29
VIGGO
Lose My Mind
“I can’t believe you bought them a house, Viggo!” Scarlett exclaimed, staring incredulously at him as he pulled up in front of a cozy three-story stucco home. “What happened to renting? That was the plan!”
“I know, but I got the house below market value and it was a short sale. Seemed too good to pass up.” He shrugged. “It’s a tax write-off. No big deal.”
“Are you kidding?” Scarlett sputtered. “Of course it’s a big deal! You bought a house, Viggo. A house! Do you realize what a major purchase that is? And the guys are only gonna be here a few weeks. A month, tops.”
Viggo looked in the rearview mirror. “I don’t see them. Did they get lost?”
“No. The van needs a new fuel pump, so it can only go but so fast. And it’s hard to keep up with you when you drive like you’re on the freaking Autobahn.”
He grinned. “I love driving on the Autobahn. Have you ever—”
“I have. It totally rocks. And don’t try to change the subject.”
“I’m not.” He was. “Look, you heard what Traeger said over lunch. He said he’d been needing a change of scenery, and if he likes Denver enough, he’s gonna stick around and get a job as a bartender or a tattoo artist.”
“He was joking.”
“I don’t think so. I think he meant it. And I don’t think the others would be too opposed to relocating if you and Traeger are here. You’re a band, Scarlett. It makes sense for you guys to be in the same city. You can do some local gigs and rehearse more often, not just when it’s time to go on tour.”
Scarlett stared out the window, her teeth catching her bottom lip. He hoped he was getting through to her. Damn his chatty Realtor for spilling the beans about him buying the house.
“What if they decide not to stay?” Scarlett challenged, turning back to face him. “What if they pack up and leave after we finish the album? Then you’ll be stuck with an empty house and a mortgage.”
“I paid cash for the house, so there’s no mortgage.” Viggo tapped the steering wheel. “If the guys go back to Boston, I can just use the house as a rental property or flip it. Either way, it’s money in my pocket.” His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. “There they are.”
Not giving Scarlett a chance to argue further, he hopped out of the truck and came around to open her door.
She got out slowly, shaking her head at him. “We’ll finish this later.”
He grinned. “Not if I can help it.”
Together they stood watching as the band’s old black van chugged up the street. In true rock star fashion, it had black tinted windows and chrome rims. But they were smart enough not to have any flashy banners or stickers identifying themselves as a band, lest their expensive equipment get stolen.
They’d left Boston three days ago and driven cross-country to Denver, arriving late last night. Bleary-eyed and road-weary, they’d made a big deal over Viggo’s penthouse, gaping in amazement at the views before exhaustion kicked in. They were still knocked out in their rooms when Viggo came home from practice with an armload of pizza boxes and beer. As they all sat around eating and drinking and laughing, he could see how happy it made Scarlett to bring her two worlds together. Her glowing smile reinforced his belief that buying the house for her bandmates had been the right call.
As the van pulled up to the curb, Viggo motioned for Gage to park in the driveway. Then he dropped the house keys into Scarlett’s palm and smiled. “You can do the honors.”
Her expression softened. “You’re really something, you know that? I can never repay you—”
“No one’s asking you to.” He took her hand and led her up the front walk as her bandmates spilled out of the van and followed them to the door.
“Nice house,” Traeger said appreciatively. “Helluva lot nicer than where we’re living now.”
The others agreed.
“Wait till you see inside.” Scarlett unlocked the door and stepped into the house. “Welcome to your new home away from home.”
Viggo gestured for the guys to go ahead of him. They went inside, their eyes widening as they looked around the spacious foyer with hardwood floors leading into the living room.
“Holy shit,” they exclaimed. “This is awesome!”
Viggo and Scarlett grinned at each other.
As the guys ventured beyond the foyer, Zander said excitedly, “You didn’t tell us the place was already furnished.”
“The furniture came with the house,” Viggo said. “You can change whatever you want—”
“Hell no! This shit is nice!”
Scarlett grinned. “The basement’s huge. We have plenty of rehearsal space, and maybe part of it could be converted into a home studio.”
“That sounds good,” they enthused.
Scarlett led them to the updated kitchen, opening the refrigerator to show them the contents. “Viggo and I went shopping yesterday and stocked up on food and booze.”
“Hell yeah!”
When Traeger reached for a cold brew, she slapped his hand away and gave him a stern look. “You had three beers with lunch. I think that’s enough for now.”
He grinned. “Yes, Mother.”
Everyone laughed.
As they left the kitchen, Scarlett continued, “There are four bedrooms upstairs. We replaced all the kid furniture with adult beds and dressers. You guys will have to decide who gets the master—”
They took off running toward the staircase, shoving and jostling to be first to claim the biggest room.
