Paramedic's One-Night Baby Bombshell
Autor:in
Amy Ruttan
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CHAPTER ONE
WHAT AM I doing here?
Dr. Josephine York—Jo—looked around the dark little pub that was filled with locals of Nubbin’s Harbor, which was going to be her new home for the next year.
It seemed friendly enough. It just wasn’t her scene. If there were pubs like this in Toronto, it wasn’t her usual place to go.
Not that she went anywhere.
You’re here now. This is the first step out of your comfort zone.
If there was going to be any kind of change in her life, then she had to do things out of the ordinary. She had to rip the bandage off and live again. She’d been living in grief and loneliness for far too long.
This was an adventure.
Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
This little inn was not her first choice. She’d rather stay in the new hotel, which wasn’t far from here, but they had been full up since the prime season for icebergs was coming. It would mean, according to the owner of the place she was staying at, that Nubbin’s Harbor and indeed all of Fogo would be full of tourists from all over the world. People came to watch the big hunks of ice make their way south from the Arctic.
Jo had seen pictures and was looking forward to seeing it firsthand.
Still, it meant lodgings were sparse so she should be thankful for what she’d got, even if she was a bit anxious at the moment.
At least the little hotel above a pub had rave reviews. It was a good-enough place to stay until her apartment became available in a couple of weeks. Gary was lending her his place, and until he left, the hotel would have to be her home. At least she’d had the sense to think ahead, when Gary had asked her to take over his practice, to buying a small car here online so it was ready for her when she’d landed in the capital city, St. John’s.
She needed a vehicle to get around Newfoundland with ease.
Not that she’d seen much of the island driving four hours through the rain and then taking an hour-long ferry ride to get to the island and then another hour to wind her way up toward Nubbin’s Harbor where Gary’s practice was located.
It was bitterly cold for a spring day this late in April, but then the weather had been nasty all day since she’d left St. John’s, and headed northeast toward Fogo Island, which was an island off another island. Yesterday, when she’d landed in St. John’s after her flight from Toronto, she had felt such hope.
The sun was shining.
It was a beautiful spring day.
It was mild, the Atlantic was blue. And on that sunny first day in the capital, the brightly colored houses and the blue sky had given Jo hope that she’d made the right decision to change her life completely and move to the eastern coast of Canada, leaving everything she knew behind.
It had put Jo in such an optimistic mood. It made her think, for a nanosecond, that leaving her life in Toronto was definitely the right thing to do. That even at thirty-eight, with a settled surgical practice, a house, and a great salary in the best city in the world, she wasn’t too old for an adventure or for an abrupt change.
There had been a time in her life when she’d been more carefree. Once.
As she glanced around the small pub on the edge of what people thought was one of the four corners of a flat earth, she suddenly wasn’t so sure about her decisions.
Come on, Jo. Where is your sense of adventure?
And she smiled to herself thinking of her late husband’s voice. Usually she tried not to think about him at all. She would throw herself into her work instead, so she could ignore the pain.
Only, right now, she was glad to remember his voice. David had always wanted to live life to the fullest. He’d been an adventure seeker to the max. He was such an avid adventurer that he’d even had to depart this mortal coil well before she did.
A lump formed in her throat as that sweet memory faded to pain, like it always did. It wasn’t as sharp as it had been, but it was still there, nonetheless. Gnawing at her and relentless at times.
He’d been gone for three years.
And it hadn’t been his choice to leave her.
An aneurysm had decided that course of their life.
Don’t think about it.
David had been dead for three years, and she needed to live again.
She wanted to feel again, she told herself.
Experience life.
She’d always love him. Losing him would always hurt, but this was a fresh start, and she needed to grasp it with both hands.
She straightened her spine and got up, alone in a pub full of locals.
What she needed right now was a drink.
Jo made her way to the bar and sat down on an empty stool at the far end. She was completely out of place in a room of flannel-clad, bearded men.
The live music from the house band didn’t help her clear her head.
And as she sat there, she was trying to remember why she had agreed to this change.
Because David completely haunts your life in Toronto, and you need to move on, a small voice reminded her.
It was true.
David was everywhere back home.
Even at work in the hospital. That’s where she’d met him, where they’d worked together and where he’d ended up after she’d frantically called an ambulance finding him unresponsive one morning.
She had come to the farthest corner of Canada, and yet, he was still here. Still around her. His memory was still reminding her of all the hopes and dreams they had planned.
