Chapter 5

Standing in the middle of Madde's kitchen, I lifted my hands in protest. "I can't just turn up at the man's house with a few cinnamon rolls and invite myself inside. It isn't the fifties anymore."

"Sure you can," she said breezily, shaking out a paper bag. "Tell him I'm sending them. They're fresh. After they've cooled down, he can freeze them in closed plastic bags. He loved them when I brought them to school the other day. He'll be delighted."

She'd get her way. I didn't know why I was trying to rebel anymore. Madde always got her way. "I don't know him at all. Why can't you go there yourself?"

"You do know him. Didn't you spend two hours together last time stacking wood?"

Whining pathetically, I hid my face in my hands. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Madde set aside the paper bag of cinnamon rolls and put her hands on her waist. "He's out there in the cottage all alone every night and every weekend. Sunday afternoons are the worst for lonely people. He needs to feel welcome and appreciated."

"This is going to be awkward as fuck. He'll be embarrassed. I'm embarrassed already."

"Don't be such a wuss. Imagine living alone up there with nobody from the village giving a damn. Aside from work, nobody talks to him."

"Oh, but they do. He was at the parish hall yesterday." I couldn't keep the annoyance from my tone. Was I jealous? Of a man I'd just met?

She froze, gaping at me. "Noo. At the eighties music quiz? Him!?"

I snorted. "God no. He was with Olaf, Theo, and Lars. The so-called queer club."

That made her pause. Frowning, she dropped one more roll into the paper bag and folded the edges. "That's good. I'm glad. He needs friends out here."

"See? He's fine. Put those in the freezer yourself, and I'm going fishing."

She glared and thrust the bag at me. "Bring him the rolls. You don't even have to stay and talk to him. Just tell him they're from me and leave without saying anything else, as a socially inept real man should."

I knew what she meant by that. Bringing up my father always worked, and Madde knew. I groaned but took the paper bag, and she lifted her chin with a barely contained smirk.

"That was a low blow," I muttered.

Her lips twitched. "You know I'm always here for you, whether you need a hug or a kick in the ass."

I suppressed my own laugh.

The thing was, I wanted to see Eric again.

Which was exactly why I didn't want to go over there.

He was different from anyone I'd met in the past…well, decade. Clever, witty, cute, all smooth and cultured. Different.

And he's pretty.

That was how I thought about him in my head. The pretty new teacher. He had a small, upturned nose, plush feminine lips, and eyes too big for his face. They were green with long lashes. From afar, he looked ten years younger than he was, and close up, with the laugh lines around his mouth, he radiated energy and smarts. So damned pretty.

He unsettled me.

"You're going. Now."

I sighed. "I'm going."

Madde gave me a one-armed hug. "Thank you. I would hate for Inger to gloat after she chased him back to Stockholm."

"We can't have Inger saying I told you so. But I don't think a bag of rolls will be enough to make him stay."

Smiling, Madde shoved me to the door. "You never know. Sometimes, it's the small things."

After what feltlike weeks of gray skies and gloom, we finally had proper sunshine today. I walked through the meadows and along the forest, avoiding the main road. The ground squelched under my boots, but higher up the hill, the path was dry. Spring—the real one, with birdsong and green leaves—hovered in the air. Once it started, it seemed to burst out of the earth like it could barely hold itself back.

Halfway up the hill, I unzipped my jacket and took my hat off. As I was nearing the small red cottage with white window frames, I spotted Eric in the garden. He wore a straw hat and faded jean overalls over a hoodie, looking like a movie gardener.

"Hi!" he called and waved with the shears he was holding. "If you have come to advise me or comment in any way on my efforts, please remain silent. It's too late."

"Hi. Not saying a word. What efforts, by the way?"

He pointed along the hedge. "Behold. A shrubbery."

I was about to tell him when the best time was to trim an oak hedge but said nothing. He'd probably googled it, realized it was late, and took the risk anyway because it was overgrown.

"One that looks nice. And not too expensive," I said instead, doing my best impression of Michael Palin.

Eric laughed out loud. He lifted his hand and showed me his forearm with red marks and drops of drying blood. "'Tis but a scratch," he enunciated.

"A scratch? Your arm's off!"

"No, it isn't," he said through bubbling laughter. "Are we really standing here quoting Monty Python?"

