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  Then it all stopped. She flew free as if she were an eagle riding the air currents. She left her body and soared into that dreamland she knew so well. There was no place as free as this. No place as magical.

  Afterward, she lay across the log, spent and delirious, for long, luxurious moments while the rest of the world caught up with her. Vaguely, she remembered hearing Lars shout out his release. Definitely, she remembered his prick spilling hot liquid inside her.

  The joy of a committed relationship—no condoms required, as long as she took her daily pill.

  Cold reality settled in. What have I done? She might as well have taken an axe to their relationship. In a few bloody strokes, she’d massacred it.

  Lars stroked a lingering hand across her ass cheeks. The tender touch released something inside Katia. Before she knew it, a tear dripped onto the snow. What was she thinking? Leave Lars, the most astonishing lover and human being she’d ever known? Leave the only decent relationship she’d ever had in her life? Typical Katia. Run and try something new. Run and try something new.

  Furiously, she blinked her eyes to stop the ridiculous tears. No regrets now. She’d bared her secrets to him and now he knew. Someone like her wasn’t meant for marriage. Someone like her wasn’t meant for a god like Lars Nordegren.

  Chapter Five

  Lars took his hand off her ass and pulled up her snowpants. “Come on,” he said, his voice tight. “Let’s not freeze out here.”

  “Give me a minute.” She couldn’t let him see her tears. Wild past, yes. Tears, no. “I’ll see you inside.”

  She felt him hesitate, but when she didn’t budge from the log, he trudged off down the path, not bothering to put his skis back on. As soon as she knew he was out of sight, she pulled herself off the log, huddled against it and hugged her arms around her knees.

  Now what? Pack? Leave? Move out? Move on? Where? To what? The magnitude of what had just happened sank in. She loved Lars more than anyone and anything in the world. No one had ever stood by her the way he did. Even her mother. Especially her mother.

  She wiped away the tears. At least now he knew the truth. He knew that the problem was in her, not in him. Slowly she got to her feet and tramped through the snow to her skis. She balanced them on her shoulder and headed toward the Nordegren homestead. The happiest home she’d ever known. The only one she’d ever stayed in for more than six months. Its glow winked through the trees. They still had Christmas lights up, outlining the well house in a star pattern. They’d even strung little bulbs on the big bare-branched birch tree by the arctic entry. They twinkled in welcome.

  As did the warm flicker of the wood stove reflected on the ceiling as she came closer. Lars must be stoking it even higher so the house would stay warm while they went to the party.

  Party? What was she thinking? They’d just broken up, kind of. Maybe Lars would want her to leave right away. No, Lars wouldn’t be like that. He was a gentleman down to the crooked nail on his left little toe. She smiled at the memory of the time she’d discovered that little flaw. As far as she knew, it was his only flaw. As long and as hard as she’d looked, she hadn’t found another one.

  Well, except that he couldn’t possibly understand why Katia Ann Pollard would die if she had to live in a box.

  For a long moment, she stood outside the cozy, sprawling homestead. Inside lived warmth and joy and hot sex and the man she loved with all her heart. Outside loomed the rest of the world. Adventure and wandering and loneliness.

  Loneliness. She shook it off and stepped onto the creaky stairs leading to the arctic entry. She propped her skis against the wall and used the grate to knock the snow off her boots. All these little rituals had been so strange to her at first. But now, shocker and a half, she’d actually be sad to leave them.

  Lars stood at the big old-fashioned cookstove stirring his chili. The hearty smell of moosemeat and spices filled the house. Moose chili, Nordegren family recipe. Apparently everyone in Wild clamored for it. Lars felt obliged to make it for every damn party in town.

  “You okay?” he asked without turning around.

  “Yeah. My ass is still attached to my body. It didn’t freeze off yet.”

  “Glad to hear it.” His voice sounded different, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “We should leave in a few minutes. You should probably change.”

  “You still want me to go?”

  He finally looked at her. “Why not?” She couldn’t read his expression.

  “Because, well…” She hesitated. He did get that she couldn’t marry him, didn’t he?