A family.
Happiness.
Adventure and love.
Dreams that were long gone now.
Except, she needed a change. An escape. She wanted to feel alive again, even though that prospect was scary indeed.
So a change of scenery was just what the doctor ordered. Another province, the other side of the country, was as different as she’d dared to go at the moment.
David would’ve totally been up for an adventure like this, and this time so was she.
Jo was nervous, but she needed to get out of this rut she had been stuck in.
Maybe she could rediscover the woman who’d loved life.
“What’ll you be having, miss?” the barkeep asked, smiling and his eyes twinkling behind his bushy eyebrows.
“Some white wine?” she said.
He nodded. “Coming right up.”
Jo relaxed a little and took a glance around the pub. It might’ve seemed dark and kind of off-putting at first, but as she had a glance around it, she relaxed. It was actually pretty homey, and the more she looked at the patrons, the more she realized that they seemed genuinely happy.
It had to be the weather that was off-putting.
That was it. And miserable weather couldn’t last forever. At least, she hoped it couldn’t.
Her friend Gary loved his life on Fogo, and the only reason he was leaving his work here was because he’d been offered the amazing chance to teach at a prestigious medical school in Munich. Gary hadn’t wanted to leave his practice to just anyone, and so he’d reached out to her.
She and Gary had met in college. They’d gone to medical school together and become fast friends.
“Take over my practice, Jo,” Gary had said.
“Are you sure it’s right for me?”
“I trust you with my patients, and you need a change,” Gary had urged gently.
“Do I?”
“Yes. Ever since David died...you sound lost. Hollow.”
“I am,” she’d whispered, finally admitting it to someone.
“You were such a free spirit. It’s what I always loved about you. It’s what David loved about you,” Gary had said. “You have to learn to live again.”
“I’m not sure.”
“You want to, though. I know it, and David would want you to as well.”
“I do,” she’d said, because Gary was right.
“Come to Fogo then. See what I’ve been raving about. Please say you’ll take care of my place?”
Gary had convinced her. He wasn’t wrong. So Jo had jumped at the chance to escape her ghosts in Toronto and try to figure out how to live again. She’d been merely existing in a fog for far too long.
She laughed to herself as she thought about that.
Since she’d arrived here she hadn’t seen a hair of the place because it had been mostly covered by a fog bank from the rain. Hopefully it would clear up.
“Here you go, miss.” The barkeeper slid the glass of wine toward her. “Niagara’s finest!”
“You don’t have a local wine?” she asked.
“You won’t be wanting the local wine,” a voice said at the end of the bar.
She glanced over, and her breath caught in her throat at the tall, hunched-over, not-so-scruffy-looking young Viking a few seats down. He had the most brilliant blue eyes that she’d ever seen, under a dark mop of hair.
When his gaze locked on hers, a jolt of familiarity coursed through her, which made her blood heat. It was as though the instant she met his intense regard, it felt like he was a kindred spirit.
Like he could see right through to her inner pain.
Like he knew her.
It had been like that when she’d met David.
Her pulse began to race, and she could feel a blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks. She averted her eyes, trying to calm her nerves, but her gaze immediately tracked back to the large tattoo that started at the base of his left wrist and wound its way up his muscular forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his fitted cotton T-shirt. That shirt didn’t hide any of his well-defined muscles, and a coil of heat unfurled in her belly.
It had been a long time since she’d felt this heat, this kind of attraction for another man.
It was good to feel that jolt of desire again.
There was a half smile just underneath his well-kept beard.
He was nursing a pint of beer, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“There be nothing wrong with Nubbin’s Harbor wine,” the barman said brusquely. “It’s just only local folk can handle it.”
“Aw, Lloyd, you know that’s not it at all,” the handsome man said. “It’s disgusting, that’s why.”
Lloyd puffed his chest up. “I save the Niagara stuff for the toffs from Ontario.”
Jo smiled. “How did you know I was from Ontario?”
“Your accent is a dead giveaway,” Lloyd stated, moving away, and she couldn’t help but laugh under her breath. She never really thought of herself as having an accent before, but since she’d landed in the Maritimes and in Newfoundland, she was the one with the accent now.
“Don’t mind Lloyd. He’s very passionate about anything to do with Fogo Island,” the handsome stranger said.
“I can’t say that I blame him. It’s good to be so fervent about your home.”
The Viking nodded. “Aye, and we do have some good things here you should try.”
