Sweet Hearts (The Lindstroms Book 3)

the car, turning to her.
“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his tone serious, but unemotional. “Before you go, I just wanted to say again that I’m not far away if you need anything. Just call or text me and I’ll be here, okay?”
Katrin turned and smiled at Erik, her face registering surprise, then tenderness. Without warning, she leaned over and gently pressed her lips to his cheek. He froze, unable to move, unable to think, unable to focus on anything but the touch of her soft lips against his skin. His heart slammed in his chest and his eyes closed, like an untried schoolboy, like someone who had never been kissed before. Her touch was no more than a breeze against his skin, a feather, a petal, but he felt the imprint of her lips, the heat of her breath, even after she moved away.
When he opened his eyes, she was leaning back, her eyes wide. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes at first, followed by wonder, as she murmured, “Oh.”
He stared back at her. He could feel his face flushing hot and red and he wrinkled his brows together, frowning at her, confused by the raw intensity of his feelings. He didn’t know what to say. “I…um…”
She licked her lips, flicking her glance to his mouth, then turned away sharply, placing her hand on the door handle. Before she got out of the car, she turned back to look at him, her wobbly smile trying to match her polite expression.
“Thank you, Erik. That’s all I was trying to say.”
He watched as she closed the door behind her and heard his breath come out in a hiss. He’d been holding it? You’ve got to get away from this girl. The sooner, the better.
He popped the trunk and met her at the back of the car. He was so preoccupied getting her bags out, he didn’t notice the man approaching them from the front entrance of the building.
When he looked up, his heart dropped to his knees. Dr. Martin wasn’t the white-haired, wizened, old army doctor Erik had somehow expected him to be. He looked about thirty-five: tall, tan, lean and strong, with deep, warm dark brown eyes focused with happy fortune on Katrin Svenson.
Erik’s brain turned on a dime to caveman mush, and all he could think as he closed the trunk with more force than required was:
Screw “family friends.”
I saw her first.
***
“You must be Katrin!”
The man approaching her was not what Katrin had expected. First of all, there’s no way his given surname was really “Martin” unless he had been adopted. His bronze skin, straight dark hair and deep brown eyes belied a Latino or Native American heritage, and why in the world hadn’t Ingrid mentioned he was so young and buff and good-looking?
“Yes. I’m Katrin Svenson. Ingrid’s sister-in-law.”
Dr. Martin put out his hand and Katrin took it in hers. He smiled at her easily, showing off a set of white, perfect teeth that matched the brightness of his white t-shirt, tucked into a pair of black jeans. “José Martinez.”
“José? Ingrid told me–”
“Oh, right! In the service, I went by Joe Martin. Just easier, you know? To assimilate. But, now that I’m home….”
“I totally get it. It’s good to meet you, José. No scrubs, huh?” She looked him up and down with a grin.
“Not for another week or two. When we open.” José looked up over her head at Erik Lindstrom. “And who’s this? Your bodyguard?”
“Oh, sorry!” Katrin said, turning to glance at Erik, who, she couldn’t help but notice, looked a little forgotten and a lot annoyed. “This is Erik Lindstrom, who was kind enough to give me a lift. He’s a family friend.”
Erik’s face snapped from José to her, eyes narrowing, lips tight. She tilted her head at him, as if to ask, What? What are you upset about? We’re friends, right?
He stared at her a moment longer, looking disgruntled, then turned his attention to the doctor and shook his proffered hand. He still looked downright grumpy, and a little silly, holding her pink flowered duffel bag over his shoulder. She swallowed a grin.
Crossing to Erik, she tugged on the bag to take it from him, but he lifted it a trifle higher, securing it more surely to his shoulder. “I promised Ingrid I’d check out everything before I headed out.”
“Aw, Ingrid knows me,” José said. “Don’t worry! Are you headed back to Choteau tonight?”
“No. I’m in law enforcement. In Kalispell. I’ll be around.”
Katrin noticed the change in Erik’s tone, the set of his jaw, the way he thrust his chest forward. José had his hands on his hips and his eyes were cool and careful as they regarded Erik. Erik was taller by a good margin, thought Katrin, but their muscle mass looked about the same. She shook her head, feeling silly for comparing them.
She placed a gentle hand on Erik’s arm, her fingers touching the blond hairs on his forearm gingerly, and looked back at José. “Maybe you can show us where I’m staying?”
“Follow me, Nurse Svenson!”
As Katrin followed José, Erik trailed grouchily behind, pulling her rolling pink suitcase along.
José led them into the two-story, facade-style building with a front porch that had a swing on one side and a small table with three chairs on the other. José gestured to the table and chairs, then winked back at Katrin. “Our conference room!”
“Chilly once winter comes!”
“Oh, we’ll be all up and running by then. Long before. This was some sort of public records building at one point, but it hasn’t been used regularly in years. It’s a good location for the clinic, though.”
They followed him inside, and Katrin got her first glimpse of the run-down, would-be clinic. A sparse, shabby front room would eventually serve as a reception