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“NOW WE TALK about Bekka. See much love in Delaney eyes when talk about grandma. Tell me.”
“Rebekka Eriksen...” Just saying the name brought a warming sense of love coursing through her. Although the subject had shifted back to her, Delaney never minded talking about her late grandmother. She told Varik about how supportive Bekka had been, and how she made the trip alone from Oregon to stay with Delaney after Roger walked out.
Varik was wonderfully attentive as she spoke about Bekka’s fanciful Vikings stories, and why Delaney mistakenly assumed her grandma had been responsible for Varik appearing at her door dressed as a Viking. She wasn’t sure how much Varik understood, but he smiled and nodded as she related her story.
As she prattled on she felt better. It was as if Varik knew chatting would be therapeutic. She watched for signs of impatience or boredom but they never materialized. He seemed genuinely interested.
She teared up when she got to the part about Bekka dying. The pain of losing her was still too fresh.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry. My grandma was very special to me. I miss her so much.”
Varik patted her hand. “Sometimes cry is good.” Rising from the table, he headed for the kitchen, returning with a handful of paper towels. “Sorry for great sorrow.” He covered his heart with his hands. His kind words and sympathetic expression were so unlike anything Roger ever offered.
Her tears didn’t make Varik squirm or roll his eyes with annoyance. She had to stop the mental comparisons to her ex, but Roger’s idiosyncrasies were all she’d known for ten years. Delaney had no clue two men could be so vastly different.
Returning to his seat, Varik reached across the table, clasping Delaney’s hand. “One day you see Bekka in Valhalla, great Viking hall.” He smoothed his thumb over her wrist. “Happy feast with Odin for eternal time.”
Dabbing her tears with a paper towel, she smiled at the pleasing thought of her grandmother still existing on some plane, happy and free of earthly cares or illness. “Grandma promised we’d meet again there.”
“Delaney grandpa Valhalla too?”
“Yes.” She truly wanted to believe they’d reunited. “Grandpa Jamie died long before I was born. He was the love of Bekka’s life.”
“Sadness be for Roger too?” Varik asked. “Missing him?”
That snapped Delaney back to the present. “Miss him?” A strangled laugh caught in her throat. “No. Oh hell no.” She said it with such vehemence that Varik’s eyes flashed wide. His stunned expression quickly had laughter replacing her tears.
“Good. Delaney pretty when laugh. So Roger not good man? Make big angry?”
“He did. But it’s not polite for me to share negative thoughts about my ex-husband.” While Varik may be understanding, Delaney had enough brains to realize whining about her ex would top the list of things not to do on a first date. “He’s out of my life now.” She gave an indifferent flit of her hand. “Believe me, I’d much rather be lonely than miserable.”
“How long Roger go?”
Delaney huffed a humorless laugh. “Yesterday was one year.”
“No.” Varik frowned. “On Delaney Valentinsdag birthday?”
She nodded.
“What kind of man do this?”
Lifting her shoulders in the tiniest of shrugs, she lowered her eyes and stroked the handle of her fork. She had some choice answers to his question. None, however, would have been suitable dinner conversation.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said with a smile. “I’ve moved on and I’m doing fine now.” Delaney kept herself from spilling her guts about Roger’s unexpected betrayal. The only comments she could possibly drum up would be ugly and unkind, making her sound like a bitter spurned ex.
“Other woman?”
Delaney ignored the question.
“Tell Varik.” Those liquid blue eyes of his were as encouraging as his words.
“I appreciate you being interested, Varik, but I really don’t think I should talk about—”
“Ja...good for Delaney tell Varik.” His warm, sincere smile reached his eyes. “Varik listen.”
Silent for a while, she gazed at her plate, unsure about how much to say.
“My husband left me for one of his graduate students.” She couldn’t help the escaping sigh. “Several years younger than me. Roger told me in a letter. He said I wasn’t a woman of worth.” She blinked back the tears that still welled whenever she recalled the hurtful admonishment. “I-I don’t even know what that means.”
“What? No!” Varik shot her a look of astonishment. “This Roger bad, stupid man, not appreciate good woman...excellent woman of worth. Woman of beauty and kindness heart.”
Delaney lifted her gaze at his touching words, and watched as Varik’s features knitted into an angry scowl.
“Sun is on the beach.” He pounded the table. “Rotten buzzard.”
She slanted him a questioning look.
“Bad translation?” His eyebrows quirked in question. Drumming his fingers on the tabletop he thought for a moment. “English hard to learn,” he said, clearly frustrated. “Spanish and German easy.”
“You speak Spanish and German?”
