What Were You Expecting?

“Regnery’s writing and tempo are top-notch.”

—
Library Journal Xpress Reviews

Nils Lindstrom and Maggie Campbell have been circling each other for years. A strong attraction simmers between them, and their hearts beat only for each other. But a tragic secret keeps them apart.

Out of the blue, Maggie learns her U.S. visa has expired and she’ll be deported. Nils offers marriage under guise of a favor, but only if they can just remain friends. Despite the whisperings of his heart, falling in love again is a risk he won’t take. Yet, regardless of how it begins, marriage can take on a life of its own—and true love is more powerful than either Maggie or Nils ever expected.

www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING?
Copyright © 2014 Katharine Gilliam Regnery

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

ISBN 978-1-941260-40-1

For real-life Summer.

Because she’s fighting.

And because she’s going to win.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22

Epilogue
About the Author

Chapter 1

Maggie Campbell was drunk.

She was good and drunk and having a damn good time, but a frustratingly difficult time keeping her balance. The revelers from the annual Gardiner May Day celebration had somehow ended up at the Blue Moon Raccoon Saloon when the rain started pelting them from every direction. Everyone who’d been listening to the band on the high school football field had run for cover, and a sizeable crowd had amassed at the local suds purveyor. After a few hours at the bar, Maggie and her friend Paul Johansson were definitely the worse for wear.

“Maggie, give us another toast!” demanded Maurice Evans, beer held high over his head, shaking in his unstable grip to shower him lightly with sloshes.

Likely owing to the fact that drunken Maggie had a strong, cheerful brogue and a cache of ribald toasts bestowed upon her young ears by her often-drunk Scottish father, she’d become a crowd favorite and they unplugged the jukebox every thirty moments or so to request another celebratory cheers. Of course, this meant that twice an hour Maggie chugged a beer, the effects of which were affecting her aforementioned balance.

Maggie put her hand on her friend Paul’s shoulder, bracing on the foot rung of the bar stool, and held up her own full beer with her other hand. The crowd grew still as all eyes turned to look at the petite redhead as she balanced precariously.

“May there always be work for your hands to do.

May your purse always hold a coin or two.”

She turned toward the door and then grinned back at the crowd.

“May the sun always shine upon your window pane…”

They chuckled with approval as she added,

“May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain.

May the hand of a friend always be near to you and

May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.”

She beamed at the crowed, licking her lips as her beer teetered in her wobbly grasp and added with flair, “
Alba gu brath
!”

The crowd roared in approval, clinking their glasses together and chugging down their beers, none the wiser that they were all drinking to Scotland’s long life. The jukebox was plugged in again and the raucous fiddles of Mumford & Sons thundered over the cheering of the crowd.

That’s precisely the time the room started to spin.

Even Paul didn’t notice as Maggie started to lose her balance, swaying as she finished her beer and started to lower the hand that held the glass. Maggie closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the swirling start. Knowing she was likely to fall she let her muscles go to jelly to lessen the impact. She certainly didn’t have enough strength to stop herself.

She heard the screech of the stool’s wooden legs as it skittered a short way across the floor and heard the hard clunk of her empty pint glass hitting the wooden bar. She looked down, as though in slow motion, to see Paul’s horrified eyes, his arm flailing upward to grab her before she fell backward.

And then suddenly, a hard, warm wall slammed into her back and strong arms encircled her. She let her head fall back until it rested on the flannel shelf of a shoulder, and she heard
his
voice, soft and urgent in her ear, “I’ve got you, Maggie May.”

His breath on her skin made her eyes flutter closed and she leaned back into him. When her feet hit the floor, he released her then reached for the bar in front of them. He held onto it to protect her from the jostling crowd by trapping her between his chest and the bar.

“You okay?”

His lips were so close to her ear, she trembled lightly as she caught her breath. Every time he took a breath his chest pushed into her back. She was having trouble concentrating on anything else.

“Mags?”

The concern in his voice deserved an answer, so she took a deep, ragged breath and turned around, looking up to find familiar light blue eyes searching hers with worry.

Nils Lindstrom.

Over six feet tall and built like a lumberjack, Nils towered over her. He wore a plaid flannel shirt over a white t-shirt, both tucked into standard Levis that were a touch too tight in the front, showing a bulge along the inseam of his right thigh.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and her shoulders slumped with the wave of longing that crashed over her. Nils Lindstrom was one of her circle of friends, but—unbeknownst to him—he’d also pretty much owned her heart for the past four years.

He hooked a finger under her chin and drew her eyes up, hopefully missing the way she’d been checking him out. “You going to be sick?”

She stared up at him, wishing for the thousandth time that he could see her as more than a friend. Of course he would have been somewhere in the bar watching her make a fool of herself standing on bar stools and yelling toasts in Gaelic. She reached up to wipe her lips with the back of her hand, feeling her already-flaming cheeks heat up like a pagan bonfire. She was drunk, she’d almost face-planted into the bar floor, and now he was making sure she wouldn’t vomit all over him.
Oh, for the love of—
could she never, ever catch a break with this man?

“I’m fine,” she said tightly, her accent more pronounced in her ears than usual. She turned her neck to her left to detach her chin from his finger.

Her friend Paul grinned at her sheepishly over Nils’s arm. “Sorry I didn’t catch you in time, Mags.”

Maggie grinned at her drinking buddy. “No harm done.”

“Could’ve
been harm done.” Nils’s voice was thick with censure. When Maggie looked up at him, he was eyeing Paul with annoyance.

Paul Johansson was the best friend of Nils’s younger brother, Lars.

“Wasn’t Paul’s fault if I chose to get up on a barstool and act like a drunkard.” She gestured to the bartender for another beer.

“Another, Maggie?”

“Lots of anothers,” she answered, annoyed her words sounded so jumbled. Not that she minded, really, but she wondered how long Nils planned to keep her imprisoned between his arms. Must have been the beer that prompted her to ask him, “So, how long are ye trappin’ me here, Nils? Keen to babysit me t’night, are ye?”

His blue eyes captured hers, searching and intense, narrowing at her tone. “A
thank-you
wouldn’t be remiss, Maggie May.”

Maggie couldn’t explain why his words got her back up, but they did. She didn’t want to thank him for saving her. She wanted him to see her as a woman, as more than just a friend. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to take her back to his place or over to hers and tear her clothes off. Preferably with his teeth.

“Thaaanks,” she said slowly, licking her lips in a way she hoped was seductive but they were so dry she re-licked them a few more times before catching herself. From the gaping look on his face, she was pretty sure she’d somehow managed to look more like a lizard than a
femme fatale
.

Nils stared at her lips for a moment then flicked his eyes to hers. His nostrils flared lightly and his jaw pulsed once, twice, before he dropped his arms and turned to Paul. “Do a better job looking out for her.”

Then he turned on his heel without another word, parting the crowd as he headed out of the bar.

***

Damn Maggie anyway.

She was going to get herself hurt if she kept carrying on that way. Well, she could just be Paul’s problem for the rest of tonight. The last thing Nils needed in his life was a woman who took too many stupid risks. No matter how he felt about her.

The cold rain pelted Nils’s face and the mountain air felt heavy in his lungs as he took a deep breath, his beat-up cowboy boots sloshing through the mixture of mud and puddle water as his long strides took him further away from the bar where Maggie was making a spectacle of herself. He turned up the collar of his Shetland jacket as the rain slicked his blond hair to his head.