  “Just because we’re not engaged yet doesn’t mean we can’t go to a potluck,” he said drily.

  That little word, “yet”, sent her world spinning. She should correct him. Make sure he understood. “Um, but…”

  “Don’t worry, I got the message. Freedom, adventure, no boxes, I get it.” But he said it as if this was just another little road bump.

  She gave up and fled to their bedroom to change. One thing was for damn sure. Lots of alcohol or other mood-altering substances would be required to make it through the party this evening.

  Lars tasted the chili one more time, then put on his jacket and went outside to scrape the windshield of the truck. He hacked at the fresh layer of ice that had formed since they’d gotten back. He could turn on the defroster, but he felt the need to jab viciously at something. Then he got distracted by a new pile of snow blocking the entrance to the well house. He grabbed a shovel and dug in, enjoying the physical exertion. Working his muscles had always been an escape for him. He craved the bite of lactic acid, the feel of his body moving in perfect smoothness and coordination.

  Being with Katia was the only thing better than that.

  While he was out here, he might as well chop some wood. He trudged to the woodshed and tossed some unsplit logs next to the chopping block. He hefted his maul in his hand. Now that felt good. Nothing like a maul to bring out the Neanderthal in a man. No thought, just action.

  Crack. The round split under his axe in two perfect pieces. In weather this cold, the logs fell apart like toothpicks under his blows.

  Why couldn’t he have chosen a normal girl, someone who didn’t insist on driving him crazy?

  Whack. The axe came down on the next poor doomed log on the chopping block.

  Images from Katia’s stories kept popping up like nasty Jack-in-the-boxes. Tied up in a palace in Morocco. Stripping in Amsterdam. Damn her.

  Slam. Another log fell beneath his axe. He’d known Katia had a past. She’d hinted at it, and…well, he knew her. Knew what a sensualist she was, what a free spirit. But hearing the details…

  Wham. He picked up the splits and tossed them onto the wood box, which was already piled high. Soon it would be time to take down another tree. He’d have to get his chainsaw tuned up. Maybe this time Katia would be willing to try holding the chainsaw. She was stronger than she seemed at first, able to use her long, willowy body for leverage. Chopping wood was a piece of cake for her. But she wasn’t used to using her body for strength and power. No, she used it for pleasure. Her pleasure, and his.

  Crack. Splinters flew. Truth was, hearing the details from her past had made him harder than this maul. He wanted her more than ever now. But how could he convince her he didn’t want to put her in a box? He just wanted to be with her.

  He realized she was standing a few feet away, wrapped in a thick purple sweater with a hood. Her face looked pale in the light reflecting off the snow.

  “Take it out on me, not that poor dead tree,” she said.

  He leaned the axe against the chopping block. “When we met, you were giving celibacy a try. Remember? You never told me why.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Something new and different.”

  He didn’t believe that. “Are you sure it wasn’t because you were tired of how you’d been living?”

  When she didn’t answer, he knew he’d hit on something.

  “This box you keep ta
lking about. Are you saying you can’t stay in one place? That you want to keep roaming the world?”

  She nibbled at her fingernail. “No. I don’t need to do that anymore. I had enough of that growing up.”

  “So you could stay here as long as it didn’t feel like a box.”

  Looking wary, she didn’t respond. He hefted the axe onto his shoulder, put it back into the woodshed and straightened up the newly split logs.

  “Why’d you have to go and propose, anyway?” Katia hugged her sweater more tightly around her. “Everything was perfect just as it was.”

  Even though her question had a teasing note, he took it seriously. “Because I love you and I want you to be with me. Maybe I’m greedy.”

  “Oh, I see.” She shook a finger at him. “You want me all to yourself, naughty boy.”

  She did bring out his naughty side, no doubt about that. He closed up the woodshed and put his arm around her to lead her back inside.

  “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s go to our first Wild Nights party, get smashed and make fools of ourselves.”

  “Now you’re talking my language.” She skipped ahead of him in the snow.