Scarlett grinned after them. “I feel like such a parent right now.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and called out jokingly, “No running in the house, boys!”
“Okay, Mom!” they called back, bounding up the stairs.
She laughed, shaking her head at Viggo.
He was staring at her, his mind suddenly flooded with an image of them with their own four children. Two boys and two girls. One or more of them would probably have gray eyes and blond hair because the Sandström genes were so dominant. And the boys would probably look like him. Tall for their age, sturdy and strong. The girls would be just as beautiful as their mother, inheriting her dark doe eyes and plush lips. He could see them skipping through the house together, curly ringlets bouncing, sweet voices singing a nursery rhyme. At least one of them would hopefully be blessed with their mom’s golden pipes.
In his mind’s eye, he could see him and Scarlett smiling affectionately at their children as they followed them outside to a deck overlooking the sea. They were vacationing at their summer cottage somewhere in the Stockholm archipelago. As they stood close together watching their kids play on the lawn, Scarlett took his hand and put it over her swollen belly. She was pregnant again because he couldn’t keep his hands off her, and he loved watching her grow large with his child.
“Yo, Viggo?”
The sound of Scarlett’s voice jerked him out of the perfect little fantasy and back to the present. Back to reality.
As she waved her hand in front of his face, he blinked dumbly at her. “Uh, what?”
She gave him a quizzical smile. “Are you okay?”
“Um. Yeah. Sure.” He swallowed tightly and ran a shaky hand through his hair. His palms were damp and his heart was racing. The image had been so vivid…so real. He could practically taste the salty tang of the sea and feel the warmth of Scarlett’s rounded belly.
Shit. Fucking hell.
She was grinning at him. “Dude, you have the weirdest look on your face right now.”
“Do I?” he mumbled.
“Yeah. You do.” Her eyes glimmered. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.” To give himself something to do with his hands, he pulled out his phone and checked his notifications. A flight reminder for tomorrow’s away game in San Jose flashed on the screen. There was also an updated text from his agent, who was negotiating his new Rolex deal. The money looked good, and he was supposed to be shooting another ad soon.
He had missed calls from his mom and his brother Rikard, and his sister Freya had texted to demand that he bring Scarlett home to be properly interrogated and vetted.
That made him smile. It also deepened the ache in his chest.
Lifting his head, he watched as Scarlett went into the living room and opened the plantation shutters to reveal a good-size backyard with an L-shaped pool. It was covered with a tarp for the winter.
“They haven’t even seen the pool yet.” Grinning, Scarlett cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed, “Hey, boys! Come check out the—”
“Holy crap!” Traeger shouted from upstairs. “There’s a pool!”
“No way!” the others exclaimed.
They came stampeding down the stairs like a herd. “Pool party, baby!”
“Hell yeah!”
“Um, it’s winter,” Scarlett pointed out.
That didn’t dampen their excitement. Hooting and high-fiving, they headed out the back door to investigate their new pool and explore the backyard.
Viggo grinned as he joined Scarlett at the window. “They’re staying in Denver.”
“Think so?”
“Yep. The pool sealed the deal.”
She laughed. “You might be right.”
They stood watching her bandmates for a few moments. Then Scarlett turned and looped her arms around Viggo’s neck, smiling into his eyes. “You’re my hero, you know that?”
He grinned, gathering her close. “Are you gonna write a song about me?”
Smiling mysteriously, she leaned up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “Maybe I already have….”
* **
Viggo played like shit against San Jose. There was no sugarcoating it. He sucked balls.
As expected, the media gave him hell for it. Not only did he have a bad game, it was also the fourth game in a row where he hadn’t scored a goal—a long drought by his standards. He had to answer a bunch of annoying questions about his “scoring slump,” and fans were nervously wondering when they should start panicking.
Never one to miss an opportunity to talk trash, Jöran tweeted Viggo after the San Jose debacle: Offensive juggernaut? I think not. #overrated
Because Viggo was already in a shitty mood, the tweet got under his skin. He wanted to clap back. He wanted to lay a savage verbal smackdown on his old foe, and it probably would have felt fucking fantastic. But he knew he’d be playing right into Jöran’s hands, giving him the attention he pathetically craved. So even though it took all his self-control not to respond, that was exactly what he did. He knew his continued silence would eat away at Jöran, and that gave him some satisfaction.
Over drinks at a local bar after the game, Reid scoffed at the notion that Viggo was in a scoring slump. “Every damn player goes through periods where things just aren’t going our way. We play eighty-two games a year. It’s a long fucking season. Just because you haven’t lit the lamp the past four games doesn’t mean the damn sky is falling. I mean, you might not be scoring goals right now, but you’re still making assists and racking up points. Anyone who says you’re in a scoring slump has no fucking clue what they’re talking about.”