Varik gave a confirming nod. “Also French, Russian and,” he held his finger and thumb an inch apart, “little Japanese. English most hard.”
“You’re multilingual. That’s impressive. You put me to shame.” The guy was amazing. Getting to know him was like peeling an orange, finding all that sweet, juicy goodness just beneath the rind. She was eager to keep right on peeling, wondering what other surprises she might find.
“I try again...” Varik closed his eyes in a long blink before speaking again. “Roger be sun in the bleach, rotten buster?” His hopeful expression crumpled when Delaney’s lips curved into an amused smile. “Blister? Busted? Base...” he shook his head and frowned, “no, not baseball...”
Covering her mouth with her fingers Delaney made a valiant effort not to laugh.
“Help correct words,” he said, obviously discouraged and thirsty for knowledge.
“Well...” an easy grin spread across her face, “I think you’re trying to say son of a bitch and rotten bastard. But, you know, Varik, I think I like your broken English even better. What’s more...I wholeheartedly agree with your opinion.”
“Ja!” Varik’s expression brightened. “Roger son of a bitch, rotten bastard.” An instant later his enthusiasm dimmed and his expression pinched. “Ooh...sorry...forget self. Excuse dirt words with lady here.”
“No apologies necessary.” Threading her fingers with his, she squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Varik.”
“For dirt words?” He eyed her strangely.
“For making me laugh. I needed it.”
He looked genuinely pleased. “Excellent.”
If things were different and she had an amicable relationship with Roger, she’d suggest Varik contact him for private tutoring. Her ex might be a rotten buzzard, but he was an excellent teacher.
“Did they teach English in school when you were a child?” she asked.
“Not go school.”
Nearly doing a double take, she asked, “Ever?”
“Until university in Oslo, and university here.”
He couldn’t have said anything more surprising. She had so many questions but the last thing she wanted was to make him feel uncomfortable after he’d been so kind.
“You like Varik tell story of why no school?”
Delaney responded with an encouraging smile. Listening would provide the perfect opportunity for her to sit and gaze at him.
She learned Varik’s parents died in a skiing accident when he was four. He barely remembered them. He was raised by his paternal grandfather, Anders Jenssen, a stern, good-hearted mountain man who kept to himself.
“This sounds suspiciously like Heidi,” Delaney teased.
“Much same,” he agreed.
She gave him a skeptical look. “Are you sure you’re not pulling my leg?”
“You like me pull you leg?” Straight-faced, he slipped down in his chair as if to peek under the table. His ready sense of humor was an uncommon delight.
Automatically scooting her legs back, she was determined not to let on how tempting she found his offer. “Never mind that,” Delaney warned with a playful smile. “Just go on with your cute, Heidi-like story.”
“Come.” Reaching for her hand, Varik had a twinkle in his eye. “I show you Anders fotografi.” Still holding hands, Delaney followed him to a room down the hall. Along with a variety of books, the walls were lined with dozens of framed photos similar to the ones she’d noticed when she’d first arrived. Most were black and white and looked good enough to be in a gallery.
“You took these too?”
“Ja, enjoy make fotografi for hobby.” He pointed to a series of photos all featuring the same older man. There was one framed and matted color photo at the center, surrounded by four smaller black and white shots. “Bestefar...eh, Grandpa Anders.” His fingers lovingly traced the outside of the center frame.
“Wow, the hair, the mustache and beard...” The grouping couldn’t have surprised her more. “These look just like...” Delaney turned to look up at Varik who stood behind her now with his hand at the small of her back.
Smiling, he gave an understanding nod. “Ja, I know...Heidi grandpa.”
“He’s even wearing those fancy suspender shorts.” She pointed to show Varik what she meant.
“Lederhosen. Not wear all the time. Only for München, Tyskland eh...” he snapped his fingers a couple times, “Munich, Germany, for Oktoberfest.” With a faraway look in his eyes, Varik broke into a grin. “Good school.”
“You mean he took you to the Oktoberfest as part of your education?”
“Sure. Drink plenty beer too.” He laughed. “Fun time.”
“Better than any classes I ever had.” Delaney joined him in laughter. Looking at the comfortable, masculine décor, she asked. “This room is your library?”
“Ja, bibliotek.” He patted a neat row of hardcover books. Delaney browsed his shelves, spotting books in various languages with a fairly even split between fiction and nonfiction, at least for the titles in English. “It looks like you’re an avid reader.”
“Love books.” He gestured around the nicely arranged room. A small table topped with a reading lamp sat next to a comfortable looking brown leather chair and ottoman, finished with decorative upholstery tacks. “Many good books here too.” His hand skimmed over a Kindle on the table. “Favorite room.”
