Helpful Kenneth

The curtain. Danny’s heart pounded in his ears, muffling Tom’s voice asking Claire to clarify.

“He was quiet, and I didn’t want to disturb him,” she whispered, swallowing. “He drowned because I didn’t look.”

A knot formed in Danny’s stomach, and his eyes slid closed. He forced a calming inhale. Her jumbled words from the night before. The grief and panic on her face. Everything she said and did finally made sense.

She blamed herself for it all.

Claire glanced at him, and for some reason, her eyes went wide when she saw him. He quickly adjusted his expression, not sure what she read from it, but it was too late.

She turned to Tom and asked, “Are we done?”

Tom looked from her, to Danny, back to her again. “Yes. For now.”

She rushed out of the office.

“Claire?” Danny chased after her into the icy wind and yanked his slouchy over his ears. “Hang on.”

“Don’t worry,” she called without turning around. Her feet made quick work of the ground beneath them. “I’ll find another way to the airport.”

The knot in his stomach tightened. “We back to the airport thing again? Why are we back to the airport thing?”

“I’ll call Kenneth and he’ll come get me. Don’t worry.”

“Kenneth?” He stopped and screwed up his face. “Who the hell is Kenneth?”

Instead of answering, she went faster, and he took off after her again.

“Are you always going to run away from me instead of telling me what I did to upset you?”

She slowed a little, and he caught up to her. “It’s okay, Daniel.”

He gulped a breath. “It doesn’t seem okay.”

Taking off again, she said, “Don’t know why I didn’t think of him before.”

“Him who?”

“Kenneth.”

He panted behind her. “Friend?”

“No. Cab driver from the airport.”

The hair on the back of his neck sprang up, and he slowed. Cab driver? She gained too much distance, and he started up again. “Claire, hang on. There aren’t any cab drivers at the airport. It’s too,” he gulped another breath, “small. You rent a car or have someone pick you up.”

“Well, he had a cab.”

God, he was tired of having a yelling conversation while running. “What did you say his name was again?”

“Kenneth Greene,” she yelled over her shoulder, “and he was very nice.”

“Oh, I bet he was.” He gripped a side-stitch. A cramp was forming in his thigh. “Crook more like it. Did you pay cash or card? Claire, slow down.”

She didn’t slow. “Usually I pay cash for everything, but I didn’t think he’d have enough change.” She wasn’t even winded while talking. “Why is that important?”

“Because a card would have your name on it, and he already knows where you’re staying.”

She skidded to a sudden stop, and Danny groaned in relief.

“Why had he been so conveniently where I needed him to be?” she said, more to herself than him, then whispered, “Couldn’t be.”

“Care to let me in on what’s going on inside that head?” He bent over, grabbing his knees. She took off again.

“Dammit.” But he followed.

The gate at Flygande slapped open, and she jumped down the one step. Her feet swished into the tiny pebbles as she ran to the stone steps and up to the door. She jiggled the handle, but it was locked.

“Come on.” She kicked it.

Unused to hearing her yell, Danny eased onto the first step. “It’s solid oak. Kicking it will only break your foot.”

She let go of the door and hugged herself.

“Whatever you thought or think I’m thinking about you.” He took the next step. “It isn’t true.”

Her shoulders dropped.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He took the third step. “Something in the look on my face at the station made you think I was upset at you, but I’m not. How could I be?”

Puffs of her clouded breath increased, puffing faster and faster and he knew he was right.

“I prefer a kick to the face, Claire,” he repeated her words from the airplane. “And I’m not the backstabbing type.”

“We’d had another argument,” she said, quietly. “That’s why he took the extra anxiety pill. Me. I was just so glad he’d stopped yelling, I didn’t ... ” She swallowed and turned, tucking her face into the alcove of the doorway. “I should have checked on him.”

“Everyone fights,” Danny said carefully. “His death was an accident.”

She shivered and rubbed her arms.

Because that’s what I deserve. Her words from earlier hit him. Seeing her now—hiding, shoulders rolled forward, body curled into itself—she actually believed it. He took the last step and planted his wide frame behind her, blocking the wind.

“Claire, look at me.” He touched her shoulder, and she shook her head. “Please.”

She turned, clamping hard on her bottom lip, looking everywhere but his face.

“It’s not your fault.”

Her entire body began to vibrate. “But I-I should have known.”

“How, Claire? How could you have known?”

“Maybe if ... ” Wet drops spilled over the rims of her eyes. “If I just—” Her face crumpled, and a sob burst out.

His body reacted without him. Careening forward, his hands sprang out, but he stopped short. What if she shoved him away?

“Claire.” His voice was unsteady. “Would you mind if ... could I please ... ” Slowly, he stretched his arms out toward her again and whispered, “Can I hold you?”

She plowed forward, colliding with his body, and buried her face deep in his chest. He finally breathed, arms encircling her.

“It wasn’t your fault.” His hand glided down loose strands of her hair.

“Then why is this happening?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed small circles on her back, folding her further into him. “But I’ll help you figure it out, okay?”

