Chapter 6

Sigurd

I don't know what came over me.

A few moments ago, I was determined to pay her handsomely to leave and bribe her with a bigger, better vacation rental if she promised to keep my secret.

I was fully prepared to give Stasi anything she asked.

But then I'd found her bra and decided it would be a good idea to wash and dry it for her. While she was still in the bathroom, instinct took over. It went like this: She'll be wet and hungry, so I should build a fire for our dinner, and we can hash out a verbal agreement. Then the sun began to set, and I knew I would not have it in me to throw her out, nor could I leave her alone out here in good conscience.

The place is secluded. There are wild animals, snakes, ticks—who knows what else out here.

She can't be left alone in the daytime either, not when she can't swim.

I am aware that a woman can vacation alone.

Stasi is a capable, if slightly scattered, woman. But my preternatural self will not leave. Even if I had it in me, there's no way I could walk away from her.

Soon, Stasi returns with campfire sticks tucked under one arm and her hands carrying a tray laden with a large spiral of kielbasa, cheese, bread, crackers, and pickles.

My empty stomach roars at the sight of all this food. And my body aches at the presence of the woman carrying the tray.

Carrying the tray…

Something pricks at my memory.

Wild, red hair, large breasts, dancing eyes, pretty lips. The woman at the pub where I had found Etienne…the server who smiled at me and said that my brother and I were no trouble despite having made a public spectacle…

I tipped the server for her troubles. My brother had said something inappropriate, as he always does.

The server with the sultry slow blink, clutching her drink tray to her chest…I remember now.

I stare at Stasi, lost in those same blue eyes.

She's the one.

I'm such an idiot for taking this long to remember where I'd seen her before.

"Ana…Stasi," I say. It comes out as a rasp.

She seems not to notice my tongue tie as she squats down over the tray, prepping and slicing things.

"Wiener time!"

Wiener…time? Now?

My mind buffers because I'd thought she was as hungry for food as I am. On top of that, I thought she had no interest in my "wiener" after I'd hassled her about the life jacket. Plus, my comments about her not being a strong swimmer …

But if the lady wants the wiener, she wants the wiener. I understand the urge strikes when the urge strikes.

"Oh. Okay. I mean, yes. Absolutely, yes," I say, unzipping.

Stasi twirls around to face me, holding two campfire skewers.

"Here you go," she chirps. "There's a big hole at the bottom that's ready. Nice and hot. I didn't know how big you wanted your sausage, so I sliced it up the same as mine. I'm always down for a nice, long, fat one…"

She stops talking when she notices my fidgeting in the firelight and tilts her head curiously.

When Stasi's brow furrows in concern, I freeze.

She steps backward. "Sigurd, what's wrong with your trousers?"

My mouth goes dry and I can't speak, but fortunately, my hands still work. And, extra fortunately, the front tails of my flannel shirt hide that I'd already freed my swollen sausage from the confines of my underwear. Thank the gods for the semi-cover of darkness.

I say nothing but turn to the side, tucking all my business back where it belongs, and zip up.

Without meeting her eyes, I turn back around and swipe both sausage-laden skewers from her hands.

"Your Highness?"

I clear my throat and get on with the cooking.

No one says anything for a time, and thankfully, Stasi returns to prepping the food.

"Maybe you should step back from the fire. You're sweating like you have a fever," she suggests.

"Done. Plate…please."

We manage to plate the bubbling meat without dropping anything. Stasi kindly adds fresh-cut fruit, crackers, cheese, and mustard onto mine.

I settle onto the pad on the ground next to her, feeling better now that the moment has passed. We can both pretend nothing strange happened here tonight.

If I can avoid watching her wrap those full lips around a hot sausage, I'll be as right as rain.