She could definitely see that by the care he’d taken in ensuring the library was an inviting sanctuary.
“Sit.” He patted the seat of the leather chair. “I get Anders favorite brandy.”
She sank into the butter-soft leather while Varik headed for the glass doors of the corner bookcase. He set a half-full bottle of brandy and two glasses on the table. After pouring each of them a small amount, he sat on the ottoman and raised his glass.
“To Anders and Bekka. Skal!” He took a sip following his toast and Delaney followed suit.
As they relaxed and chatted she learned he’d been homeschooled by his grandfather. They traveled to Oslo annually to have Varik tested on his scholastic progress. By the time he was twelve, he was testing at college level and had been called a boy genius.
English was the one subject Anders neglected to teach his grandson. Most Norwegians were taught English all through grade school, learning to speak it fluently. Anders, however, was a proud old-school Norwegian who believed it was important to preserve their native language and not let English take over. He told Varik that one day, when he traveled to America, he’d be able to learn English if it was still of interest. That’s what Varik meant yesterday when he’d said it was his grandfather’s fault that he didn’t speak English.
“Bestefar not usosial eremitt like Heidi’s grandfather.” Noticing Delaney’s befuddled expression, Varik added, “Must to think...” Cradling his head, he massaged his temples. “Ett moment.” He went to the desk at one corner of the room, returning with his Norwegian-English dictionary. After looking up the words, he smiled. “Grandfather not unsociable hermit.” With an apologetic shrug, he said, “Sorry. Hard sometimes.” He stuffed the slim paperback into one of his back pockets.
“Don’t apologize. You’re doing great.”
“We live in small village. Grandpa excellent teacher...excellent friend.” There was a distant look in his gaze as he continued. “Good man. Much love.” Varik knocked his fist against his chest. “Next time I see him in Valhalla.” His smile was wistful.
“How long ago did you lose him?” Delaney was touched by the obvious love he had for his grandfather. It sounded like they’d shared a close bond similar to hers and Bekka’s.
“Two year. Still missing him like you missing grandma.” He reached into his back pocket, drawing out a little maroon colored drawstring bag. Inside was a foil packet. He opened it, holding it beneath Delaney’s nose. The aroma was a pleasant aromatic mix of fruit and tobacco. “Grandpa pipetobakk.” The word was easy enough for her to interpret without his help. “Keep close. Favorite memory.”
“Mmm, smells good. Like cherries. Are you a pipe smoker too?”
Wrapping it again, he stuffed the pouch of tobacco back into his pocket. “No. Maybe someday, when I am grandpa.” His eyes lit up with a smile. “Come now.” He stood, holding out his hand. “Time for play.”
Delaney stiffened.
“Guitar,” Varik added, with a mischievous smile.
“Shame on you. You did that on purpose,” she laughingly accused.
“Maybe. Love see Delaney laugh.” Taking her by the hand, he drew her up from the cushy chair. Once they reached the dining room, she started bringing plates to the kitchen but he stopped her.
“Guest no clean.” He clapped his chest. “I clean later. Time now for relax.”
This was an entirely new occurrence for Delaney.
Draping his arm over her shoulder, he led her to the loveseat in the living room. Back in the kitchen, he uncovered the platter of pepperkaker she’d baked, popping a cookie into his mouth and giving her a thumbs up sign.
“Mmm, very excellent delicious.” He put on a pot of coffee, bringing each of them a mug when it finished brewing, along with the cookies.
After turning the lights low, Varik started a fire in the fireplace. Flickering flames soon gave the room a warm, golden glow along with gentle heat. Perfect ambience for her date with the Viking.
“I’m not used to being pampered like this.” She sipped the good strong coffee, thoroughly charmed by his gallant behavior.
“No? Very sad.” He sat next to her, studying her for a long moment. “Varik change that. Delaney deserve feel special.”
He was so loveable, so caring and considerate. What an exceptional time she was having. It was almost as if she’d stepped into a fairytale.
Delaney cozied back into her seat, watching as he set down his mug and brought the guitar strap over his head. Half expecting to hear a guitar version of chopsticks, she was stunned when his fingers danced across the strings, playing a familiar classical piece.
“I know that. It’s “In the Hall of the Mountain King” by Edvard Grieg.”
“Ja.” He looked particularly pleased as he strummed. “From Henrik Ibsen’s play, Peer Gynt. You like song?”