“I wouldn’t mind trying some local things. Although, I wouldn’t have pegged Fogo Island as a hot spot for a winery. I thought it needed to be a bit warmer and have a bit more soil over the rock?”
The stranger smiled, those blue eyes twinkling, making her swoon again. “Aye, it’s a pretty sad sort of wine that Lloyd brews himself. He has a few grape vines in a pathetic ramshackle of a greenhouse, and he fancies himself a vintner. If you’re not used to strong stuff or alcohol that tastes like turpentine, I would steer clear of it. And screech too.”
“Screech?” she asked, curious.
“Come on, every Canadian knows about screech.”
“I guess I’ve been living under a rock, then. I’ve never heard of it.”
The stranger slid a barstool closer, his eyebrow cocking. “You’ve seriously never heard of screech?”
“No. Is it like moonshine?” she asked.
His eyes widened, and then he smiled. “No, but maybe it has a similar kick. It’s rum—untempered rum. It’s from the days we would trade salted fish to Jamaica in exchange for rum. Those who first started drinking it didn’t mind its potency.”
“I don’t mind rum.”
There was a mischievous look in his eyes. “I’m thinking that you would be minding this.”
Jo had never been one to back down from a challenge, and if she was going to fit in here, she might as well get used to some of the local flair. Not that she was sure that flair was the right word, but untempered rum sounded a bit reckless, even though in her college days she could drink anyone she wanted to under the table.
At least she wasn’t on duty yet.
Maybe tonight was the night she became an honorary screecher.
“I think I can handle it, but first... I’d like to know your name. I don’t usually drink with strangers in an unfamiliar bar.”
He held out his hand. “Henrik.”
She took his large, strong hand in hers.
The simple touch sent a ripple of electric heat through her, a rush of endorphins that were most welcome.
And in that one instant she pictured what it would be like to have those hands on her body.
Touching her.
Waking her up from her fog.
“My name is Josephine.” Strangers got the long version of her name. Only those close to her called her Jo.
Henrik turned to the barkeep. “Lloyd, our friend from Toronto wants to try a fine glass of screech!”
The music stopped, and Jo’s eyes widened as a bunch of people in the pub turned around in their seats to eye her in fascination and amusement.
Lloyd was grinning as he pulled out a bottle and poured her a glass. “This is the finest I have, miss.”
Usually she corrected the person and told them her title was Doctor, but tonight she just wanted to be a stranger.
To observe.
The townsfolk would learn soon enough who she was. She didn’t want questions tonight. Especially since all eyes were on her, and she was about to guzzle down a shot of untempered rum.
Jo held the shot glass up.
“Wait!” someone shouted. “If she be from the mainland, then she needs to be screeched in.”
Henrik was chuckling, and Jo was now getting a bit nervous.
“Pardon?” she asked, clearing her throat. “I need to be what?”
“You need to be screeched in, lass,” Lloyd stated. “Does anyone have a cod?”
There were a lot of loud voices and some discussion, and Jo felt bewildered as she looked at Henrik. “Cod?”
He nodded. “You have to kiss a cod and swear an oath. If you’re not from here, then it’s the rules. I was trying to spare you, but since Lloyd’s already announced it, I think you’re kind of stuck.”
“You can’t be serious about kissing a fish?” Jo asked, laughing nervously as she watched Lloyd digging around in a freezer.
Henrik shrugged. “It’s tradition.”
“Aha! She ain’t fresh, but she’ll do!” Lloyd held up a massive frozen bug-eyed whole cod, much to the entertainment of the patrons.
A knot was forming in the pit of Jo’s stomach. A shot of alcohol was not worth this.
Henrik, as if sensing her trepidation leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You can’t back out now. Would be an insult to do so.”
You wanted to fit in, Josephine. This is how you do it.
The last thing she wanted to do was insult potential patients.
It wouldn’t hurt to kiss a freaking cod.
Some ceremonious fiddle music was being played in the background as the fish was brought over to the bar.
“She needs to kiss the fish and recite the credo!” someone called out.
Jo was staring at the frozen face, mouth agape, of the ugliest fish she had ever seen. “Seriously?”
Henrik nodded. “There’s the piece of paper, with the credo written on it. Go on. Recite it, kiss the fish and down the screech.”
Joe took a deep breath, picked up the piece of paper and read from it. “From the waters of the Avalon to the shores of Labrador, We’ve always stuck together, with a rant and with a roar. To those who’ve never been, soon they’ll understand, From coast to coast, we raise a toast. We love thee, Newfoundland!”
