Page 14 of Meet Me Under the Northern Lights

Everyone came off the boat on such an absolute high from having seen the Northern Lights that they needed to rapidly be reminded that the ramp was slippery, as was the ground.

And in the few hours they had been out at sea, Reykjavik had got even colder.

Chloe shivered as she left the harbourside behind and began the walk back to her apartment.

It had been nice pacing it out down here, looking at the Christmas lights, following the route on Google Maps, but now it was a lot colder she wasn’t relishing the fifteen minutes whatsoever.

And it really was slippery, her fake Uggs could confirm.

She took a breath and instantly regretted it as it felt like shards of actual ice were suddenly in her throat. Focus on your footsteps. Avoid parts of the path that look shiny.

A loud car horn almost had her falling from the pavement into the road. She clutched her coat, teeth chattering as the vehicle stopped alongside her and every kidnapping scenario she’d ever read about ran through her mind.

‘Come, get in my car.’

Wow, this one wasn’t messing around with any distraction techniques of sweets or cute puppies.

‘ Krúttio mitt !’

At that phrase she realised she also recognised the voice. Gunnar. She turned to look at the vehicle – not a car but some kind of four-by-four – and he had the window down, and was calling to her.

‘You are walking back to the apartment?’ he asked.

‘Y-y-y-es.’ God, she couldn’t even say one word without her teeth chattering.

‘Get in the car. I will take you.’

‘I’m f-f-fine, honestly. It’s not that far.’

‘I know exactly how far it is. Get in.’

At that second a biting wind that seemed to swirl around and up got right under Chloe’s padded coat. It made the decision for her. She pulled the door handle and clambered up into the truck.

‘I am sorry for the mess,’ Gunnar said, putting the window up.

Chloe looked to the floor of where she had put her feet. Were those ice skates? Her teeth were juddering so much now she couldn’t form words. As if sensing her cold, the blowers inside the car were raised in speed, and hot air soon began to filter into the space as Gunnar pulled the truck away.

‘You… do… ice skating?’ she said, feeling coming back in her lips a bit.

‘A little,’ he said. ‘Sometimes. But, I am not training for the Olympics.’

She smiled. ‘OK. The last time I did ice skating I pretended I hurt my foot so I could leave the rink and go and eat bratwurst.’

He frowned. ‘Why pretend? Why did you not just leave the rink and get the sausages?’

That was a very good question. The answer was because Michael had bought the apparently ‘very expensive’ tickets and created this ‘double-date’ scenario with his boss and his wife even though Chloe could barely stand up in the boots let alone waltz around the rink like Jayne Torvill.

Saying no hadn’t been an option she thought she was allowed to consider.

And that felt pathetic. And she was going to share none of those memories with Gunnar.

‘I definitely should have done that,’ she answered. ‘I had to carry on the pretence for a week, limping and taking twice as long over the stairs.’

‘You did not like it that much? To skate?’

‘It wasn’t that I didn’t like it,’ she said. ‘Just that I wasn’t very good at it. I expect, living here, you are very good at it.’

‘In Iceland a pair of ice skates is made for every baby that is born, their name imprinted on the leather.’

‘Really?’ she asked, looking at him.

He laughed then, loud and hard. Sexy.

‘No, I joke with you. But there are plenty of lakes to skate on and a stadium, and ice hockey is very popular now.’

‘Popular enough that you have skates ready to go in your car.’

‘Well, they are not mine.’ He paused. ‘They… belong to someone else. I am… looking after them.’

He sounded awkward. Almost like he was keeping some kind of secret. Without realising it, her eyes began a reconnaissance of the rest of the cab of the truck. A half-empty bag of sweets. A travel mug. Some kind of design in metalwork hanging from the rear-view mirror…

‘Did you enjoy the boat trip?’ he asked.

‘Yes. It was very good. But the Northern Lights stole the show.’

He nodded as he drove. ‘It was a great display tonight.’

‘Lots of five-star reviews for you.’

‘I can only hope.’

‘Well, I think the stain on my coat is gone so no loss of rating from me.’

‘Thank you.’

He pulled the vehicle to a stop and Chloe saw they were outside the door to her apartment already. She had left a lamp on and it was glowing through the window reminding her that warm and cosy was only a few steps away.

‘Thank you, Gunnar. For the ride back.’

‘It is no problem. It is on my way home.’

‘You live in the city?’

‘Just outside. Where there are more ice skating opportunities and less hotels.’

She didn’t know what else to say. Why didn’t she know what else to say? Why was her mouth dry and her stomach rustling like there was a hamster living inside it?

‘So, I do not know if a visit to the south of the island was something you had thought about for your event, but, if you think it would be, you can call me, let me know.’ Gunnar cleared his throat. ‘I drive the coach.’

‘Oh, OK, that sounds interesting.’

‘We go to the black sand beach and the village of Vik and… well, the itinerary is on the website.’

‘OK. Thank you. I will look at that.’

‘OK.’

‘Good.’

And now they were just looking at each other, his clear, blue eyes matching hers and Chloe felt this sensation she couldn’t remember feeling for such a long time.

Sexual tension. It was chemistry. The seconds were drawing out, longer and longer until she grabbed at the door handle and propelled herself out of the door.

‘Thanks again! Goodnight!’

She didn’t wait to hear any reply. Instead, she pushed the door closed and headed to the apartment.