Three Swedish Mountain Men: A Reverse Harem Romance

Riven takes me to a small, traditional-looking pub with a wooden sign swinging outside the door. Inside, it’s warm and full of gold light. The walls are covered with reindeer antlers and flickering gas lamps. A red-hot fire crackles in a big stone fireplace.

A beaming middle-aged woman with pink cheeks scuttles up to us and leads us to a table near the back of the room. There are a few other groups scattered around; mostly men laughing too loudly over their beers, but a couple of families, too.

I jump when I feel hands on my shoulders. Riven gently slips my coat off for me, hanging it on a hook hammered into the wall.

“Thank you.”

He inclines his head, pulling out my chair. “How do you feel about eating reindeer? As far as meat goes, it’s about as ethical as you can get. The natives use all parts of the animal. They’re a huge part of Sami culture.” He smiles up at the woman. “It’s Charlotte’s specialty.”

I shrug. “I’ll try anything once.”

He says something to Charlotte, who grins and runs back off to the kitchen to start the order. Riven pours us both glasses of water from a tap on the bar, then settles back into his seat just as the food arrives. He’s ordered two big bowls of steaming stew, full of potatoes and meat and carrots. I suddenly realise how hungry I am. I pick up my spoon and dig in. The stew is thick and rich and savoury.

“This is delicious!”

“I’m glad you like it.” He puts a piece of bread on the edge of my plate. “Eat.”

“Thank you.”

I’m a bit nervous. I’ve not spent any one-on-one time with Riven. Ever since the first day, he’s been polite; but he’s made it clear that he doesn’t actually want me here. He doesn’t say much as we eat, mostly focussing on his phone. I take the opportunity to study him, watching the firelight play over his sharp cheekbones and dark brown skin. He really is unnaturally good-looking. Under his coat, he’s wearing an expensive-looking black sweater that fits snugly to his body, straining a little on his broad shoulders and biceps. His thick-framed glasses reflect the light of his phone screen as he bows his head. The whole package is one-hundred-percent sexy doctor.

A few tables over, a group of drunk men suddenly erupt into song, their voices booming through the room. People from other tables join in, laughing and raising their cups. Riven smiles faintly, but doesn’t look up from his phone.

“What are they singing?” I ask. Everybody seems to know it. Even the little girl the next table over is happily singing along.

“Ja, må han lever. It’s like Happy Birthday.”

“Oh!” I clap with everyone when they finish. “It sounds more like a drinking song.”

“It was one, originally, I think.” He frowns, scrolling through his screen. There’s a line between his dark eyebrows. I have to fight the sudden urge to reach over and stroke it until it goes away.

“Riven, is something wrong?”

He glances up. “Hm? Ah. No.” He puts his phone in his pocket. “Sorry, I’m being rude.”

“Not at all! I can occupy myself. I just thought…  you looked kind of upset.” I cock my head, studying his face. “Are you okay?”

His lips part. He pauses for a moment, like he’s trying to work out whether or not to tell me. “My parents keep messaging me,” he says eventually. “My mother is trying to get me to come home for the summer.” His face twists. “She’s now resorted to offering me money.”

I cut a dumpling in half. “Wow. She must really want you back. Does she live near here?”

He shakes his head. “America. My parents emigrated there when I was a teenager. Mom thinks that if she can just get me to visit, I’ll be so amazed by the pool and her yacht and her mansion that I’ll never want to leave. She’s convinced that there must be something wrong with me, wanting to live up here in the cold, away from all the malls.”

“You don’t really seem like the mall type.”

His lip twists. “No.”

I take another spoonful of stew. “So you lived in America?”

“For two or three years, while I was in high school. I came back here when I graduated to study medicine.”

“It must be hard, being so far away from your family.”

“Not at all. My dad is….” he smiles grimly. “Well. Maybe you know him. Hans Nilsson.”

The name does sound familiar. I think about it. “Wasn’t he in the news a few years ago? Something about a rapper?”

Riven nods stiffly. “He’s a lawyer.”

It all falls into place. “He’s the lawyer who got that rapper off the murder charge!”

Riven looks down at his bowl.

I remember that case. It was an ugly story. A really famous rapper stabbed his girlfriend to death when she walked in on him with another woman. The crazy thing is, the guy literally confessed to the murder; but somehow, his lawyer still got him acquitted. It was in all the papers.

“How did he do it?”

Riven shrugs. “He has a reputation for winning impossible cases. Whenever a really, really rich person fucks up, he’s the first person they call.”

“Even if they did it?”

He huffs a bitter laugh. “Especially if they did it. He specialises in getting innocent bystanders put in jail.”

I lean back in my chair. “Shit.”

“So you can imagine, I try to avoid family barbecues. Every so often, though—” he grimaces when his phone buzzes again. “Well. My parents have donated a fair amount of money to the local hospitals. I can’t stop talking to them altogether.”