There was a loud cheer.
“Now, pucker up,” Henrik teased.
Joe glared at him. Gripped the bar with her two hands, closed her eyes and kissed the cold fish on the lips. It was so gross that she instantly grabbed the rum to douse the taste of cod and downed it.
It was rough.
It burned.
It was the worst-tasting, strongest thing she had ever had.
There was a lot more cheering, but she began to cough and held onto the edge of the bar for dear life as that liquor burned a path through her esophageal tract.
“Josephine, are you okay?” Henrik asked, while some of the others in the bar took their turns kissing the fish and dancing.
“I think the local wine might’ve been better,” she managed to get out.
Henrik laughed. “Come on, let’s get some air.”
Jo gladly went with Henrik. She instinctively knew he was someone she could trust, and she liked how he made her feel. She wanted to get to know him better, even if only for one night, because she wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship. She also needed to get away from that cod. She hadn’t kissed anyone since her husband had passed. It figured: the first time she managed to get up the courage to be intimate with anyone and it was a dead fish.
Henrik didn’t think that the beautiful stranger had it in her.
Usually, when he came across tourists that were alone and female, they weren’t really into having a screech-in. Those that participated in the ceremony were usually with a group of friends and were already three sheets to the wind. They would also approach him. Not that anything would ever happen the first night. When he took them to his bed, they were always sober.
Of course, most tourists knew what screech was and didn’t have to ask. Although something nagged at him that she wasn’t a usual tourist, only because she was on her own. She seemed out of place.
A little lost. He knew that look well. He’d seen it reflected in his own eyes from time to time.
He admired her strength and her determination to take on the challenge, sober.
Henrik didn’t often find those qualities in the women that passed through Fogo Island, and they were his specialty. Women who just passed through. Those were his preference because then it was never long-term.
It was always short-term.
It was a fling.
There was no commitment, and that was exactly what Henrik Nielsen wanted.
He had tried to have forever, and that had bitten him squarely on his nose, and he wasn’t falling for that again. So he had vacation flings with the women he fancied, and that was all. It was perfect.
Not that he had been planning on meeting anyone tonight.
He usually liked to stick around for a while. At least a week. That’s how long women tended to stay, but he couldn’t this time. He was headed out of town for a month with the coast guard for training at sea rescue farther up the coast of Labrador.
And he was flying out tomorrow morning. Even by his standards, that wasn’t enough time for a fling. He should walk away from her, but he’d discovered he couldn’t.
There had been something in her eyes. Almost like he saw himself reflected back in them, and he was incredibly drawn to her. He couldn’t quite pin it down, but he just wasn’t able to tear himself away. Maybe because she was quiet and reserved, yet spoke her mind, and she seemed to be kind and gentle.
Most women were only with him for one thing, and he was fine with that.
He didn’t want a relationship.
Liar.
He shook that voice away.
All he’d planned tonight was a quiet pint at Lloyd’s before he shipped out, and then she’d walked into the pub.
Josephine had absolutely taken his breath away.
It was like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning the moment their eyes met across the bar.
She was stunning. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman who had taken his breath away like that.
Yes, you can. Melissa.
It had been some time since he’d really let himself think about the woman who had broken his heart. He had been so in love with Melissa. They had grown up together here in Nubbin’s Harbor. She’d moved away to Vancouver, but then when she and Henrik were both twenty-two, she’d come back to stay with her grandparents for a bit. He’d fallen head over heels for her.
She had family all over Fogo, and they were Newfoundlanders through and through.
Just like his family.
For him, it was only natural they should get married. They were going to run away together because her family didn’t want them to get married right away, and neither did his late grandmother, who’d raised him when his parents had died.
She’d wanted him to make a life for himself first, but he was a fool and had been blinded by love.
Maybe they knew more than he did, because he had been so smitten he couldn’t see. He wanted the same kind of love his late parents had had when they’d been alive and it had been the three of them against the world, until that storm had struck, leaving him orphaned.
Henrik had never forgotten the love, though. The feeling of family. He’d wanted that so badly, and he thought he’d found it with Melissa.
Only, he hadn’t.
He’d started his paramedic training, then come back for her so they could marry, but she was already gone. She’d moved back to the West Coast. She’d decided she didn’t want to stay on Fogo, and he couldn’t leave his gran or his life in Newfoundland.