"I guess." I stretched my arm over the hedge and offered him the paper bag. "These are from Madde. She says hi."

He hung the shears on a branch and took the bag, looking a little stunned. "Oh. Thank you." He peered inside and sniffed delicately. "Wow. She's so kind. I have to message her thanks. These are the secret-family-recipe ones, right? They are so good."

"It's just loads of butter," I said. "The secret."

Eric shook his head. "Nuh-uh. There's a lot more to a good pastry recipe, believe me. But there's so many. I can't eat them all."

"Madde said you could freeze the rest."

He glanced around, and a moment of awkward silence descended on us.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" Eric asked, hesitant.

"Thanks. That's okay." Did he want me to stay and talk to him, or was he only being polite? I must be intruding. "I've already had three cups since this morning."

"Oh." His face fell. Maybe I wasn't intruding and he did want me to stay.

What was I supposed to say now? Why the hell did I let Madde talk me into this?

"Can I have a glass of water?"

He grinned. "No."

"No?" Was something wrong with his pipes? It was an old house…

"I'll make you tea. We can sit on the porch. It's so nice outside suddenly. After the weather we've been having, I can't get enough of the sun. How do you drink your tea?"

He hada couple of folding chairs on the porch and brought out a tray with two cups of tea, brown sugar, honey, oat milk, and a tall glass of water.

"Believe it or not, rooibos with oat milk and honey is lovely."

"That sounds exotic."

"Don't mock it until you've tried it. Here."

I accepted a chipped mug with small ladybugs on it and sipped. It was quite good.

"Weird, but nice."

"Told ya." He waggled his eyebrows. He had such expressive features, with a mobile mouth and distinct laugh lines. I had to constantly remind myself not to stare at him too much.

"You and Madde are neighbors?" he asked.

"No. We live together."

Eric tensed. Then I realized what I'd said and laughed, my neck on fire.

"That came out wrong. She married my dad when I was a kid. Then my dad died…"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly when I took a breath.

"I was at the university in Uppsala." I hurried past the topic of my father before Eric could ask more about him. "Madde couldn't run the estate alone, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to come back here. But then I did, and we kept the forests. She stays in the main house, and I have since converted a part of the barn into a one-bedroom home."

"So she's like your stepmother?" He lifted the plate of stacked rolls and held it up for me until I took one. The familiar shape and texture of a fresh cinnamon roll in my hand was comforting. I licked a sticky spot off my finger and immediately relaxed a notch.

"She's only fifteen years older than me, but she's trying to mother me anyway. Not that I mind." I breathed in the scent of butter and sugar and took a bite of the treat. "Her baking is perfection," I mumbled.

"I like Madeleine. She's great." Eric took a bite of his own roll and groaned. "Ah-mazing."

"She is." I forced myself to look away from him. "You have the best view in the village," I said, gazing over the meadows and fields surrounding Gryta. I could just spot the roof of our barn peeking out from behind a cluster of aspens.

"I love it here. It looks like a little oasis surrounded by endless forests. I know it'll be a lot of work to maintain the cottage, but I think I'll enjoy it." He let out a weak chuckle. "Once I stop feeling overwhelmed by every little surprise obstacle."

I chewed and swallowed another mouthful. "I remember that phase."

"But you grew up here, didn't you?"

"When we took over the estate after my father died, there was a lot I didn't know how to do, and he didn't leave things in order. On the days we didn't discover a new hole in the roof, we found an old unpaid bill. It was a stressful year. But it'll get better, I promise. You'll get the hang of it. Are you still finding what you need on YouTube?"

"There's this guy I follow who's singlehandedly repairing an eighteenth-century farmhouse north of ?rebro. The channel is basically my household manual now."

"That sounds interesting. Can you send me a link?"

With a half-eaten roll in one hand, he pulled out his phone. In a minute, my phone vibrated in my pocket, and now I had his number—not that it meant anything.

"Do you know the history of this cottage?" he asked.

"Very little. Old man Henke could tell you more. He lives at the end of the road." I pointed at the forest behind us, and Eric perked up.

"There's another house?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Yes. About two kilometers away if you take the right turn. It's hidden in the forest. Henke is nearly blind now, so he rarely comes out when the weather is bad. That was where I was headed with the plow last time."