“I know,” Viggo grumbled.
“Yeah? So why do you look worried?”
“I’m not worried,” he lied.
Reid studied his face in the dim bar light. “Everything okay with Scarlett?”
Viggo smiled for the first time that day. “I’ve got no complaints.”
“I bet you don’t, especially now that she’s shacking up with you.” Reid grinned. “Now you know why I’m always in such a damn hurry to get back home after away games. There’s nothing like coming home to a sweet, beautiful woman who’s been missing your company.”
“No kidding.” Viggo chuckled, taking a swig of beer. He couldn’t wait to return home to Scarlett tomorrow, couldn’t wait to get her alone and naked.
A burst of feminine laughter drew his attention to a nearby table where some hot blonde in a miniskirt was grinding on Logan’s lap. His face was buried in her tits, his beefy paws gripping her ass as she giggled and cooed. Logan had played only marginally better than Viggo tonight, so he planned to fuck his cares away. Which was pretty much par for the course with him.
“Anyway,” Reid continued, slapping Viggo on the back. “Fuck the media. You’ve been having a monster season, so any drop off in performance is gonna make headlines. But don’t panic, bro, and don’t change what you’re doing. Just stay focused and things will turn around.”
Coach hadn’t been as comforting as Reid. After the game he’d pulled Viggo aside, gripped him by his shoulder and growled warningly, “Get your shit together, Sandström. This season is too fucking important for you to be fading under pressure. We’re all counting on you, so get that monkey off your back before it becomes an eight-hundred-pound gorilla.”
Viggo had clenched his jaw and mumbled, “Got it, Coach.”
Later that night, he was awakened by a text message from his grandfather: Never forget who you are and what you are made of.
He stared at the words for a long time, his gut churning as memories swirled like a tornado.
He then deleted the text, threw on some sweats, left the hotel and went running. He ran so fast his eyes burned and his chest ached. He ran until his blood pounded so violently he could taste it in his mouth. He ran until his sides were heaving so hard that he doubled over and puked up his guts on the pavement.
He was still in a dark mood hours later when the team plane touched down in Denver. Once the bus dropped them off at the arena, he jumped into his truck and headed straight to the studio where Scarlett and her bandmates were working on their next album. He was tired and grouchy, so he probably should have gone home first and taken a nap. But he couldn’t wait another second to see his baby. One look at her would calm his spirit and chase the dark clouds from his mind.
When he arrived at the studio, he was escorted to the control room where Scarlett and her bandmates were recording. They were in an enclosed glass booth wearing headphones as they grooved their way through a pulsating power ballad.
Seth, the producer, sat at an elaborate mixing console that featured a complex network of buttons and controls. Sporting hipster glasses with black plastic frames, he glanced over his shoulder at Viggo and grinned broadly. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
“Hey, Seth,” Viggo greeted him, exchanging warm handshakes. “Good to see you, man.”
“Same, bro.” Seth gestured to the empty chair beside him.
Viggo sat down, staring at Scarlett and her bandmates inside the glass booth. They saw him and flashed quick smiles, which he returned before asking Seth, “So how’s it going?”
“Pretty good. They’re awesome. All of them.” Seth nodded toward Scarlett. “She’s fucking phenomenal.”
“She is.” A soft smile touched Viggo’s lips. “Absolutely.”
Scarlett stood at the mic singing about an intoxicating lover who stole her heart and made off like a bandit. The song was called “The Heist.” It was sexy and raw, powerfully showcasing her vocals and Gage’s lead guitar, with haunting little notes from Zander’s keyboard.
Seth shook his head wonderingly. “How are they not signed to a major label?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Viggo murmured, meeting Scarlett’s dark gaze.
She was powering through the song in a throaty growl that he felt down to his toes. As he listened to the yearning lyrics, he couldn’t help wondering if she’d written the song about him.
“Would you run if you knew how long I’ve waited? If you knew how long I’ve dreamed? Would you run if you knew you’ve always belonged to me?”
A shiver zipped down Viggo’s spine, heating his blood. As he stood there watching Scarlett through the glass and soaking up her voice, he realized he could no longer deny what his heart had been telling him.
He was in love with her. Head over fucking heels. He loved her and he needed her like nothing he’d ever needed in his life. The intensity of his feelings rocked him down to his soul, leaving him stunned and breathless.
As the song ended with a crash of electric guitar chords, Seth pressed the talkback button and spoke into the mic, “Great work, guys. Wanna break for ten?”
The band members grinned and gave the thumbs-up.