I take a sip of my water, my head reeling. “Is that why you came up here?”

He shrugs. “When I was in America, I was surrounded by very rich people, and nothing felt real. Out here—” he jerks his head at the door. “People have less, and everything is a lot simpler. People take care of each other. They know human beings are more important than bank accounts.”

“Wow.” I look down at my bowl. I’d wondered why Riven decided to work so far up North. Now it all makes sense.

Charlotte bustles up, holding a candle in a carved candlestick. She plops it down between us and lights it, saying something in Swedish to Riv. He shakes his head, but she just chuckles, nudges him, and wanders off again.

“What did she say?”

He sighs. “That she’s never seen me with a girl in here before. And if we’re on a date, we should have romantic lighting.”

I snort into my stew. “Well. I’m honoured to be the first girl you bring here.”

We eat quietly for a bit. Now that I think about it, the situation is kind of date-like. Especially with the yellow candlelight flickering over our faces and hands. I don’t remember the last time a man took me out to eat, one on one. Sam was never big on dates.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Riven suddenly reaches across and takes my hand. My breath dissolves in my lungs. I watch with wide eyes as he brings my fingers to his face, examining them with a frown.

“You should put your gloves back on. You’re losing circulation.” He touches the pad of his thumb to my little fingernail. “They’re going blue.”

I sigh, frustrated. “How come you can handle the cold so well, and I’m so bloody fragile?”

“You’re not fragile. Just small. You need some more weight on you.”

“I lost a lot of weight recently,” I admit.

“By accident?”

I nod.

“Were you ill?” He brings my fingers to his mouth, blowing on them. The jolt of heat in my belly surprises me. I press my thighs together under the table.

“No. It’s just been a rough few months. That’s why I came up here. To get away.”

“Bad breakup?” He cups his hands around mine, warming them up. I shift in my chair. It feels ridiculously intimate.

“You could say that.”

“What happened?”

“Did you notice how I stopped asking you personal questions when you started looking uncomfortable?”

His eyes twinkle in the candlelight. “I think I deserve some information about the strange woman I’ve brought into my home.”

“I’m a five foot girl who apparently can’t eat a bowl of soup without my fingers dropping off. I think you three big strong mountain men have the advantage in this situation.”

He smiles properly, then, and I sit back, a bit stunned. His smile is beautiful. Big and white and shining. My heart literally thumps in my chest. I can’t help smiling back.

His phone rings again, the shrill beep ruining the moment. Riven sighs, sitting back and pulling it out of his pocket. He glares at the screen.

“Maybe you should answer it,” I tell him. “If your parents are trying this hard to contact you, it might be important. Maybe something’s happened.”

He nods, standing slowly and heading outside. I finish off the rest of my bowl, sopping up the broth with the last slice of bread. I’ve only just licked the last bit of butter off my fingers when Charlotte reappears.

“How did you like the food?” She beams, stacking up our bowls.

“It was delicious, thank you!” I fumble for my wallet. “Um, do you take card? I don’t have any Swedish cash on me.”

She chuckles. “Yes, we take card. We are not in the dark ages. But you do not have to pay. Dr Nilsson always eats free.” She tuts at Riven’s empty chair. “Where did the man go?”

“He just went to take a phone call.”

She sighs. “You must be patient with him. He does not have much practice with the women.”

“I can tell.”

She throws back her head and laughs heartily, then squeezes my cheek. “You are very pretty.”

“Oh.” I flush. “Thank you.”

“It is good for him,” she says. “To find a girl. He works so hard. He looks after so many of us in the village.” She conjures a cloth out of nowhere and starts wiping down the table. “When my boy was sick last year, it was storming. We couldn’t take him to the hospital. Dr Nilsson slept on our sofa to look after him all through the night. He is a very good man.”

My heart warms. “I think so, too.”

She reaches across and squeezes my hand. “Please tell him he must come back again soon. And I expect him to bring you with him.”

When I step outside, I find Riven standing near the entrance to the restaurant, leaning against a streetlight. It’s gotten so much darker since we were inside; the sky is now a deep blue, quickly heading for black. He’s still on the phone, speaking harshly. I can tell by the set of his shoulders that he’s not happy.

“There’s no amount. I told you, no. It’s not happening,” he snaps, ending the call and dropping the phone into his pocket. I watch him take a deep breath, closing his eyes.

I come up behind him, crunching through the snow. “Riven?” His eyes flicker open again. “Hey. Are you okay?”

A muscle tics in his jaw. He nods, but I can tell he’s lying. Behind his usual calm mask, he looks really, really upset.

My heart hurts. Without even thinking, I step forward and pull him into a hug. The top of my head only reaches the middle of his chest. He’s still for a few seconds, frozen—then he wraps strong arms around me, pulling me even closer, locking his hands behind my back. For someone who seems so reserved, he’s an excellent hugger.