"I had no idea someone lived there. I thought it was just trees and lakes all the way to Norway."

"It's Henke, his dog Selma, then a hundred kilometers of trees and lakes, then Norway."

"And you plow the road for him? That's nice of you."

I finished my roll and brushed the crumbs off my pants. "I'm the only one in the village who's got the machine for it, and Henke needs an access road for grocery deliveries and emergencies."

"I thought it was the owners who're supposed to do that. The Eklund family owns the meadows and the forest. They have a responsibility to maintain the roads, don't they?"

I blushed for some unknown reason. "That…would be me and Madde. She didn't take my dad's name."

Eric's cautious expression morphed into a smile. "We're neighbors."

"Technically, we are." I pointed over the meadow toward my home. "The main house is about a ten-minute walk along the forest, that way."

Eric looked where I pointed, squinting in the sun, then turned back to me. "You're not going to feud with me over how I trimmed the hedge, are you?" He grinned, all warm and sweet.

"It's on your property. If you decide to butcher it, I can't do anything about it."

He narrowed his eyes playfully. "I'd better stay on my toes, though."

"You'd better."

Eric bit his lip, and I wanted to kiss him.

The idea torpedoed me from the folding chair. What was I thinking? I just invited myself over to his place, and now I was…ugh. Just because he happened to be gay didn't mean he wanted me to…

Suck his cock.

My eyes almost strayed to his groin.

I needed to get out of here before I embarrassed myself further.

"I totally forgot about the time. I should go. Thank you for the tea."

Seemingly taken aback by my abrupt departure, Eric put his mug on the tray and stood to let me pass him on the narrow porch.

"You're most welcome. Thank you for the rolls."

I could feel his gaze burning into my back, so I made myself turn and wave.

He stood there, looking confused and a little sad.

I all but ran away.

The days were getting warmer,and I finally got around to cleaning the old patio behind the main house. The pressure washer grazed over the stone, the moss and dirt flowing away. It was easy, satisfying work, yet it didn't soothe me. I was only left with too much space to think.

Why had I run away from Eric's porch like my ass was on fire?

I was attracted to the man. He was openly gay and single. Why did the thought of kissing him terrify me?

It would be the best thing in the fucking world to have a lover, or even a boyfriend, who lived here. I should be all over that. I should be standing on his porch with a bag of cinnamon rolls every evening until he invited me inside. I should date the fuck out of him and marry him next spring.

I snorted. I didn't even know if he was attracted to me. A cultured guy like him might not go for…what did he call me? Viking slash lumberjack.

Besides, this was Gryta.

A little pot of people in the middle of nowhere, where everybody knew everybody, and everybody was in everybody's business. If I dated him, it wouldn't even take one day for folks to find out. And what if I got entangled with Eric, and it went south? Madde would kill me.

This was exactly the reason why I never said yes to Lars's frequent offers of no-strings-attached sex. It would have been simple and way too close to home.

I should do my best and be Eric's friend and not perv on him. Madde was right—he needed friends. I didn't even know him yet. Why was I obsessing about him for hours on end? I needed to calm the fuck down.

A flash of blue caught my eye, and I spotted Lars in his uniform stepping out of the PostNord car by the gate. He threw a thin package into Madde's postbox and paused to wave at me awkwardly. That was new. He hadn't greeted me for months.

"Hi, Bj?rn," he yelled. "Got a minute?"

I turned off the pressure washer and crossed the yard toward him.

"Hi."

I prayed he wasn't going to ask to suck me again. But on a Wednesday morning while working, that would be a stretch even for him.

"Uh. So. You like Eurovision?"

What?It was so random it gave me pause. "Not really. Why?"

"That's okay. I don't either. But the queer club…we're having the annual Eurovision finals party. It's just popcorn, cheese, and drinks at Olaf's place on Friday. Theo and Eric will be there. You should come."

Eric will be there.

"I'd like that."

"Yeah." Lars glanced around, shuffling from foot to foot.

"Thanks for inviting me."

"No problem. Bye," he mumbled and hurried to his car.

At first, I was stunned. Was I suddenly welcome in the queer club? I would spend the evening with Eric. Excitement slowly bubbled up, only to be squashed by unease. Shit. I couldn't make a move on Eric in front of those guys! And hadn't I decided I wouldn't try to hit on the man at all?