Three Swedish Mountain Men: Chapter 2

Of course she’s a tourist. Of course.

I hate tourists. None of them can drive up here. They just roll in with their summer tyres and expect to be able to navigate ice and snow. I peer inside the broken window and fight the urge to swear. She’s driving a foreign car, for God’s sake. The steering wheel’s on the wrong side. You’d have to be an excellent driver to drive the wrong kind of car on dark winter roads.

Which this girl clearly isn’t. She probably barely passed her test. How hard is it to swerve without knocking down a fucking tree?

I hate tourists.

I vaguely hear Eli flirting with her behind me as I examine the car. Her voice is soft and shaky as she answers. She sounds nervous.

She should be. She’s lucky to be alive. I walk around the car, taking in the damage. The back window is cracked, and the trunk has been crumpled in like a tin can. She’s left the key in the ignition, so I lean in and turn it. Nothing happens. Sighing, I pull it out, slamming the car door shut.

“Hey!” I look up. The girl is frowning at me. “What are you doing? Give me back my keys.”

I run my eyes over her. She’s tiny. If it weren’t for the soft curves pressing against her pale pink ski jacket, I wouldn’t even think she’s old enough to drive. Even though she’s about the size of a troll doll, she’s got her arms crossed, glaring up at me like she’s about to fight me.

I don’t have time for this. “Why did you honk your horn?” I demand.

She blinks. “Because there was a giant moose in the road. I was trying to get it to move.”

“You never honk at an elk. You’ll just end up scaring it.”

“Well, yeah,” she mutters, “that was kind of the point.”

I scowl. “Which do you prefer—a six-hundred-kilogram animal standing still in the road, or running around unpredictably? What are you, fucking stupid?”

Her eyes narrow.

“Cole—” Eli starts.

I ignore him. “And you were driving too fast.”

“I was below the speed limit!”

“When there’s moose on the roads, you drive even slower.”

“Well, sorry I don’t know the moose protocol,” she hisses. “This is my first time in the country.” She starts stamping towards me, but just before she reaches me, she loses her footing, swaying precariously on her feet. My hands shoot out and grab her before she smacks into the ground. Jesus. She can’t even stand up straight, for God’s sake.

“How are you this fucking clumsy?” I bark, setting her upright. “Are you driving drunk?”

“Can you please stop shouting? My head is killing me.” She snatches back her keys and leans heavily against the hood of her car, rubbing her eyes. All the colour is drained out of her face.

Shit. She’s not just clumsy. She’s dizzy. “You hit your head, didn’t you?” I say flatly.

Fucking great. Now, even if I can get her car to start, she wouldn’t be able to drive it.

“Sorry to inconvenience you,” she mutters.

I sigh, reaching for her face. She jerks away from my hands. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing if you’re bleeding.” I tug her fluffy hood down, freezing when I get a good look at her face.

Oh.

She’s beautiful. Really, really beautiful. Soft cheeks, massive brown eyes, and a little pink-valentine mouth. She shakes her head, and long, thick, chocolate-brown curls unravel from under her hood, falling all the way to her waist. Next to me, I see Eli twitch with interest.

“She’s not bleeding,” I tell him, my voice gruffer than usual. “But she’s dizzy, and her car won’t start.”

He glances warily up at the sky. “We should head back to the town before the storm hits, then. Get her put up in a hotel and call her a doctor. She says she’s staying in Kiruna.”

I snort. “Of course, she is.”

We’ve spent all day in Kiruna, stocking up on supplies. I fucking hate it down there. It’s swarming with tourists at this time of year, who all want to dog-sled and pet reindeer and put the Northern Lights on their Instagram stories. They look at the natives like we’re a bloody museum exhibit.

Eli sighs. “Dude. Come on. The drive to the cabin could take almost an hour if the snow starts coming down hard. We might not make it.”

“We’ll make it,” I say, with complete certainty.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes. I do.” I open the boot of our truck, pulling out a tow strap. “If we go back to town, we’ll get snowed in. I’m not spending weeks in that tourist trap.” I strap up the girl’s car, giving the cord a tug to make sure it’s solid, then turn to her. “Keys.”

“What?”

“Give me back your keys.”

She looks startled. “What? No! Wait, what’s happening?”

For a second, I wonder if she actually is stupid. Then I realise she didn’t understand that whole conversation.

Tourists.

“You can’t drive,” I recap. “Your car is totalled and you have a head injury. Which means you have to come with us. There’s a storm coming. We need to move now.”

She takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s already shivering in her flimsy pink coat. “But where are you taking me?”

“Home.”

Her eyes widen. “I don’t know you. I’m not letting you drive me to your home!”

“Fine. Die here, then.” I slam the truck boot closed.

Eli wraps his coat over her shoulders. “You don’t really have a choice, babe,” he says apologetically. “You’re freezing already. When the wind picks up, you’ll get hypothermia pretty fast. Promise we don’t bite.”

“I can just call someone to tow the car.” She eyes me. “Someone professional. Not just some stranger on the street.”

“Good luck with that.”

“No one will be coming out in this weather,” Eli explains. “Right now, everyone’s headed home to wait out the storm. I doubt you can even get signal.”

I hold out my hand again. “I’ll ask one last time. Give. Me. Your. Keys.”

She stares up at me, jaw working, anger burning in her pretty brown eyes. Snowflakes fall down between us, the flurry already getting faster. Without thinking, I reach down and tug up the hood of her coat again, covering her head.

She presses her lips together. Slowly, she opens her gloved hand and offers me the key. I take it and stick it back in the ignition of her car to unlock the steering, then head back to the truck, tugging the handle on the back passenger door. “In.”

She gives me one last hard look, then climbs in wordlessly. I slam the door shut and head to the driver’s side.

“Would it kill you to be nice?” Eli mutters, buckling in next to me. “She was just in a car crash.”

“I’m saving her life. I think that’s pretty fucking nice of me.”

“She’s scared,” he insists.

“You can cuddle her when we get there.” I turn on the engine. “Do up your seatbelt,” I order over my shoulder, then start the car.