We stay like that for a while. Snow flutters down over us, and I hear laughter and chatter as people pass; but we just stand in the middle of the pavement, holding each other. I rub his back slowly through his coat, feeling the tension trembling in his body. His clean, warm-linen smell washes over me again, and I bury my face into him.

Eventually he pulls away, his chest expanding with a big breath. His usually calm eyes look unnaturally dark in the dying daylight. He licks his lips.

“You look like you needed that,” I smile. “I—”

I break off when he puts a gloved hand on my cheek. His thumb strokes over my cheekbone, wiping off snowflakes. He doesn’t say anything. He’s breathing harder than usual, every muscle in his body tense.

“Riven?” I whisper. “Are you o—”

He bends and presses his lips to mine.

The world goes mute. It sounds like an exaggeration, but I mean it; as soon as Riven kisses me, it’s like someone has shoved a pair of sound-cancelling headphones over my ears. All I can hear is my own shaky breath, and the soft bristle of Riven’s stubble stroking over my cheek. His kiss is soft at first, a warm, closed-mouth press that sends heat jolting through my veins. Without even thinking, I twist both hands in the lapels of his coat and surge up, kissing him back, hard. He groans, the sound rumbling through his chest, and tangles a hand in my hair to pull me even closer. His fingers massage the back of my neck as the kiss deepens, becoming long and sliding. It would be completely perfect, but soon my calves start to shake. At least when I kissed Eli for the first time, we were lying down. Riven is the tallest of all the men. Eventually, I can’t take it anymore and start to pull away, but he just wraps his arms and picks me up around the waist, easily lifting me up onto a step, not breaking contact with my mouth. We kiss harder, and harder, until I’m panting into his mouth, rubbing against his front, practically seeing stars. I’ve never had a kiss quite like this, before. It feels like the kind of kiss you see at the end of a movie, when the hero’s chased the heroine down to the airport and arrived in the departures lounge just before she gets on her flight. I wrap my hands around his neck, sucking on his bottom lip.

“Daisy,” he mutters, and I shudder, pushing up even closer. Closer. I want to be closer.

“There you two are!” A bright voice suddenly calls from across the square.

We pull apart, gasping for air. For a moment, I can’t look away from Riven’s dark eyes. He’s looking at me with an expression I can’t begin to understand on his face. A mixture of softness and confusion.

“Guys!” The voice comes again, and I snap out of it, my eyes flicking over his shoulder as Eli and Cole come crunching through the snow towards us.

Shit. Did they see us kissing? From the angle they’re coming from, it’s possible that all they saw was Riven’s back. Eli doesn’t look like he noticed anything, swaggering up with his usual dimpled smile. He’s carrying a cardboard box, looking very pleased with himself.

Guilt blooms in my stomach. I’m not guilty that I kissed both of them; I’m not in a relationship. I can kiss who I want. But it feels a bit unfair, since they’re so close. This could make living arrangements very awkward.

Especially since Riven doesn’t seem to want to let me go. His grip on my waist just gets tighter, as if he wants to pull me away from the other two.

“Riv,” I mutter. “Get off.”

Slowly, he straightens, reluctantly dropping his hands. “Did you get everything?” He asks. Cole nods.

Eli lifts his box. “I went to Systemet.”

“He bought enough booze to last us until next year,” Cole adds drily.

“Yep.” Eli shakes the box gently, and I hear the glass clink of bottles. “We’re partying tonight!”

Cole takes the box off him, presumably before he breaks something. “Let’s get going. I’m not driving on half-cleared roads in the dark.” Without waiting for us, he goes stamping off down the street.

Riven reaches over and adjusts my scarf, tucking it carefully back under my coat. I shiver as his leather gloves touch my throat. “Come on,” he says quietly, putting a hand on the small of my back. Eli joins us, flanking me on the other side.

“Have fun without me?” He asks brightly.

“I… um…” I flounder. I’m packed between two hot, muscled men, both of whom I’ve kissed today, and that fact is kind of melting my brain. “Yeah. Riven and I ate reindeer.”

“Really? Well, tonight, I am introducing you to another Swedish classic. I bought snaps.”

“Is that like schnapps?”

He scoffs. “No, it’s nothing like that sugar-peppermint-coconut-peach crap. Snaps is much better.”

“And much stronger,” Riven adds drily.

“Yep. Brace yourself, Tink. Tonight, we’re going to go hard.”

We make it to the car, and I help the boys pack up the boot. Just before I climb into the backseat, my neck prickles. I can feel someone watching me. I turn and see the old man from before, standing right in the middle of the road, just staring at me.

My heart freezes in my chest. Did he follow me?

It wouldn’t surprise me. In the week before I left England, I had plenty of creepy men following me around Brighton. Shuddering, I slam the car door shut, huddling in my coats. For a second there, I let myself forget what I was running from.

But I guess I can’t ever run away from the truth.