All that Melissa had left for him was a note saying goodbye.
He’d been heartbroken, embarrassed, humiliated. Love was only an illusion. Melissa had shattered his trust, and Henrik had dealt with enough pain. It was far easier to harden his heart.
As much as he longed for family, he knew the anguish of losing it all and being left alone.
That was something he never wanted to feel again.
So he’d focused on his career as a first responder. That was what he’d always wanted to do. Save lives so others didn’t feel pain or loss like he had. He’d worked long days and nights. Work kept him so busy that he didn’t think about how badly Melissa had hurt him.
Much.
All he could rely on was Fogo Island and his work.
Those two things never let him down like love had.
Sweeping beautiful strangers off their feet for a week was a distraction. It was safe because he liked being a vacation boyfriend. He knew better than to fall deeply for a woman not from the Rock. Or to ever fall in love. The island didn’t change, but people left.
He certainly wasn’t ever going to leave.
All his precious memories were here. Fogo was in his blood... It was his roots.
It was home.
If he left, he’d let down the memories of his ancestors.
And since he was the only one who remained, he had to stay so he’d never forget. And so Fogo would never forget his family.
Flings were a nice distraction from loneliness. It was easy, there were no strings and, because he was planning on leaving tomorrow, he hadn’t thought of approaching Josephine, the woman with the honey-colored hair and beautiful green eyes who sat a couple seats down at the bar.
Yet, he couldn’t help himself. Something about her drew him to her.
And when she’d leaned over, those luscious pink lips puckering up to kiss the cod, for the first time in his almost thirty-one years, he’d envied a fish.
“How was it?” he asked, as they headed outside.
She reached out and gripped his arm as if holding on for dear life. “God-awful.”
He laughed. “Aye, well, it is strong.”
“No, I wasn’t commenting on the screech, though it does have a very antiseptic burn to it.”
“Then, what?”
“The cod.” Josephine shuddered. “That is a...gross tradition.”
Henrik chuckled softly. “Some people like to eat the lips of the cod and the cheeks.”
“Are you serious?”
“Have I lied to you yet?” he teased, laughing.
“I would never call you a liar,” she said.
“I know, but cod lips and cheeks are quite the delicacy.”
“That sounds terrifying.” Shivering, she pulled her wrap tighter around her.
Henrik pulled off his sherpa jacket and wrapped it around her.
“Thanks,” she whispered, through chattering teeth.
“My pleasure. Anyone who drinks screech like that and complains about the cod more than the liquor deserves my respect and admiration.”
She laughed, and then he smiled. Josephine had a wonderful laugh that warmed his heart. It was a good thing that he was leaving tomorrow. She would be a dangerous woman to get to know: he was feeling things toward her that he’d sworn he would never allow again.
“I should try and find some dinner or something. I haven’t eaten a thing since I left St. John’s this morning.”
“Well, Cherry’s Kitchen is just around the corner. She has the best home-cooked food around.”
“That sounds good.”
She seemed to hesitate, her cheeks flushing pink. “I don’t usually do this, but I’m alone, and you seem nice...and you know Fogo.”
“Aye, I am, and I do.” He grinned, winking.
“Would you like to join me? I could use some company.”
Say no. Say no.
“I’d like that.” He cursed himself inwardly at not being able to resist her.
He should go home and get some sleep, only he couldn’t seem to make himself leave.
Why was he so drawn to her? When they had shaken hands, he’d felt a rush of fire in his veins. A tingle of anticipation as he’d pictured how soft and warm the rest of her was.
Henrik swallowed, his mouth dry and his pulse thundering in his ears.
What harm could one night do?
It might be a pleasant way to pass the time before he left. They made their way around the corner to Cherry’s Kitchen.
It was quiet, and they found a table near the back. Josephine took off his coat and handed it back to him as they sat down. He wanted to ask her why she was passing through. He wanted to get to know her better, which was strange. He never did want to know much about a woman he was seeing for such a short time.
And that was maybe because he wasn’t planning on doing anything with her.
What was coming over him?
You’re lonely.
But he shook that thought away. Loneliness was easier to bear than pain.
Was it, though?
“What’s good here?” Josephine asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Fish?” he teased.
Josephine wrinkled her nose. “I think I’ll stick to the salad tonight.”
“Because of the fish?” he asked, trying not to smile.
“Are you telling me the salad isn’t safe to eat? Is there fish in the salad?”
