Meant To Be Yours

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You around?

A bit later, she responded. Are you asking what I think you’re asking?

He picked up his phone and called her.

“I was asking if we could talk,” he said when she answered. “I watched all those movies you suggested and I have a lot of questions.” And an interest in seeing her because it had been a few days and even while watching the movies, she’d been on his mind.

“Oh. Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

“What else would I be asking?”

“I thought maybe a polite version of ‘u up.’ You know—the texting question about a booty call.”

“I didn’t know that.” He paused. “Maybe I knew that, but I wasn’t thinking about that.”

She chuckled. “Apparently we need a code word. And to be honest, some foreplay, because I would need more than ‘u up’ to get me in the mood.”

“I can be all about foreplay. What would you like?” Because while he had wanted to ask her some questions, they could wait until after. “Or I could come over and figure it out.”

“I can’t. I have my period and I feel awful. And while that probably falls under the category of TMI, it’s true.”

“I’m sorry. Can I do anything?”

“I wish, but this is my problem. However, I am available to school you on the mysterious ways of women. Did you really watch all those movies?”

“Yes, and a lot more. You sure you’re up for company?”

“I would appreciate the distraction. Just ignore the soft whimpers.”

“Would ice cream help?”

She sighed. “Actually, it would help a lot.”

“I’m on my way.”

CHAPTER FIVE (#u5bb222f3-68c1-54a6-a203-9a1f0ff96ef7)

RENEE SPENT THE time between the phone call and Jasper’s arrival alternating between wanting to see him and wishing she’d told him tonight wasn’t going to work for her. She just plain didn’t feel good and she wasn’t sure trying to make polite conversation was going to go well. Only the second she opened her front door and saw him standing outside her apartment, she had the strongest urge to throw herself into his arms and be held in a strong, powerful, I’m here for you hug.

What was up with that? she wondered as she stepped back to let him in. Her hormones must be more out of whack than she’d realized.

“Hi,” Jasper said, holding up a small white bag. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought three different flavors.”

“That’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”

He stepped inside and shut the door. She peeked in the bag and saw there where three containers of different flavors of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

“Cherry Garcia is my favorite,” she said, pulling out the pint. “What would you like?”

“The cookie dough one.”

She got out bowls and served them each a generous portion, then led the way to the sofa. She curled up in the corner by where she’d plugged in her heating pad. It wasn’t glamorous, but when the cramps got bad, the heat helped. Right now she was only dealing with a low ache, but that could change at any moment.

He sat at the opposite end and angled toward her. “You really up to this?” he asked. “I could just eat my ice cream and leave.”

She grinned. “I notice you’re not willing to abandon your ice cream.”

“I can if that would make you feel better.”

“Sweet, but not necessary. So you watched the movies. What did you think?”

He took his time answering, as if considering his words. He was so large, so masculine, that he seemed out of place. She’d never thought of her apartment as girly, but with him sitting on her gray sofa, with all the throw pillows, and the pale mauve walls, she had to admit, the space had a decidedly feminine air.

Funny how last time she’d been so intent on getting him into her bed, and into her, that she hadn’t noticed the absence of maleness.

“I liked nearly all the movies I watched,” he said. “Juno was great. I never thought about what it must be like for a girl in high school to have to deal with a pregnancy. It’s not easy.”

He put down his ice cream and gazed at her intently. “Steel Magnolias was unexpected. Not what happened with Shelby but how the characters impacted the story. The guys were in the background while the women carried the plot.”

She smiled. “Now you know how we feel a lot of the time.”

“I can see that. I watched Gilmore Girls.”

“The series?”

“I started with the one that covers a year in their life and then went back and watched a couple of seasons.”

He was determined to figure out his female character, she thought, impressed by the time he was willing to put into his project.

“What did you think?”

He picked up his ice cream again. “I was confused. What happened to Rory? In the original series, she was strong and driven. In the later one, she had no direction. She was a character who always overprepared so to show up at that interview with nothing didn’t make sense. That’s not who her character was. And the ending.” He shook his head. “If I did something like that, my readers would hunt me down. Actually they wouldn’t have to. My editor would have already killed me.”

He sounded passionate and engaged in the characters. “Did you like it or not?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I was unsatisfied but I can’t stop thinking about it. So there’s a lesson in that. Plus, I liked how strong the women were in the movies. It’s like in my books. The stronger the villain, the stronger the hero has to be to defeat him.”

“Or her.”

He sighed. “Yes, or her. Although statistically, there are very few serial killers who are women.”

“That’s because they don’t get caught.”

He flashed her a grin. “Touché.”

“Thank you. So you’re thinking a strong woman for Vidar?”

“I think that would work best with him. Not a cop. If she was on the force, he would have met her already. And a transfer seems too convenient. Not that it matters—I don’t like the idea of a work relationship. He wouldn’t do that.”