  In the truck on the way to the party, Katia snuggled in the passenger seat with a loaf of bread on her lap. The chili sat wrapped in a towel on the floorboards between her feet. The smell of beans and cumin brought back all kinds of memories. How many times had he made this recipe? It was always a hit, even in Norway during the World Cup… The memory flashed through his body.

  “You know,” he told Katia, “I have my stories too.”

  “I bet you do, hot stuff.” She tossed him a flirtatious wink that made his blood heat.

  “Biathlon’s a big sport in Norway. They love us over there.”

  He hesitated. Thanks to his Swedish heritage and his old-school never-kiss-and-tell upbringing, he didn’t like recounting his sexual adventures. But maybe Katia needed to hear them. Some of them, at any rate. He cleared his throat.

  “We athletes love to have sex.”

  “I noticed that.”

  “We’re highly physical creatures. We like doing things with our bodies.”

  “Like what?” Looking sideways at her, he saw her eyes gleam with curiosity.

  “Well, after I won a World Cup race in Oslo, I was invited to have dinner with some women downhillers. One of them lived there, so we made it a potluck. I brought this chili.”

  “Who cares what you ate? Unless it was them. Teehee.”

  “Oh, it was. All five of them.”

  “Seriously?” In the light of the dashboard, her eyes flashed indigo at him. “You had sex with five skiers?”

  “They weren’t all skiers, as it turned out. One was a former figure-skating champion. A couple were snowboarders. They liked to party. Aquavit, a hot tub, me and five very blonde young women. Every man’s fantasy.”

  “Wow. Did you have sex with all of them?”

  “I’m not sure. I mentioned the aquavit, right? All I remember is lots of breasts, lots of girl-on-girl and a few nap breaks.”

  “Naps?” Katia sounded incredulous.

  “Hey, it’s not easy satisfying five women.”

  He sighed, realizing he sucked at sharing his sex stories. Katia looked distinctly unimpressed. He’d have to find some other way to change her mind.

  He swerved around a fallen spruce branch. Katia rolled with the truck’s motion as if she were riding on the back of a motorcycle. At night, this road turned into an obstacle course. He’d lost his last truck to a nighttime encounter with a moose.

  “So why are you telling me this? I show mine, you show yours?”

  He shrugged. “You seem to think I’m some kind of prude.”

  “No, I don’t. We have way too much fun together.” In a wistful tone, she added, “You’re the best lover I’ve ever had.”

  He liked hearing that. He liked it a lot. Maybe he’d been worried that she was comparing him to other men, that he wouldn’t be enough for her.

  “But it’s not even about the sex,” she went on. “You don’t have to keep proving you rock my world. Not that I don’t enjoy it. I love you for the other stuff, Lars. Who you are. I can rely on you. I can trust you.”

  Great, now he sounded like a fucking Camry. He clenched the steering wheel and turned onto the main road that led into town. To their right, the bluffs loomed into the black sky. To their left, snow-covered fields swept down to the ocean. The moon was just rising behind a slight haze. The beauty of Wild never failed to amaze him. Looking over at Katia, he saw the same awed rapture on her face. He sneaked his hand over the gearshift and rested it on her thigh. He loved touching Katia. Any part of her, anywhere, anytime.

  “I love you too. With all my heart,” he told her.

  He loved her. She loved him. Why the hell didn’t it add up to forever after?

  In silence they drove past Wild Lake, where the ice racers competed every weekend. Just for tonight, the town had smoothed the surface with a makeshift Zamboni—a piece of metal dragged behind a tractor—and created an outdoor ice rink. Fires burned inside two barrels and frozen skaters huddled around them with mugs of hot chocolate.

  “I forgot about the ice skating.” Lars shook his head. “That’s how much you mess with my mind, woman.”

  “Ice skating.” Katia looked longingly at the twirling couples, kids darting madly after one another, teenagers chasing a hockey puck. “I can actually do that sport.”

  Next year, Lars wanted to say but didn’t. Would there be a next year? “Should we go back and grab some skates?”

  “That’s okay. I’m hungry and I’m ready for a big, stiff drink.”