Henrik laughed and winked. “You’re safe. I’m just having a bit of fun with you.”
“That’s a relief.”
Henrik leaned over the table. “You’re not going to fare very well here if you dislike fish.”
“I don’t hate fish... It’s just I’m going to have nightmares of fish lips for some time.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Henrik agreed.
The waitress came over and took their orders and assured Josephine that there was no fish in the beet salad.
“So tell me about Fogo,” Josephine said.
“What would you like to know?” he asked.
“If there’s anything in particular I should see while I’m here?”
“The Fogo Island Inn is a marvel, and there’s lots of little shops, craft stores to visit. You should really buy a Fogo Island quilt. They keep you warm in the winter.”
“You’re very versed in crafts,” she teased.
Henrik grinned. “Well, I am a man of mystery.”
Her eyes twinkled, and she tucked back her long hair. He wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers through it. It was probably soft and smelled good.
He wondered where he could kiss her that would make her sigh. Maybe it was her neck that would do it?
“You have quite the tattoo,” Josephine remarked.
Henrik glanced down. “It’s a tree. My family tree and the sea. It’s a part of us all, here.”
She reached out and touched it. “It’s very beautiful.”
Her touch sent heat rushing through him.
“Thank you. Do you have any tattoos?”
“No,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “I was never that brave.”
“Oh? Is it the needles?”
“Yes. And pain...for myself.”
He cocked a teasing eyebrow. “Oh? So you enjoy inflicting pain on others, then? I didn’t think you were into that, but I’m game if you are.” He’d forgotten himself for a moment. It was so easy to tease her, joke around, and he held his breath hoping he hadn’t offended her.
She was smiling, but her blush deepened. “I’m not into that, but it’s good to know where you’re at.”
She was teasing him right back.
Henrik laughed. She was wonderful to talk to. It felt like he didn’t have to try so hard with her, as though he’d known her for a long time. It was like talking to one of his old friends.
It was refreshing. He hadn’t felt this way in a very long time.
He wanted to get to know her better, but what was the point? He was leaving.
And so was she.
So he didn’t ask. Even though he wanted to.
That thought scared him, but not enough to make him leave.
He couldn’t.
She was engaging company, and he was hungrier for it than he’d realized.
The waitress brought over their food, and they had a pleasant dinner talking about nothing important, but it still felt nice.
It felt right.
Which was a scary prospect indeed. He wouldn’t risk his heart for anything.
The more he talked to her, the more he forgot about all the rules that he’d put into place to keep women like her at bay. He usually compartmentalized his flings. He knew where to put them in his heart so he didn’t get attached and it was easy to walk away.
Henrik was not doing that here.
Usually, that was a warning to stay away. He had been burned by love before, but since he wouldn’t see her again, it might be worth the risk. He was incredibly attracted to Josephine. She was funny, smart, beautiful.
He wanted to know more about her, which made her dangerous, but his flight out tomorrow meant that it might be okay to live a bit dangerously. Even just for a night.
They paid for their meals and left Cherry’s Kitchen as she was closing for the night. They walked down the hill, back to the pub and the only hotel in Nubbin’s Harbor. There were a few of the locals hanging about, and there was boisterous fiddle music coming from the pub at the bottom.
“Thanks for walking me back.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“I hope I’m not keeping you from something. Are you local?”
“Yes, but I’m leaving the island tomorrow for work.”
A brief look of disappointment crossed her face. It was just a fraction of a moment, and he wasn’t completely sure that it was disappointment. Maybe that’s what he was feeling and he was projecting it onto her. Josephine was a stranger, after all.
A gorgeous stranger.
“You’re not from here, though,” Henrik teased, trying to defuse the tension that had settled between them as they stood toe to toe in the cool spring night.
“As we discussed in the bar, I’m the toff from Toronto.”
“In Ontario.”
“Yes, I was born and raised in Ontario’s prettiest town.”
“Isn’t that Toronto?” he teased. “The way Torontonians talk...”
Josephine laughed. “No. Toronto is great, but it’s not the prettiest town in the province.”
“Oh?” he asked. “Where is that, then?”
“Goderich. It’s on the southeast shore of Lake Huron.”
“And what’s it known for, besides being the prettiest?” he asked.
“Salt.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“What’s Nubbin’s Harbor known for, besides screech, Lloyd’s turpentine wine and cod lips?”
He chuckled. “There’s a lighthouse.”
“That’s it?”