Seth sat back, turning to Viggo with a grin. “I know some record label execs who might be interested in them. I’m gonna put some feelers out there and see what happens.”
“Awesome, man.” Viggo clapped him warmly on the back. “I’m forever in your debt.”
Seth’s grin widened. “Just pay me a finder’s fee and we’ll call it even.”
Viggo laughed, rising from the chair. “You got a deal.”
Scarlett came out of the booth and leaped into his arms. He laughed as he caught her and swung her around. Her amazing scent filled his head, intoxicating his senses as her lush curves melted into him. He closed his eyes for one blissful moment, squeezing her in his arms before setting her back down on her feet.
She grinned up at him, her beautiful eyes shining. “Dude, it’s crazy how much I miss you when you’re gone.”
His heart swelled. “Same.”
Her curly black hair was scraped into a bun on top of her head, silver hoops dancing in her ears. She was wearing ripped jeans and a loose off-the-shoulder shirt with sleeves that flared out from the elbows. God, she was a sight for sore eyes.
As her bandmates came out of the booth to chat with Seth, she grabbed Viggo’s hand and led him out into the hallway.
“Thank you sooo much for arranging this,” she gushed excitedly. “The studio is awesome, and Seth has been great to work with!”
Viggo grinned. “He’s pretty impressed with you, too. And no wonder. You guys sounded incredible. I love what I’ve heard so far.”
“Thank you!” She beamed with appreciation. “The fellas are amazing—”
“They are, and so are you.” He toyed with a stray curl on her forehead, giving her a sly smile. “Any chance that ‘The Heist’ was inspired by someone you know?”
Her smile was enigmatic. “Maybe.”
He grinned. “I think it was.”
She poked him in the chest and sang saucily, “You’re so vain. You probably think this song is about you….”
He laughed. “Ooh, burn.”
She grinned, looping one arm around his neck. “Seriously, though. Before we met, I had been struggling with an epic case of writer’s block for weeks. I was totally freaking out. And then I met you and…well, the words and melodies just started pouring out of me. I felt so inspired.” Her eyes sparkled up at him. “I guess you could say you’re my muse.”
Viggo felt his heart catch in his chest. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me, too.” She grinned. “But I don’t wanna go overboard with the mushy-feely stuff. The guys have already been teasing me about going soft on them.”
Viggo laughed. “Can’t have that.”
“No. We can’t.” She sobered, her eyes softening and sweeping over his face. “I’m really sorry about the game. Are you okay?”
His chest tightened, but he nodded.
She didn’t look convinced. “Maybe—”
“Let’s talk about it later.” He smiled to soften his words. “We can rehash the lowlights when I get back from morning skate tomorrow. Right now I just need a break from hockey.”
Holy crap. Did those words really just come out of my mouth? A break from hockey???
Scarlett searched his eyes a moment longer, then nodded and tenderly palmed his face. “You look a little tired. You should go home and get some rest.”
“Nah, I’m staying. I wanna hear some more songs.” Her loose top hung off one shoulder, luring him to lean down and kiss her silky skin. Feeling her shiver against his lips, he closed his eyes and breathed her in like a drug.
She gave a little sigh of pleasure. “The fellas invited us over for dinner tonight to celebrate our first day of recording.”
“Yeah?” Viggo began kissing his way up her neck. “I was hoping to have you all to myself tonight.”
“That’s what I figured.” He could hear a smile in her voice.
“I don’t mean to be selfish, but we’re apart so often—”
“I know. I feel the same way. I need you so much.”
His dick jumped at her words. “I don’t have a game on Friday, so let’s throw the fellas a big party,” he murmured, nuzzling beneath her earlobe. “It can be at our place or—”
“Our place?” Her voice was warm with awed pleasure.
“Yes. Our place.” He smiled, kissing along her jaw. “We’ll invite our friends and some of my teammates. Logan can bring some girls—”
“What?” Scarlett jerked back to glare at him. “No bunnies.”
He laughed. “They’re not for me. They’re for your bandmates.”
“I don’t care.”
“C’mon. It’d make them happy. Especially Traeger.”
Her lips twitched. “True.”
“Plus you don’t want them to feel left out while mostly everyone else is coupled up. Reid and Nadia, Nelson and Bianca, Luke and Ana, Lennox and Cooper—”
Her expression grew tender. He’d hit her soft spot.
He bent his head and kissed her before she had time to close her eyes. His eyes stayed open as well as he watched her watching him, savoring the powerful connection they shared.
She was too good to be true. She had to be.
She would probably break his fucking heart, mangle it all to shreds.
But it didn’t matter. He was too far gone to turn back. She had him out there on the ledge and he was ready. Ready to step over the edge and fall into forever with her.