Not Only Opportunities Knock

A thump sent Ian bolting upright. “Fire.” He blinked around the dimly lit tavern and scraped a hand over his face.

“Muma ffee thawpp,” Danny mumbled, face down into the rug.

Ian closed his eyes again and flopped back down. Flygande wasn’t on fire, so they’d live.

The knocking came again, more demanding this time, and Ian’s eyes popped open. What if the neighbor’s place was on fire, and they were trying to wake them before it got there?

Why the only thing that kept coming to his mind was fire, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was all the fire that went down his throat last night.

Another knock.

“Mummfftthp,” Danny mumbled again, and Ian grumbled in response, forcing himself up.

If there was a fire, one of them had to save the other. Since it seemed Ian could move slightly faster than Danny, and had lost the bet, the responsibility fell to his sore shoulders.

He rubbed a knot. Why did they think sleeping on the rug over a hard floor was a good idea? Oh yeah, bloody whisky.

Pound, pound.

“Alright. Give me a second.” Ian shuffled forward in bare feet and gripped his thudding skull. He couldn’t remember taking off his shoes or belt and he pondered that mystery when he stopped at the entry, blinking. “Why am I standing here?”

“H-Hello?” a gentle voice said from the other side, and he plunked his ear against the door. “I’m looking for a Daniel Larsson and was told I could find him here.”

Ian jumped back and stared at the door. There was a woman out there. A woman who wasn’t Danny’s mam, calling him by his given name. That sobered him better than a bucket of ice and a shot of caffeine. He unlocked the door and swung it open to darkness, not seeing anyone. “Danny, did you hear that voice?”

Danny answered with a deep rumble from his nose.

Ian squinted to where a hint of light splayed across the horizon. It’d only been a few hours since they’d fallen asleep. He peered harder into the darkness, his entire body leaned forward and—

He yelled, stumbling back. A woman dressed in black from head to toe with an adorable cloche hat stepped out of the past and into his line of sight. Ian gawked. She even wore sunglasses. She couldn’t be real.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” she asked.

He startled. Apparently, he wasn’t having whisky hallucinations. “I ... ” He scratched the top of his head and blew out, rattling his lips. “I don’t know ... I mean, it’s okay. Can I help you with something?”

“A Daniel Larsson informed me that I could come here early to write if I needed a quiet place and friendly face.”

He rubbed his scruff. “Friendly face? Are you sure you mean Danny?”

“Quite sure.”

“When did he tell you this?”

“On the airplane.”

“Did you say plane?” The grogginess of his brain cleared and he slowly smiled. “You were with him on the plane.”

“We flew in together. Um ... ” She tipped up on her toes peering over his shoulder. “Is he here? Perhaps he could tell you I’m not lying.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re lying, and yeah,” he used his butt to push the heavy door wide open, “he’s right there.”

She gasped. “Is he okay?”

“Sure he is. Just sleeping.”

“I didn’t realize he had no home.” She covered her mouth with a gloved hand.

Ian burst out a loud laugh, and Danny mumbled something about him shutting the hell up. He slapped a hand over his mouth and pointed up. “See those windows high above the door? He lives in the apartment there but was too tired to walk up the steep stairs last night.”

He left out the whisky bit. He didn’t want to scare away the one woman who made Danny try to hide the fact that they’d met—and now he knew why.

With another quick look, he ensured the delicate, feminine features were what his blurred vision had seen. Tall and gracefully lean, even though her cloak swallowed her. She was timeless and beautiful, not to mention adorable, dressed like a living Agatha Christie character. The best kind. The one you think did it, but they’re too nice and pretty to convince you completely.

Ian took her in one last time. Yeah, he had no doubt Danny didn’t mention her because he’d been extremely attracted to her. “Come on in,” he said.

The wind gusted and she looked left, then right, her body tensing.

Ian leaned out of the door, looking with her. “That’s just Solsken saying hello.”

