Page 65 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
Hot and rich and talented.
This can’t work out. I’m sure it’s just a bit of fun for him. A bit of distraction. I’m fine with that.
I just mustn’t get attached.
Inside my head, I laugh hollowly. Who am I kidding? I’m already attached. So then what? My heart is barely functioning. It can’t take a battering.
* * *
As soon aswe soar through the clouds on our way down to Stockholm, I see how different Sweden is from LA. It’s so green and flat and waters crisscross the earth like veins through a hand.
It looks gentler, less aggressive than the city we’ve left. Like we’ve fled the arms of a loud outgoing brother and swapped them for our quiet, friendly cousin.
“It’s not how I imagined,” I tell him, as he leans over me to peer through my window.
“How were you expecting it to look, Cupcake?”
“I don’t know. More solid. It looks like someone picked up your country and smashed it on the table, leaving it all broken up into bits.”
“Yeah, I never thought of that before. It does. We have the most islands of any country in the world.”
“Get out of here, how about the Philippines or Indonesia?”
“Nope, Sweden,” he says proudly, puffing out his chest.
I was concerned after the blue mood I found him in yesterday, that landing home would send him all grumpy again. Instead, he seems almost excited.
“Are you glad to be home?”
He sweeps his hand through his hair and then over his face, stroking his beard and making me want to do the same. “I haven’t decided yet. Depends how it goes.”
As we’re ushered off the plane ahead of everyone else and whisked through security, he whispers in my ear, “Prepare to feel small in this country, Cupcake.”
“That’s nothing new. I always feel small.”
He smiles at me knowingly and soon I discover why. This is the land of fucking giants. Hunter, a man who usually towers above everyone in the room, looks almost normal here. Almost; he’s still taller than everyone we meet. Just not as tall.
“I’m telling my cousins about this country. They are going to want to move here.”
“Why?”
“They have a thing for tall men.”
“Are they as height-impaired as you?”
I pinch his bicep.
“My sister insisted on picking us up,” he tells me as Mick guides us out to what must be a private entrance to the airport. “She’s usually late.” He checks his watch, scanning the marked spaces.
And then out of nowhere a tall woman with Hunter’s piercing blue eyes jumps out at us and flings herself at my fake-boyfriend. “Hjalmar,” she cries, squeezing him so tight I’m surprised he can breathe.
He hugs her back and then peels her from him. Her gaze swings to me and she flashes me a smile full of perfect teeth.
“And you must be Isabella?”
“I am.” I yelp as I’m also wrapped in a huge hug. “Nice to meet you.”
“Isabella, this is Klara,” Hunter explains once he’s pulled her away from me.
