voice vibrated through her very bones.
Nora looked around; the girls had gone back to the bar with Elnaz. She met Henrik’s gaze, let herself get lost in those dark-brown eyes. They were dancing close together again, his hands in her hair. Her silk blouse was no barrier to the heat emanating through his cotton shirt. He was so close, but though they didn’t kiss, the heat whirled around Nora’s body like a hurricane. She wanted him. So she leaned forward and kissed him. Her tongue slowly played with his, and he responded by kissing her hard. They carried on kissing. When a new song came on, they were no longer dancing, just swaying to the music while they made out. Making out was so underrated!
“Get a room!” Elnaz’s voice brought them back to reality, and when Nora looked around she could see that everyone was staring at them. She turned back to Henrik, eyes wide with horror, but he simply smiled, and then they both burst out laughing.
They were still laughing as they collected their jackets and left the club. Out in the street the cold struck them, along with a swirling wind coming off the sea.
“That might have been a step too far,” Henrik said. “After all I’m almost forty, not sixteen.” He looked at her. “But I couldn’t help it.”
She gazed at him. “Almost forty ... I’m so glad there’s someone out on the town tonight who’s older than me.”
He punched her lightly on the shoulder, then put his arm around her.
They walked in the dry winter cold to his hotel, and they had barely gotten through the door of his room when they ripped off each other’s clothes and tumbled onto the bed.