“What about someone he meets locally? He goes to that coffee shop by his apartment,” she said, trying to think of who else Vidar ran into regularly in the books. “She could work there, or have just moved to the neighborhood. They could accidentally grab each other’s to-go cups.”

Jasper looked surprised. “You’ve read my books?”

She laughed. “Of course I’ve read your books. You’re a local author and the only writer I’ve ever met. Why wouldn’t I read your books?”

“I didn’t know.”

He sounded both sheepish and pleased, which oddly enough made her feel a little teary, which was craziness on a stick. Hormones, she thought again. They were powerful little creatures.

He cleared his throat. “I like the idea of someone local. She works in an office, she’s a dog walker.”

“I don’t see Vidar as a real dog kind of guy. He’s too focused on what he does. I’m not sure he’d be a good pet parent.”

“He could do it. He just hasn’t had a chance.”

Her lips twitched. “You’re defending someone who doesn’t exist?”

“Yes. He’s my guy.”

“Fine. He could love dogs.” She held in a smile. “Or cats. What if he meets a crazy cat lady?”

“No. Definitely no.”

“What about just one cat? I’ve always wanted a cat. They’re so beautiful.”

“No on the cat.”

She smiled. “Okay, she owns a restaurant, she’s a plumber, she works in a bar, she’s a teacher, she’s a...” She tried to think about what kind of career would make sense for Vidar’s lady friend.

“What if she’s a wedding planner?” Jasper asked.

Renee finished her ice cream and licked the spoon. “Really? That’s both flattering and creepy at the same time.”

“It makes sense. You’re creative and resourceful. She could be, too.”

“How would they meet? Vidar goes to a wedding?”

“He could. Someone from the force. Or a friend.”

“Not family,” she said. “He doesn’t have any. I don’t know—a wedding planner is nothing like what he does. Would they even get along? And while we’re not on the subject, where did you come up with his name? Vidar. It’s unusual.”

“I found it in a baby name book. It’s based on Norse mythology. Vidar is the son of Odin and a giantess named Grid. He’s silent and known to be strong. I thought it suited him.”

“I can’t get past his mother’s name. Grid? Really?”

“It was different back then.”

“Still. ‘This is my mother, Grid’?”

“You’re not helping.”

Renee laughed. “Okay. Vidar, son of Grid. Oh, wow, I just realized that Pallas’s name comes from Greek mythology.” She paused. “Or Roman. I think Greek. We have two mythologically based names in town. What are the odds? And back to your girl. She could be a florist, an artist. Oh, make her a glass artist. You could totally hang out with Mathias and Ronan and learn the trade. It would be very method acting. Or writing, I guess.”

“You’re feeling better.”

She smiled. “I am. The ice cream cured me, at least for the moment. Thank you for bringing it.”

“Thanks for helping me with my book.”

“We didn’t accomplish anything.”

“I have a lot to think about. That’s progress.”

“If you say so.” She thought about all they’d discussed and how he’d watched all the movies she’d suggested plus more she hadn’t. He was good at his job, doing the work and then some. He was handsome, funny, godlike in bed and successful.

“So why aren’t you married?” she asked. “Why the serial monogamy?”

“You proposing?”

“Not today.”

He grinned. “Okay, you answered my question when I asked it, so fair is fair. You know I was in the army.”

She nodded.

“Before that I was just some small-town guy. I grew up in Montana. I liked the usual outdoor stuff, had a girlfriend in high school. There weren’t a lot of opportunities and I wasn’t excited about college so I joined up right after I graduated.”

His gaze shifted past her, as if he was seeing something she couldn’t.

“I got into the military police and that was good for me. I liked my work and I was serving my country. Some days were more difficult than others.” He shifted his attention back to her. “I had several tours in Afghanistan. They got harder and by the time I was ready to rejoin the civilian world, I found myself physically intact but mentally and emotionally messed up.”

“PTSD?” she asked.

“Among other things. I had nightmares, anxiety, sleeplessness. I couldn’t focus. Some days I couldn’t stop shaking. I went through all of it. Therapy, drugs, group counseling, halfway houses. Everything helped a little but nothing helped very much. After a while I figured out I was never going to be whole. Not the way I had been. The doctors I saw talked about managing my symptoms. One day we were given an assignment to write about how we were feeling. I started writing and couldn’t stop. Two years later, I’d finished a book that had nothing to do with the war and everything to do with someone else’s problems. That was the first Vidar novel.”

She thought about what Wynn had said—that he wasn’t as broken as he thought—and wondered if it was true.

“So you’re too wounded to love anyone?” she asked lightly.

“Something like that. It’s okay. I’ve got a pretty decent life.” He grinned and got to his feet. “I never thought I’d be a writer, that’s for sure.”

He moved close, bent down and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for talking to me tonight. I hope you feel better soon.”

“I will. The first twenty-four hours are the worst for me. By the morning, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad.” He touched her cheek. “I’ll show myself out. See you soon.”