Still hesitating, her eyes darted behind her, feet shifting.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh. Yes.” She shook off whatever bugged her and removed her glasses, squinting as she stepped into the dim light. Her eyes dropped and glued to the floor.

Ian followed her stare and grinned when he saw those eyes were stuck on Danny. At some point last night, he’d removed his shirt and stuffed it under his face as a pillow. Not that it was strange—the man was a walking furnace. No matter how cold, he never slept with a shirt on. But he, like Ian, had also removed his belt and now his pants sank low with the top of his ass peeking out.

A snort slipped out, and Ian slapped a hand over his mouth to hold it in.

As if on cue, Danny stretched and shifted, making the dragon tattoo trailing up both arms and across his broad back flex and ripple. Without knowing it, his best friend was putting himself on full display for this woman. Who, from what Ian could tell, became timidly awe-struck.

Danny shifted once more, and his pants inched even lower. As fun as this moment was, Ian figured he should probably do something before he traumatized their guest with a full-ass-out. “Oi, Danny.”

He groaned into his shirt.

“There’s someone ... ” Ian turned to her. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t, but Madelynn.”

“Madelynn is here to see you. Why didn’t you tell me you invited a beautiful woman over so I could be dressed properly?”

Danny’s face shot up, streaked with lines from his crumpled shirt. His ponytail released scraggly, blond strands, and he blinked hard until his bloodshot eyes settled on her and went owl-shaped.

He croaked, “Claire?”

“No, Madelynn,” Ian said.

“Claire,” Danny repeated as his eyes traveled from her flushed cheeks, down to her toes, and slowly back up.

Thick hangover or not, he sobered when he realized where he was. “Shit.” He looked down at himself, back up to her, back down at himself, back up to her. “Shit.”

“I’m sorry to wake you.” She glanced at her feet. “You said early, but not what time. I-I’m not fully settled in my cottage, so I wondered if your offer for a place to write still stands.”

He blinked once, shoved up to a stand—grip holding his pants—and stumble-ran to the stairs behind the bar. The upstairs door boomed shut.

Ian couldn’t breathe. Laughter shook him so hard, and his head fell back against the open door, wiping tears. “Bloody brilliant.” He tried to rein it all back in. “Well, Madelynn or Claire, it’s really nice to meet you. My name is—” His hand shot through empty space and the sound of running feet retreated up the path to the gate.

“Wait.” He skip-hopped over pebbles. “Don’t go.”

“I-I made a mistake.” She rattled the latch on the gate. “I’m sorry. Tell him I’m sorry.”

Ian placed a hand on the top of the pickets and she and the gate stilled. “You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, I do. I didn’t mean to upset him again.”

“Again? What do you mean again?” She jiggled the gate, and he quickly changed his question. “You said he invited you here, right?”

She nodded and released the latch, clutching her small purse in both hands. “I guess it looks like I lied about that.”

“Not one bit. If anything, you showing up and him running away proves that it’s true.”

Her brow knitted together. “I don’t follow you ... Mister?”

“McClellan, but call me Ian.” He glanced over his shoulder and caught Danny’s bedroom curtain dropping shut. He smiled. “Listen, you’re new to Solsken right?”

“Yes. I’m on a retreat, so to speak.”

“Let me give you a true Isle of Sunshine welcome then.” He swung his long arm toward the door. “If you’ve not eaten breakfast yet, I’ll whip up some fika for you.”

“The Swedish word for coffee break?”

“I see you’ve done your homework.”

“But I don’t drink coffee. I drink tea.”

“Really? So does ... ” Not wanting to scare her off again, he kept himself from saying Danny. But yeah, against his Scandinavian blood, Danny embraced his mam’s English side and preferred tea. While Ian, the pure-blooded Scot, drank coffee.

No one ever said they made sense.

“Anyway,” Ian continued. “What I meant to say is tea is also acceptable.”

She hesitated and looked down at her pointed shoes neatly aligned together. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“No trouble. I manage this place and we’re happy to have you. V?lkommen.” He butchered the Swedish accent, motioning toward the door again.