“The icebergs will come soon, but the fishing that Nubbin’s Harbor was known for is gone. Government restrictions and the like.”
Josephine nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Most go to town to work,” he sighed. “Not many have stayed.”
They stood there in silence, and it began to rain.
“I better go upstairs.”
“Aye, well...” He couldn’t finish was he was going to say. Instead he just leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Her skin was soft, and she smelled sweet, like vanilla. He bet those lips were just as sweet to taste. Henrik stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles and felt her tremble. He was going to step away, but instead she grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him close.
Pulled him up against her lithe body, and he got to taste those full, soft lips that were so inviting. She deepened the kiss, her tongue entwining with his, and he cupped her silky hair in his hands as he drank her in.
It would be a bad idea, if he wasn’t leaving. He was enjoying his brief time with her far too much. He wouldn’t mind being hers for a week, but that’s all he could give her.
Josephine was a temptation. A complete and utter temptation, and even though he should walk away, he couldn’t help himself.
Especially not when she had been the one to pull him close.
She broke off the kiss. “Would you like to come up to my room for another shot of screech?”
Say no.
“Aye. I would like that.”
Josephine smiled, her green eyes bewitching as she took him by the hand and led him inside the pub.
He knew he shouldn’t, but the appeal was too great.
Josephine was going to be hard to walk away from, but he was certain one night wasn’t going to put his heart in danger.
One night wouldn’t change anything.
It never did, and Josephine would be gone when he got back.
No one ever stayed.
Only him.
Jo still couldn’t quite believe this was happening. The first time she’d met David, she had been a bit rash. She had initiated their first kiss then too. David always teased her that she knew exactly what she wanted, and she’d go for it.
The moment she saw Henrik in the pub, she knew she wanted him.
She was incredibly attracted to him.
While she was with him, she felt like her old self.
And the more she talked to Henrik, the more comfortable she was.
The more she wanted him.
What she wanted was to get out of this funk. She wanted to the rip that bandage off.
Coming to Fogo for the year was to wake her up out of this haze she’d been living in the last three years. How could she move on in her life if she never took another chance? Henrik was going to be leaving soon. He was handsome and kind. She was attracted to him. He’d already mentioned he wasn’t into long-term relationships, and she’d told him she wasn’t either. So why not indulge?
It had been a long time since she’d felt any kind of pull like that toward another person. This was her new start. A way to find herself again. So she invited Henrik up for a drink. Truth be told, she was a bit lonely.
And scared.
It had been so wonderful to have a conversation with a man again. After David died, she’d thrown herself into her work. It was work, and then home. That was it.
Now she needed a reset to her life.
She was trembling as she pulled out her key card to open the door to her hotel room.
“Are you okay?” Henrik asked, gently.
“I’m fine,” Jo said, flicking on the light and hoping her voice didn’t shake.
“Look, I don’t mind sitting and talking,” Henrik said, following her into the room. “I’m not expecting anything, and truth be told, I was enjoying our conversation. I’m definitely not looking for anything ongoing.”
Jo smiled and shut the door. “I appreciate you telling me that. I’m not interested in that either.”
“I won’t lie. I did enjoy the kiss as well as the conversation.”
Warmth spread across her cheeks. “I did as well.”
Henrik moved closer to her, and her breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing.
“Did you, now?” he asked, softly.
“I-it’s been some time...” she stammered nervously.
Henrik reached out and brushed his knuckles gently on her cheek again. Heat flooded her body. All that fear she had been feeling melted away.
She needed this. She wanted to feel something, to live again so that, maybe one day, she wouldn’t be so scared if Mr. Right came along again, though she seriously doubted that would happen.
She wasn’t that lucky.
Henrik was here, right now, and it had been a long time since she had been so attracted to someone.
She wanted this. She wanted him.
For just one night.
The first step in finding herself again.
“How about that drink?” he asked, his voice deep, husky and full of promise.
“I don’t actually have anything,” she whispered. Now she was trembling for a whole other reason, and she strengthened her resolve to be with him tonight.
He grinned, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the room.
“Your lips are good enough for me.”
It was a corny line, but she fell for it. The first time she had kissed him she’d felt a jolt of electricity. Now, with him kissing her, her body turned into a live wire. Like she was being woken up after a long sleep.
This is what she needed.
One night of passion.
She didn’t need forever. She’d thought she’d had that once, and she was never going to risk her heart for a forever again.
