Eventually he emerged and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. The packers and drivers were still in the packing room, so he had to be discreet. They didn’t mind being seen together around town, but they both felt it was best to keep a low profile at work. They hardly even spoke to each other when anyone else was nearby.
“First time I’ve seen you today,” Tuula said with a smile.
“I had a lot of work to catch up on.” His smile was strained. “By the way, I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s just an idea, but I’d like to see what comes of it.”
He went over to the second batch of dough, which had been proofing since the day before. “This is made with your sourdough.” After kneading it a bit, he shaped the flat loaves and slid the tray into the oven. “I’m trying to persuade my father to sell it.”
She nodded encouragingly. “He usually listens to you.”
Her face was pink with the warmth of the bakery, and there were tiny beads of sweat along her hairline. He wanted to brush them away. He wanted to take her down to the sea for a swim. Unless she had to hurry home to the children, of course.
“We’re ... We’re not exactly getting along at the moment.” Nils peered in through the glass door of the oven.
Tuula looked at him searchingly. “Why? Has something happened?” She placed a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s nothing, just a disagreement.”
“You’re not quarreling about me, are you?”
How could she know that? But she wasn’t dumb. She knew that people in the village were talking. He still didn’t want to worry her.
“No, no, it’s just a couple of things to do with the business. Don’t worry about it. At least I got him to try the bread, and he liked it. It would be great if we could add it to our offering.”
The loaves were ready in no time, and he removed the tray. “I want to call it Tuula’s Tasty Bread.”
She looked at him, and in a second she was in his arms, kissing him.
As usual he felt as though he were floating. He was so happy with her, so free. Whatever happened with the business, it was worth it. This was what love was supposed to feel like—and now that he had experienced it, he knew he couldn’t live without it.
26
Henrik was taking one of his evening strolls around Västervik. It had become something of a habit after dinner with the production team. The air was fresh, and the snow that had fallen earlier had melted away. People complained about the winters in southern Sweden, but he loved them. There was a melancholy beauty to the barren landscape, and the fact that no one expected snow in the south meant that they weren’t disappointed when “the real winter” didn’t make an appearance. Not being disappointed could be nice sometimes. As he walked through the streets, glistening with rain, he saw a couple out walking their dog, then a group of friends leaving a restaurant. There were people around, but no rushing crowds or traffic.
He found himself outside Nymans and stopped; the lights were on. Of course—Nora was putting up the Christmas decorations tonight. Given what she’d said earlier, he was expecting to see Santa’s elves working away inside. Instead he saw Nora sitting alone at a table with a small mug in her hand. She looked lost in thought, and then she rubbed her cheek with one hand as if she was ... crying? There were several boxes on the floor next to the coffee machines. Advent candle bridges had been placed in the windows, but they weren’t lit. She seemed to have a lot left to do. Judging by the number of boxes and her Christmas decorating aspirations, she was probably in for a long night.
He hadn’t managed to shake off the feeling after the previous day’s kiss. He hadn’t planned it. Although he had intended to flirt with herfor the sake of the show, it had simply happened. She was standing so close to him, he loved the smell of her, and ... It had shut her up as well, of course. The sudden and immediate attraction he had felt baffled him. Then there was the fact that the kiss had been fantastic—which didn’t make anything any clearer.
His plan had been to continue to flirt lightly with her during filming today, but her objections to the business with the dough had made it impossible. In a way he understood; one minute they were provoking her into outbursts of rage, and then he kissed her, only to ridicule her skill as a baker the very next day.
Nora stood up, put down her mug, and went over to the boxes. Henrik moved closer to the door, and heard the muted sound of holiday music.
The decorations had to get done if they were going to be able to film tomorrow. He had to help her.
He tapped gently on the glass and she looked up, a strand of tinsel in her hand. She peered into the darkness, then raised her eyebrows, dropped the tinsel, and came over to unlock the door.
“Hi—what are you doing here?”
“Hi—would you like some help?”
At first she looked wary and defensive, as she so often did, but then she relaxed and smiled. She had a lovely smile, the kind that lit up her whole face, and he felt a pleasant warmth spread through his body.
“Okay, why not?” she replied, not moving.
“Er ... Can I come in?”
“Sorry.” She shook her head and there it was again, that lovely smile. She held open the door, and as he came in his hand brushed against hers. She quickly pulled away, but that small touch had sent a tingle up his arm and through his body like an electric shock. He closed the door and followed her inside.
“Would you like some of this year’s special mulled wine?” She nodded toward a bottle on one of the wooden tables, next to a plate of gingerbread cookies and two cheeses. “I’ve got red wine, too, and ordinarymulled wine, but that’s up in the apartment. My friends were supposed to be here, but something came up for a couple of them, and the others couldn’t make it on such short notice.”