“Very much. It was my grandmother’s favorite musical piece and Grieg was her favorite composer. When I was little she’d sing it to me in Norwegian. It brings back very fond memories.”
“Good.” Varik patted the guitar like it was an old friend. “You like I sing Norwegian words for you?”
“I’d love that.” This dinner date just kept getting better.
He patted the cushion next to him. Slipping off her heels, Delaney sat facing him, curling her legs beneath her.
Watching his fingers expertly working the guitar strings as he began the song’s introduction was almost hypnotic.
“Slagt ham! Kristenmands son har daret...”
His voice rang out in a bold, clear tone somewhere between tenor and baritone. The man could really sing! The swell of the music had tears brimming in her eyes. Live music moved her that way.
“I understand,” Varik said, momentarily breaking from the song. “Feel music here.” He touched his chest and then hers.
Watching his features change was fascinating. His eyes blazed and his lively, emotion-filled lyrics held her captivated. Hearing him sing and speak in his native tongue, without the frequent hesitation he had when speaking English, presented him in an entirely new light.
With the Viking at her side, so close she felt the warmth radiating from his body, she was in serious danger of swooning.
Once he finished, Delaney clapped with enthusiasm. “Bravo! Bravo, Varik!”
Rising, he performed a sweeping, theatrical bow.
“That was incredible.”
“Takk.” He beamed a smile. “Means thank you.” With a quizzical glance, he asked Delaney, “You know what song story about?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“Try my best to tell you English.” He rested his hand on her arm, further igniting the slow burn she felt inside. “Tore teach me English words to song.”
They sat silent for a long moment, gazing into each other’s eyes. Finally, Varik returned his attention to the guitar.
Continuing to play the song’s tune, he half spoke, half sang the words, playing the notes more slowly as he explained the tale to Delaney. It was clear he gave each line much thought so it came out correctly in English.
“Peer Gynt have dream,” he told her. “Enters hall of mountain king. Many trolls, gnomes and goblins there. King on throne. Crown on head, and holding—” He gave Delaney a questioning look.
“A scepter?” she said, acting as if she were holding one.
“Ja, scepter.” Varik nodded. “King’s children and family near. Peer Gynt come close to king. Mighty yelling begin in hall. Trolls of king say, ‘Slay him! The Christian’s son bewitched mountain king’s fairest daughter! Slay him!’”
“Ah, so that’s what the song is about,” Delaney said. “I’ve always wondered.”
Nodding as he continued to strum, he resumed the story. “Other trolls ask, ‘May I hack him on the fingers? May I tug him by the hair?’ Woman troll say, ‘Let me bite his haunches!’ Witch troll say, ‘Boil him into broth for me.’ Troll with big knife ask, ‘Shall he roast on spit or brown in stewpan?’”
Delaney laughed. “Good grief, what a bloodthirsty lot.” Varik’s explanation gave her a better understanding of the gusto her sweet grandmother used when singing the fierce lyrics.
“Ja. At end of song, mountain king say, ‘Ice to your blood, friends!’”
“Wonderful.” Delaney clapped again. “You did an excellent job translating. I understood everything perfectly.”
“Good. Hope so.” He looked quite pleased. “Soon I speaking perfectly English.”
“How long has Tore been tutoring you?”
“To uker. Eh...” Varik took another quick glimpse at the book in his back pocket and held up two fingers. “Two weeks.”
“I think you probably mean two months, not weeks.”
“Nei...no. Mean weeks, for sure.”
Incredulous, Delaney said, “Wait, you’re telling me you just started learning English two weeks ago?”
“Ja...yes. Never speaking English before that.”
Her jaw went slack. “That’s incredible. You really must be a genius.”
Offering a nonchalant shrug, Varik confirmed, “Ja, I told you.”
“And you’re extremely modest too.”
“Not know modest.” He looked confused.
“Yes, that’s obvious,” she teased, although she agreed he had every reason to feel proud and confident.
“Like song better in Norwegian or English?”
“Norwegian. It’s much the same as hearing an English translation of Italian opera. It never sounds right to me.”
“Maybe one day I teach you Norwegian. And you help me English.”
“That would be fun.” In her enthusiasm, Delaney absently touched his knee. As soon as her hand landed, she retrieved it. “If I had paid better attention as a child I’d probably be able to speak Norwegian fluently by now.” Her gaze fell on his hair, studying the way the long, thick sandy strands so perfectly framed his face.
“I see you look Varik hair many time.” He brushed a lock of dark blond from his eyes.
Oops...caught.
She’d never been a fan of long hair on a man but it suited Varik perfectly. “Long hair looks good on you.” She felt the telltale warmth of a blush across her cheeks.