A small movement stilled him. Hands tightly tucked against his stomach slowly slipped out and inched around his waist. Like she was testing his reaction. He kept still as slender fingers reached his back and spread out against the contours of his spine.

Everything shifted. He was no longer the one holding her, but she him. And with a simple press of her fingers, a gentle touch, weeks of tension and stress started to ease.

Then her hands began to move.

The cold wind faded into the background and he with it. He was in his room again, and she was in his arms. Everything he’d seen, done. The feel of her. Her responses to his touch.

His heartrate jumped, and his palms throbbed with the ache, the echo of her still in them. Her taste, her skin on his lips—

He squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn’t let go like this. Not again ... not with her.

Rummaging for another thought besides her half-clothed body stretched out in his arms, he pounced on the first one he found. “No more airport.”

She giggled and the thickness of the mood lifted.

“I mean it.” He smiled. “No more trying to escape to the airport or talks of creepy Kenneths. You stay and we figure this out.”

“Creepy Kenneths?” Her giggle turned into a chuckle, shaking her body. Oh, how he loved making her laugh. But to his great disappointment, her arms dropped from around him. “Okay, no more Kenneth.”

“Good.” He inserted his key and held the door open. She continued to laugh as she walked over the threshold, and he used the moment of turning off the alarm system to get his head on straight.

It had happened so fast—his shift from enjoying an embrace to wanting her—and he knew what that meant. Knew that he needed space from her to keep those desires under control.

How the hell was he going to do that with her living here?

“Hey, how’d it go?” Ian’s voice came from the stairs, with Emelie behind him.

Danny removed his hat. “He has what he needs for now. Where’s Fin?”

“New batch of whisky is going into barrels.”

“Should I tell Officer Murphy about Kenneth?” Claire pulled out a business card and held it up.

Danny snatched it and flipped it back and forth, one eyebrow raised. “Cab driver from the airport that only leaves you a phone number and a motel address?”

“Oh, my goodness.” She covered her face. “That makes it sound so much worse.”

“But there aren’t any cab—” Ian went quiet at Danny’s, yeah-she-knows-that-now look. Ian said, “How about I call Tom about Kenneth while you put your signature down on that paper?” He steered Danny toward the bar. “It’s Nordic Dive time.”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I’m not feeling up for it this year.”

“Perfect. Happy to take your trophy.”

“Over my frozen body.”

Ian grinned, and Danny marched over and started writing his name. Citrus flowers drifted over his left shoulder, and he smiled at the beautiful face peeking behind it. “You don’t want to know.”

“Oh? I think I do now.”

He held up the paper. “Every year when the temperature drops, a bunch of crazy-ass men strip and dive in the ocean.”

“Only men?”

“Solsken women are smarter than that,” Emelie said.

“Wait.” Claire’s brow lifted. “Did you say strip?”

“Most wear swim trunks,” Danny said quickly. “But there are a few purists who think that to embrace the true Nordic Spirit, you have to dive in stark naked.”

“Which one are you?”

He was so unsure of how to take her question, he literally sputtered and never answered.

“You’ve stunned him, Claire,” Emelie said in a deep announcer’s voice, holding a fake microphone to her mouth. “The man now wants to know if you’re picturing him naked.” She held the fake microphone to Claire’s mouth.

A towel smacked Emelie’s ass, and she squealed and ran as Danny chased her, whipping her. She grabbed her own towel and Claire laughed, watching them dodge each other’s whip-slapping towels.

After a loud crack, Emelie yelled, “Uncle,” and flipped him off. “Yours was wet.”

Danny grinned, holding his hands up in victory as he strutted to the bar and tossed the towels in a bin.

Claire followed. “That wasn’t fair, Daniel.”

“This is Solsken, M.C.C. Life isn’t fair.” He laughed when her finger poked his chest. He backed up, hands in the air, as she continued to poke him. “Look.” He grinned at her adorable faux glare. “If I hadn’t cheated, she would’ve.”

“Man-ape,” Emelie yelled. “You left a mark.” She gathered another towel, rolling it slowly.

“You said ‘Uncle.’ No take backs.”

Emelie made a show of dipping it in water.

“Shit,” Danny said. “Quick, Claire. Grab two towels.” He smiled when she giggled like a little girl and did as he said. With her crumpled face full of tears still in his mind’s eye, he’d keep this going as long as possible. “Keep an eye on your flank. Ian also cheats.”

She squealed and turned to Ian.

“I would never,” Ian said.

“He’s lying,” Danny whispered in her ear. “He’s holding a towel behind his back.”

Claire jumped back straight into Danny’s front. He swallowed a grunt, hands flying to her waist without a forethought.

“Are we about to go to war, Daniel?” she asked without looking back. Towel slowly twisting in her hands.

He was. But not war with towels or friends and family. He took a step away from her, dropping his hands. This was a battle he wasn’t sure he’d win.

Claire laughed as Emelie and Ian slowly advanced. Her butt did a little wiggle as she positioned herself to fight.

No. He was sure of it. He’d fallen into ease with Claire without trying. Without fighting for it like he had to with Jessica.

But just like then, he knew, no matter what happened, he’d be coming out on the other side of this a loser.