Sweet Hearts (The Lindstroms Book 3)

head in a very short amount of time, and keeping her out of his head—as he’d tidily managed to do with every other woman with whom he’d been briefly involved—somehow didn’t seem as possible. Not that it mattered anyway, since he had firmly placed himself, idiotically, prematurely, in the friend zone with her, when his whole body was hungry for a lot more than friendship from her. What a mess. What a damned mess.
He hit the steering wheel once in frustration, opening his door and swinging his legs out of the car. He tucked the phone in his back pocket and shut the door behind him, trudging into the squat, brick public building.
As if on cue, his ass vibrated to tell him a new text had come in. He stopped in his tracks and reached for his phone, feeling like an eighth grader being passed a message in study hall from the prettiest girl in school, and turned his phone over to read her text:.
Clearly not every man. See you Sunday, kamrat-Ӓ
Kamrat. Comrade. Pal. Chum. Friend. Erik huffed once before shoving his phone back into his pocket, his shoulders slumping in disappointment, then headed into the district office for his initial briefing.
***
Katrin checked her phone again, but she had a feeling there wouldn’t be any more texts for now. She threw it down on the bed, annoyed and confused.
Today had just been one surprise after another, and meeting Erik Lindstrom definitely hadn’t been on her radar. From the moment he’d appeared in her brother’s front doorway, her body had come alive, but learning that he was the most resolute bachelor who ever lived didn’t bode very well for her chances with him. Then again, the way he’d looked at her said something else entirely, and the way he’d asked her out to dinner hadn’t exactly felt…friendly.
She forced Erik Lindstrom out of her mind and finished unpacking, then lay down on her new bed, feeling weary, looking up at a ceiling fan that had seen better days. Out of nowhere, her eyes filled with fat tears, and she let them spill at will.
The relief she felt at being away from Choteau—from Wade—was bewildering and liberating, and as her shredded nerves began repairing themselves, she recognized the full breadth of her fear and exhaustion.
“Oh, thank God I’m here,” she sighed, rolling onto her side and tucking her knees up to her chest. Count your blessings; your family figured this out for you.
An interesting job, a lovely little town, a bright apartment, a new roommate who could become a friend, and a warm, welcoming boss. José. Hmm. Not too hard on the eyes, either, although truth be told, José wasn’t at all her type.
So, who is your type, Katrin? Certainly not Wade. And no, not José, for all of his tan, masculine charm. And heck, she didn’t want to date someone who was better looking than she was, for heaven’s sake. Anyway, he was her boss, and dating the boss was a recipe for disaster.
You didn’t answer the question. Who’s your type?
Oh, Katrin…Just admit it.
She turned to her other side, facing the window where Erik stood not long ago muttering that José was a tool, his body taut and annoyed. She smiled, thinking of his grin when he had insisted, “A little bit, he is.”
Erik Lindstrom. Katrin sighed. Yes, okay, I admit it. Erik Lindstrom is exactly my type.
Some women might complain about the military shortness of his blond hair, or the lightness of the color itself. They might find his eyes too cold, almost impossibly light in their silvery-blue. They might find his strong jaw and broad chest an annoying throwback to the blond Tarzans of black and white movies. But in Katrin’s eyes, Erik Lindstrom was achingly beautiful.
He had fumbled through his words after they met and shook hands at Kristian’s house, but she knew exactly what he was trying to say, because she felt the same sensation pass through her body: I know you. I must know you. It was visceral, deep and almost hidden, but unmistakable in nuance, in making her feel a certain way. And the way her heart leapt every time they touched…well, it simply couldn’t be ignored.
She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes, feeling the goose bumps rise up on her skin as she remembered him standing behind her in her new bedroom. When she had turned around, she was sure he was going to kiss her, despite his carefully erected boundaries. He had stared at her, and she was sure he had considered it then decided not to, which confused her.
After that long speech in the car about wanting to be friends, he’d almost kissed her. After making it clear he had no interest in a romantic relationship, he’d asked her out on a date. It didn’t make sense. His words said one thing, his actions said another. He said no commitment, no picket fences, no romance, nothing but friendship…but his eyes seemed to contradict his words, even in the short time they had gotten to know one another. His eyes didn’t read friendship and brotherly concern when she looked into them; they read something else altogether, something hot and hungry and possessive, and—she smiled—a little confused too. Hmm. A lot confused.
She thought of Erik’s eyes, yearning and intense, and Katrin felt sure that he had—at least—considered kissing her. And despite all of her misgivings about him, that made her feel happy. Happy. It’d been a long time since Katrin felt happy about a man.
After Wade had left her at the altar, her self-confidence had taken an inevitable hit, and as Wade’s behavior had gotten increasingly erratic, she’d been going out less and less. She’d essentially taken herself off the market, unable to consider a new relationship until things with Wade calmed down.
While she knew she must have been pretty