“Long because live in mountains. I cut and shave,” he stroked his mustache and beard, “after finish being in Viking play. Better not to wear parykk.” He patted the top of his head. “Wig. Not to worry. Cutting soon to look American.”
“I wasn’t worried at all. I think it’s very—” She stopped herself from saying sexy. “Attractive. You’re the spitting image of a Viking warrior.” She tried unsuccessfully to picture him clean shaven with corporate-length hair.
“Varik the Bold,” he told her with a conspirator’s wink.
For the longest time after that, he didn’t speak. He didn’t smile. He just sat there watching her. At first she thought it was just wishful thinking, but soon Delaney realized his face was drawing near. He was leaning in for a kiss! A superb squiggly feeling zigzagged up and down her spine. Her heart thumped like crazy. Her breathing stopped.
Varik’s sensuous lips were kissably close. It was taking an eternity for him to reach her lips, which wasn’t really a bad thing because the anticipation itself was delicious. A million thoughts raced through her mind. Should she lean in or stay put? Should she whisper his name or keep her mouth shut? Should she—
“Delaney...” Varik whispered, his hands on her shoulders, his lips an inch from hers. His hot breath on her mouth had her liquefying. “Delaney...” he said once more, looking into her eyes, gazing into her soul.
“Yes, Varik?” she whispered back, her eyes half-lidded as she absently licked her lips.
“You go now,” he said, still within kissing range.
Her mouth formed an O.
An instant later he pulled back from her, abandoned the loveseat, and went to the kitchen, returning shortly with Thursday in tow. The dog had been so quiet and well-behaved, she’d forgotten he was even there.
“Time for end of date,” he told her with what Delaney decided, or hoped, was a look of sincere regret.
“Oh...?” What the hell had just happened? His was a mere breath away when he retreated. Maybe her breath smelled like salmon...or cucumber-onion salad.
“Must be gentleman. Delaney make hard to keep friendly neighbor promise.”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. She wasn’t sure what to say. The jumbled thoughts whirring inside her brain left her clueless.
She wanted to stay but if she disregarded his request to leave and did what she longed to do—shrug out of her dress, letting it pool at her feet in front of him so she’d be standing in nothing but her new black silk undies—Varik might think she was from Tramps-R-Us and all this nice platonic time they’d spent getting to know each other would go right down the toilet.
“It’s been a lovely night, Varik.” Her voice was barely audible. “The dinner was delicious.” And so are you. “And I loved your rousing version of the song.” And I feel like I love you but that’s impossible because we’re still strangers and nobody in their right mind falls in love that fast. “And I really enjoyed getting to know you better.”
“Ja, happy night.” He reached out, almost touching her, but let his hand drop, shoving both hands in his pockets instead. “Uh...loving Delaney excellent pepperkaker. Bekka’s recipe good.” His head bobbed.
“Thanks, I’m glad they turned out well.” Her nodding head mirrored his. She took Thursday’s leash and tugged. “Come on, boy, time to go home.” The dog didn’t budge. “Thursday.” Nothing. The dumb dog just grinned up at her. Glancing at Varik she noted, “I guess you’ve got a friend forever since you spoiled him with that soup bone.”
“Maybe Thor’s Day sleep Varik house tonight?”
“Oh I couldn’t possibly impose on you like that.”
“Is okay. He good dog.” He bent to scratch Thursday behind the ears. “We be friends, ja, Thor’s Day?” He got a big lick from his new buddy.
So that’s how the night would end...with her persuasive dog finagling his way into having a sleepover at Varik’s house when the pajama party should by all rights include her.
“Well...if you’re sure you don’t mind,” the green with envy Delaney said. “I can stop by and pick him up in the morning.”
“I bring him to you in afternoon. I take him to English lesson. Tore love hunders...dogs. Return Thor’s Day before I go Viking play, okay?”
“Okay.” Delaney took a step toward his door and smiled. “Goodnight. Thanks again.”
At a loss, she waved.
Varik waved back.
“Bye.”
“I walk Delaney home,” he suggested.
“That’s not necessary. I’m just two doors down.” She gestured. “Goodnight.”
“Godnatt...goodnight,” Varik corrected, waving again.
“Bye, Thursday.” Before she’d even had the words out, the disinterested dog had trotted back to the kitchen and his bone.
Delaney sighed.
In less than two minutes she was home, unwrapping the chocolate bar she’d purchased while clothes shopping earlier. She closed her eyes and sank her teeth into the creamy candy.
It wasn’t nearly as delicious or satisfying as Varik.