Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5)(63)

“I’m hungry, Uncle Ollie,” Linnie says.

I groan, both at the thought of food and the thought of getting up to make it for her. “Want to raid your snack cabinet?” I ask her weakly.

She frowns. “I want dinner, Uncle Ollie.”

Man, she’s right. I peer up at the clock, then down at my phone, wracking my brain. I could order food, but everything will take at least half an hour to get here, and when Linnea tells you she’s hungry, she’s hungry. She’s not going to happily eat snacks and wait through yet another Daniel Tiger episode for her dinner.

I have to think. I need someone who can make Linnea a dinner she’ll eat while I curl up in the fetal position on the sofa, and I need them fast.

In short, I need a miracle.

Suddenly a light flicks on outside, pouring long, bright beams through the windows into my living room, which has turned dark with sunset. I glance toward their source and freeze.

Gavin stands on his back porch, hands on his knees, chest heaving, gray T-shirt drenched in sweat. He stands slowly, as if it pains him, then takes a ginger step, then another, before typing in the passcode to enter his house.

Wherever Viggo is, he’s probably smiling deviously, drumming his romance-loving fingers together. Out of pure spite, I want to ignore the only real solution that I have, which is the same solution Viggo presented: Gavin.

I really, really don’t want to ask him for a favor. If this were purely about me, I wouldn’t do it. But this is about Linnie who whines, “My belly is hungry, Uncle Ollie!”

Sighing, I unlock my phone and pull up Gavin’s number. The last thing I want to do with the guy who I’m still really horny for but am supposed to be avoiding is beg him to come over and feed my niece, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Oliver: I have an emergency.





My phone buzzes almost immediately with his response.

Gavin: What’s wrong?





Oliver: My stomach’s upset. I’m not contagious, just indigestion. My niece is here and she’s hungry and I need an adult who can make her dinner while I’m a pathetic lump on the couch. She goes to bed fairly soon, I just need someone to fill in the gaps until then. An hour, hour and a half, tops.





I hold my breath, truly unsure how this is going to play out. Gavin might just be a big enough dick to tell me this sounds like a personal problem and he can’t help me. My phone buzzes.

Gavin: I smell foul. I went for a run and I’m covered in sweat, so let me rinse off quickly, then I’ll be over.





I send him ten prayers-of-thanks emojis, then drop my phone and gently nudge my niece, pausing Daniel Tiger so she’ll look at me. “Hey, Linnie. Remember Gavin, from Uncle Ollie’s team?”

She frowns my way. “Uh-huh. Why?”

“He’s my neighbor, and he’s going to come make dinner for you and keep you company since I don’t feel so good. I’ll be right here, but I just need to stay lying down. Can you go unlock the back door so he can come in?”

“Why?” she says.

Why. Her favorite word.

“My belly hurts, and I need an adult to help me take care of you until it stops.”

Her bottom lip sticks out, a thoughtful pout. “Is he gonna be grumpy to me?”

I swallow nervously, making a promise I hope Gavin doesn’t make me regret. “No, he won’t. He’s not always grumpy.” My heart does a weird flip-flop as I remember his hand clasping mine on the plane, cupping my neck in the locker room before that first preseason game, his calming voice, low and steady, reassuring me. “He’s just grumpy sometimes. He won’t be now.”

“Why is he grumpy sometimes?” she asks.

“People are grumpy sometimes because they don’t feel good, or they’re unhappy, or it makes them feel protected. But most of the time grumps are like…Mormor’s”—that’s what Linnie calls my Mom—“kladdkaka: hard on the outside, but soft and warm on the inside.”

Linnie smiles. She loves kladdkaka, a thick, rich Swedish chocolate cake that I love, too. “Okay, sounds good,” she says, skipping over to the back door, flipping the lock, then running back to the couch to watch Daniel Tiger.

Five minutes later, my house security beeps right after my phone buzzes with a text.

Gavin: Coming in the back door.





I don’t bother texting him back. Because he’s here, now, standing in my house, and it’s really weird.

Good weird. I think. Judging by the warm, fizzy sensation churning inside me that has nothing to do with lingering indigestion. Gavin’s hair is wet and messy, like he literally just showered, toweled it, then hustled across the yard. He’s wearing black sweats and a black shirt, and he toes off gray sneakers with black stripes as he stares straight at me.

“You all right?” he asks.

I smile gamely. “Never better.”

He shuts the door behind him. “Food poisoning?”

“Nah. What I ate just isn’t sitting right with me.”

Gavin seems skeptical. “You look like hell.”

“Heck,” I tell him, jerking my head toward Linnea, who stares at Daniel Tiger.

He glances her way and frowns. “Ah. Right. No swearing around young impressionable minds.”