I crossed the final few steps to the bench at the overlook and collapsed as gracefully as I could. I'd had a stitch in my side for the last half mile, but I was determined not to show my discomfort. Anders was an avid hiker, and I'd pretended to be a little more experienced than I really was.
I felt like I had a personal responsibility to do my part to dispel the myth that Americans are all fat and lazy. Really, Anders had enough experience with Americans to form his own opinion. He'd been a foreign exchange student his senior year of highschool, living with my husband Erik's family. They'd stayed in touch through college, and when Erik graduated, Anders helped Erik get a job with the Atlanta branch of a Swedish software company.
It was only natural that Erik and I welcome Anders into our home when he was sent to Erik's office as a consultant. It saved the company from having to pay for a hotel room. Actually, the two of them had pulled strings to get Anders assigned here for the summer just so they could hang out.
A quick glance at him beside me made me feel a little better about my own exhaustion. He was leaning back on the bench with his eyes closed, ignoring the view we'd hiked so far to see. His breathing was measured and heavy, his dark hair was damp with sweat, and his t-shirt was clinging to his chest. Perhaps he was learning that hiking in Georgia was a whole different ballgame than hiking in Sweden. Even exhausted and sweaty, he was gorgeous enough to make my stomach flip.
"Ready to start back?" I teased.
He opened one eye and moaned. "Not funny, Linds. I feel like I'm in the world's biggest sauna. How do you manage?"
I laughed. "Ah, well. I'm faking it, actually. I'm about to keel over, and my heart feels like it's going to explode."
He reached over with one arm and laid his hand on my chest. "Wow." He raised an eyebrow. "Don't have a heart attack, ok? I'm not sure I'm going to be able to make it back myself, I know I couldn't carry you." He grinned, but there was something in his eyes that made my heart pound even faster. Did he feel that, I wondered?
My tank top was fairly low cut, so there was nothing between his hand and my thudding chest but bare skin. Hopefully he would chalk it all up to over exertion and not his effect on me.
He closed his eyes again, but didn't move his hand.
I leaned forward as if to tighten my shoe laces, brushing his hand away in the process. My damp auburn hair fell down in a curtain to hide my eyes, and I spent much longer than necessary fiddling with my socks and shoes, hoping to regain my composure before meeting his eyes again.
When I finally sat up and leaned back, his arm was across the bench behind me. I shot him a quick look from the corner of my eye, and saw that he was staring off into the distance. I could have sworn there was a smirk playing around his mouth.
I pretended to admire the view, trying to process what was happening. We'd hiked five miles uphill, to the top of what could pass for a mountain in Georgia. The overlook was perfectly situated to catch a panoramic view of the valley and surrounding hills. I couldn't appreciate the trees, or the small waterfall in the distance. His arm rested across the worn wood of the bench, barely grazing my neck, and that was all I could focus on.
He'd been staying with Erik and me for a week now, and this was the first time we'd touched. I'd never even caught an interested glance from him. Now, the first time we were completely alone, I thought I was picking up signals from him. But was I? Maybe he was just comfortable with me, maybe the Swedes have different cultural mores regarding personal space.
He shifted slightly and brushed his fingertips against my upper arm, tracing lines of fire across my skin. No, this wasn't just friendly, comfortable contact. This was deliberate. Sensual.
I squirmed out from under his arm and turned to face him. "Anders." I said in as flat a tone as I could manage.
"Linds." Yes, there was definitely a smirk on his lips. Kissable, soft, full lips... I shook my head a little.
"Are you ready to head back? Erik is expecting us." There. I'd mention my husband, remind him that I was married to his best friend. Remind myself that I was married to my best friend.
"No, I need a minute. This... humidity, right? I'm not used to it. How's your heart?" He wrapped his strong fingers around my wrist, as if checking my pulse rate.
I made a half-assed attempt to pull my hand away. "My heart's fine, thanks." I wanted to tell him to stop with the not-so-innocent little touches, but a part of me really didn't want him to stop.
He slid his fingers up my arm, across my shoulder and rested them on my neck, just under my jaw. I tried not to shiver at the contact. "Yeah, your heart seems fine. So what's wrong?"
I gave him my best don't-fuck-with-me look. "Seriously?"
I was not about to play that game with him. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had leaned in so his face was just inches from mine, and it was all I could do to maintain eye contact. I'd never noticed his eyes before. Another strike against the stereotype- Swedes were supposed to have blue eyes, but his were a dark, warm brown. I had to look away.
"Am I bothering you?" He grinned and his hand dropped back to his side. "Sorry." He was still grinning, obviously unashamed.