  “Amen to that.”

  They drove past the lake, nearly sideswiping a white van in the process. It had the words “The Fairbanks Renegades” plastered on the side in bold black letters. It took the curve on two wheels. “The hockey team,” murmured Lars. “That’s when you know the party has begun.”

  “Is that a real team?”

  “Oh, they’re real, all right. Just because the NHL has no idea who they are doesn’t mean a thing.”

  Katia giggled. “I like them already.” She fiddled with the ends of her hair, moving her hands through the strands. He loved her hands, so long-fingered and ingenious. Desire shot from the pit of his stomach to his groin. All of a sudden he was hard again. He might have to pull over right now and sink his surprise stiffie into her. Or maybe she would… He took her hand and put it on his crotch.

  He felt her little jump of surprise. But Katia was never one to back away from a hard-on. She ran her hand over his jeans. His cock hardened even further under her touch.

  “I already said you don’t have to prove your studliness, Lars.”

  “This one’s a freebie.”

  She smiled, the corners of her lips forming curlicues on her cheeks. He loved that smile of hers, and her lips. More than anything, he wanted her mouth on him. One of Wild’s two stoplights lay ahead. What if she sucked him off at the light? Who cared if anyone saw? It was Wild Nights. The name of the game was anything goes.

  She squeezed him. The pressure drained the blood from his brain. Through the singing in his ears, he barely heard her next words.

  “Isn’t that the turnoff?”

  What was a turnoff? Not the way her hand felt every contour of his aching dick. Not the way she murmured deep in her throat.

  Wait. Turnoff. She’d said “turnoff”.

  He came to his senses just in time to veer onto the road that led to the Gordons’ house. The truck fishtailed a little and Katia snatched her hand away.

  “Okay, I draw the line at car crashes.”

  He groaned painfully.

  “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”

  “I could pull over.” But by now a few other rigs were following behind. The road was too narrow to let someone pull over. He’d have to make everyone wait while Katia sucked him off. Not even Wild Nights would justify that. He he
aved a sigh and resigned himself to an evening of torture.

  Too bad, because he usually loved the Gordons’ party. They always threw a potluck on the first night of Wild Nights. People came and went all night, bringing home brew and mead and wine. Last year Ed Bartlett, who loved to bake, had brought pot truffles. The Gordons had the best sauna in Wild, and they kept it going all night long. Already he saw the smoke rising from the vent.

  At the thought of getting into that sauna, his whole body relaxed in anticipation. He could use some hot steam right about now. The guys would be there, and that always meant…

  An idea formed in his mind. Something so radical, so risky, so perfect. Something that just might convince Katia to marry him.

  Question was, could he handle it? Only one way to find out.

  Chapter Six

  Katia followed Lars up the path to the Gordons’ house, which looked out over the bay from a series of huge picture windows. The Gordons owned Wild’s popular mead brewery. She’d never heard of mead before she’d come to Wild and been served a glass of sweet amber liquid with a demented kick to it. Fermented honey, like they used to drink in medieval times. Trust Wild to come up with some random drink from ancient history. Everyone seemed to drink it here. Good thing she liked the stuff.

  The Gordons’ house was mobbed. A bonfire burned in a huge fire pit out front, surrounded by a ring of people chatting and milling around. The decibel level told her quite a bit of mead had been consumed already. Her mouth watered at the thought. The wraparound deck was also full of people overflowing from the house. A manic air of moonlight madness hung over the scene. Everyone talked louder, looked more animated, moved faster than normal. It was as if they’d all taken some kind of drug.

  “What’s up with everyone?” She tugged on Lars’ jacket to get his attention.

  He looked back at her with an evil gleam in his eye. “Wild Nights. That’s what’s up. This is your last chance to run like hell.”

  She eyed the manic partiers. One dreadlocked girl was performing a fire dance with two flaming batons. A man with a waist-length beard was passing out bottles with no labels. Wild had the best homemade liquors she’d ever tasted in her life. And the most potent. She wanted one, now.