She shuffled down the path with carefully placed steps and Ian followed, smiling wider when he spotted Danny’s curtain dropping again. “Nothing happened on the plane, my ass.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He led her into the main dining room, and she stared wide-eyed at the décor, soaking in every detail. She wasn’t passing judgment, but with the way she stood, poised and meek in her pressed ’20s garments, Ian was glad they’d had their cleaning fest.

She rubbed her thin arms.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.”

“Here, sit by the fireplace and I’ll get one going.”

She remained fixed in place, standing where Danny had lain a moment ago, and cautiously looked over her shoulder to the door.

Her staring made Ian check the door too. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She quickly faced him again and forced a smile. “Yes, I just don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“Not any trouble. This time of the year, the temperature drops quickly when the sun is down, and as you can see, the fireplace is already stacked with wood, ready to go. Come. Come.” He motioned to a cushioned chair next to a round wooden table by a man-sized fireplace, and he kneeled to light the dry kindling.

The flame licked the logs, and Ian clapped dirt off his hands. “Make yourself at home. It’ll only take me a few minutes.” He casually walked toward the kitchen and glanced over his shoulder to see if she was watching him. She stared thoughtfully into the flame, so he sidestepped and darted upstairs to the apartment.

Opening the door, he collided with Bulldog Danny.

“Oh, hey.” Ian pushed the corners of his mouth down, but they sprang back up.

Danny curled his arms over his chest.

“Madelynn seems nice.”

“Claire.”

“Yeah, you said that. Mind explaining to me why you call her something other than the name she gave me?”

“It’s what she asked me to call her.”

“I see.” Ian nodded with a thoughtful frown. “So, when you said ‘nothing—no one’ happened on your flight, what you meant was no one is called Claire, but only by you, and you did nothing, like give her a special invitation to come here to write, correct?”

He didn’t move.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Danny lifted a finger to speak but clamped his mouth closed again, stomping away from him.

“Come on, Danny. Clearly you liked her and that’s okay.”

He threw Ian’s belt at him. “No, I didn’t. That’s why I didn’t say anything because I knew you’d make a big deal of it.”

Ian almost, almost, reminded him of his grab-and-go reaction to her. Because not only did he watch them out the window, but he’d also snuck down to get his stuff before they walked in, probably listening to them through the door. Which would also explain why he was standing at the top of the stairs when Ian arrived.

“You know, it’s not a sin that you liked her.”

“Not now, Ian.” Danny ran a hand through his hair and felt the messy clumps. He cursed and tore out the band, smoothing it back, but his thick locks wouldn’t be tamed. He rushed over to the kitchen sink and shoved his head under the faucet. Under the stream of water, Danny slowly turned his head.

“Yep.” Ian grinned. “It happened.”

Danny groaned and slapped the spigot off. Snatching a hand towel, he rubbed it over his hair. “I do the dumbest shit around her.”

“I thought your disappearing act was endearing.”

Danny flipped him off and Ian snickered.

“Why did you get her to stay?” Danny asked.

“Because you invited her, and you wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t want to see her again.”

“I don’t need this right now.”

“You don’t need gorgeous women showing up at your door?”

Danny’s eyes squeezed into slits, prompting another grin from his friend.

“Look,” Ian said. “I’m not pushing you to jump into a relationship. All I’m asking is that you don’t throw away the chance of maybe enjoying someone’s company—other than mine, of course.”

Danny side-scowled at him and successfully smoothed his hair into the band so that all the shaved sides were visible.

“Nice haircut, by the way.” Ian was glad to see he’d returned to what he called the Viking cut. He’d had it long before that popular TV series came out, but Jess had convinced him to grow out the sides, which made him look more hippie, less him. Which also meant he shaved it right after they broke up. Thank the saints.

Danny threw the towel at him and huffed all the way to the bathroom, taking more frustrations out on scrubbing his teeth. Swinging open the door, he grumbled past his still smiling best friend into his bedroom. After more grumbling and clanking, he came out with a clean, white t-shirt, faded black jeans, and his black boots.

