Svensson to the Rescue

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2 out of 2 <3

Enjoy!

K. xx

***

"Darling, if we leave now, we will be at least fifty minutes too early," he said with a laugh, locking the door behind them.

"I'm Nordic, Oli," she hissed as much as jogging to her car. Probably, not the best idea on these twelve centimetre heels. "Being late is my biggest nightmare. Get in the car, please."

He folded his massive body into the passenger seat, and Ulla started the engine. He looked around.

"It is rather small, isn't it?" he drew out.

Ulla hummed absentmindedly, turning on the wipers.

"Makes you wonder how we... fit," he added cheekily, and she threw him a sardonic look.

"You kicked my glove box and pushed the seat all the way back," Ulla reminded him, driving the car into the street carefully.

"Did I?" he asked with sincere surprise. "I have to admit, the first hour of it is rather hazy in my memory."

"Please, stop talking about shag," Ulla begged. "I'm trying to focus on the road." She almost bit into her bottom lip in concentration, but remembered her lipstick. "Perhaps, we should've asked James to drive us."

"You wouldn't enjoy it," he said with a chuckle. "He's always late."

"Then I'm happy we didn't," she said. "So, where in the vicarage is the party held? Is there some sort of a hall?"

"That's an excellent question, actually," he drew out pensively. "There isn't really. It's just a normal cottage of quite a small size. We passed it when we visited the church. It's right next to it."

Ulla couldn't recall. She threw him a quick concerned look.

"How many invitations did Reverend Phipps send out?"

"I don't know," Oliver said. "The envelope was quite thick, to think of it. Do you think there might be too many attendees?"

"It's John Barnett, he's properly popular," she said. "There will be uninvited guests."

"But the event wasn't advertised anywhere," Oliver dismissed. "Surely, just a few people will show up, those that were invited. Just to do Mrs. Barnett a favour to support her son."

"Um, Oli– I think you underestimate his fanbase. Among other things, he's rather popular with women. There are– avid fans," she added in a pointed tone.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and Ulla laughed at his confused tone.

"Well, he's this sort of a– murderous hobbit," she said. "He's all soft and mellow, and wears knitted waistcoats, but on the other hand, he's known to punch a face or two. Actually, mostly one face. There's this ongoing rivalry between him and Jack Richards, another mystery writer. It started years ago, and then a love triangle was added to the mix, and now Richards is married to this bird, and they both write her into their books in steamy scenes."

"Do you mean Gemma Wright?" he asked innocently, and she whipped her head to gawk at him - for no longer than two seconds - and then she focused on the road again. "John is mates with Richards," he explained. "I've had lunch with him once, the three of us met up in London. A very pleasant man."

"Could you do me a favour, Oli?" Ulla gritted through her teeth. "Next time I'm blathering thinking I'm impressing you with my worldliness, while you're actually much cooler than me, please, tell me right away? Before I make a complete idiot out of myself."

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