Having no more excuses to keep moving around, he propped his hands on his hips with a long sigh. “She’s upset at me, isn’t she. That’s why she tried to leave?”

“No. I think that had more to do with you running away from her when you saw her.”

“I wasn’t running away from her, I just—”

“She’s staying for fika,” Ian said. “You should come.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

Ian slapped a hand on his chest and stepped back, pretending to be shocked. “Doing? I’m not doing anything but having fika with an incredibly attractive woman and inviting you to join us.”

“Future priest, remember?”

“Priest doesn’t mean women aren’t attractive to me. It means I’ve chosen to marry the Church instead of them. Which reminds me, I need you.”

“No. Forget it. You invited her. You’re on your own.”

“I hate to point out the obvious, but you invited her. I’m just cleaning up the mess.”

Danny’s face twisted with everything he wanted to say, but didn’t. He relented with a defeated sigh. “I don’t understand why she’s here, though. I didn’t tell her where I lived, so I thought she’d see that as a retraction.”

“Wait, are you retracting? And why are we saying things like retracting?”

“No.” He pushed past him into the kitchen and busied himself, wiping water drops that splashed from the sink. “I mean, this is a public place where the public likes to hang out. So, who am I to stop her?”

“Of course.” Ian nodded emphatically. “Bad for business. Lots of different people come here for lots of different reasons.” He couldn’t keep his obnoxious smile under control.

“I know I said to come early. But why the hell is she here this early?”

“Maybe when you come for fika, you can ask.”

“Stop smiling, Ian.” Danny pointed at him. “She’s not here for me. Fika doesn’t mean anything. Besides, she’s still grieving for her late husband and only came here to—”

“To write and see a friendly face, yeah, I heard. Well, I’m heading down to slice some bread.”

“Which you can do without me.”

“But she wants tea.”

“You can make tea.”

“Not like you. Whatever that milky crap is that you drink.”

“Royal Milk Tea.” Danny glared. “And it’s delicious.”

“Wonderful. I’ll tell her you’re making it.” He swung open the door.

“Ian,” Danny whisper-yelled, but he was already halfway down the stairs. Ian laughed when a slew of hissed curses followed him.

Instead of waiting for Danny, Ian made the tea he absolutely didn’t need help with and set up the fika tray. If, by some miracle, Danny listened and came down, he wasn’t going to let him avoid seeing her by pretending to be too busy.

Coming out of the kitchen, Ian grinned. Danny hesitated at the bottom step, grimace on his face, the toe of his boot pointing down. Like if he touched down, he’d catch fire.

“Here.” Ian shoved the tray into his chest.

“There’s tea on here.”

Ian gasped. “How’d that get there?”

“Ian.”

“Oh, I forgot something in the kitchen.”

“Sure you did.”

Ian laughed and Danny grumbled, but to his surprise, Danny started making his way to the dining room. The fact that he didn’t keep arguing with him proved Ian was right. Danny really wanted to see her again.

Ian waited a few moments before sneaking into the dining room to make sure he wasn’t needed. But when he came around the corner, he froze.

Danny stood at an empty table, shoulders drooped, staring at a handwritten note laid out on top of some cash. The contents of the tray rattled in his shaking hands.

Ian hesitated. Should he go, stay?

Danny slammed down the tray. “You stupid bastard. Of course she didn’t come here for you.”

Ian ducked back around the corner when Danny tore out of the dining room and into his office.

He let out a long sigh and picked up the note.

Daniel,

I’m sorry I bothered you this morning. It won’t happen again. I hope this money covers the fika and any trouble I’ve caused.

~ Claire

It was innocent enough, but with what Danny had just gone through, Ian cursed the timing of it.

Knowing his best friend, he would use this as an excuse to pull back even more. To keep everything locked away and never move on. Never heal.

Ian rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. How the hell was he going to fix this?