Whiskey Sharp: Jagged
Whiskey Sharp: Jagged
Lauren Dane
The sweetest reward comes after the longest wait.Vicktor Orlov took one look at one look at the wary gaze and slow to trust personality of the deliciously sexy and fascinating Rachel Dolan and knew he wanted more than just a casual friendship. But as a natural protector, he also knew bossiness and overprotective maneuvering would push her away. He’ll use every tool in his easygoing, laidback arsenal to convince her to take a chance on them.Rachel’s flourishing new career as a tattoo artist has brought color back into a life previously damaged by violence. She knows she can trust Vic, it’s herself she’s not sure of. She doesn’t want to be caged or controlled, protected so much she had no ability to make her own choices. And damn if the man doesn’t know it.When Vic finally drops all pretenses of “just friends” and focuses all his careful affection and irresistible seduction on her, Rachel knows she’s falling hard for the laid back pretty boy Russian she’d discovered had a relentlessly steel spine when it came to her.And she can’t resist.
The sweetest reward comes after the longest wait
Vicktor Orlov took one look at the wary gaze and slow-to-trust personality of the deliciously sexy and fascinating Rachel Dolan and knew he wanted more than just a casual friendship. But as a natural protector, he also knew bossiness and overprotective maneuvering would push her away. He’ll use every tool in his easygoing arsenal to convince her to take a chance on them.
Rachel’s flourishing new career as a tattoo artist has brought color back into a life previously damaged by violence. She knows she can trust Vic—it’s herself she’s not sure of. She doesn’t want to be caged or controlled, protected so much she has no ability to make her own choices. And damn if the man doesn’t know it.
When Vic finally drops all pretenses of “just friends” and focuses all his careful affection and irresistible seduction on her, Rachel knows she’s falling hard for the laid-back pretty-boy Russian she’s discovered has a relentlessly steel spine when it comes to her.
And she can’t resist.
Also By Lauren Dane (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
The Best Kind of Trouble
Broken Open
Back to You
Whiskey Sharp: Unraveled
Whiskey Sharp: Jagged
Whiskey Sharp: Torn
Also available from Lauren Dane and Carina Press
Second Chances
Believe
Goddess with a Blade series
Goddess with a Blade
Blade to the Keep
Blade on the Hunt
At Blade’s Edge
Diablo Lake series
Diablo Lake: Moonstruck
Diablo Lake: Protected
Cascadia Wolves series
Reluctant Mate
Pack Enforcer
Wolves’ Triad
Wolf Unbound
Alpha’s Challenge
Bonded Pair
Twice Bitten
de La Vega Cats series
Trinity
Revelation
Beneath the Skin
Cherchez Wolf Pack series
Wolf’s Ascension
Sworn to the Wolf
Chase Brothers series
Giving Chase
Taking Chase
Chased
Making Chase
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Whiskey Sharp: Jagged
Lauren Dane
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08321-8
WHISKEY SHARP: JAGGED
© 2018 Lauren Dane
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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This one goes out to all the badasses with an aftermath story. Big or small, you survive. You make it through and serve as an example to the rest of us. Thank you.
Author Note (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
While Pioneer Square and SoDo are two very real neighborhoods in downtown Seattle, I’ve taken some liberties. Added some buildings, renamed a few, as it helped flesh out the characters and their stories. Still, Pioneer Square is every bit the former home to bootleggers and the criminal element partly responsible for the face of the city today.
Contents
Cover (#ubb12082d-3c09-5368-9851-e939b8e58953)
Back Cover Text (#u19e717dc-c715-5a7b-9d87-43cb52b0eb92)
Booklist (#ub50bd5a3-8a29-5df5-8b41-5317403f978a)
Title Page (#u2ed97774-251f-5425-83de-e47cb65a3da1)
Copyright (#uef28420e-7e68-52cf-8173-40a8ee3083b1)
Dedication (#u8f173e10-676c-5a06-8474-17089f4de6a1)
Author Note (#uc42a8774-6e60-5cfb-91b9-c63a106bf741)
CHAPTER ONE (#ub6ef8e17-ad09-5212-88dc-8aed183d9a92)
CHAPTER TWO (#u46804d10-3dee-568b-b939-2c7664e2856b)
CHAPTER THREE (#ub7e4b157-a60b-5bc4-825b-8dc42cc1c7a3)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u7c5ffdc3-f0e2-5d23-aa3d-070d2c1fce09)
CHAPTER FIVE (#uea70c1e9-98b4-57a2-b92f-a7483ec48a79)
CHAPTER SIX (#u50a15c7e-b8f2-5561-8862-2772cb7361e2)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u1b17e9a8-ba34-511f-9f9c-a125c115270e)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
LINES ON THE PAGE. Each sketch, each movement created a world she was responsible for. A world whose rules she made. A world whose rules they obeyed.
For a control freak like Rachel, it was as good as the talk therapy she’d been in for the last three years. It freed her. Gave her the ability to effect change on multiple levels.
And she didn’t need to hunt serial killers or carry a gun to do it.
It was also a hell of a lot safer.
Sleep often eluded her, but the creative fire that had ignited into fierce existence in the wake of the events that had shattered her entire life four years ago rarely did. So when she couldn’t find rest, she could always find art.
Her music wasn’t so loud she missed the ping of her phone, indicating a text.
I’m in my driveway. Your light is on. Are you still awake?
Her pulse kicked at the sight of his name on her phone’s screen. Vicktor Orlov. Heard the words in his voice in her head. That accent, a sexy Russian lilt though he’d been born in the United States. Growing up in a houseful of Orlovs and various relations with heavy accents had been close enough, she figured.
And it worked. Like really, really worked. It didn’t hurt that he also happened to be gorgeous. Sinfully sexy. Funny. Super smart. He worked with his hands so he had great forearms. One of her favorite parts of a man.
Over the years Rachel and Maybe had lived next door to his parents, he’d come to be an acquaintance. And since her sister had gone and fallen in love with his cousin, Rachel and Vic had gone from acquaintances to friends.
And the door had been opened to something else. Something more. The possibility of what could be hung between them.
She considered not replying. He wouldn’t know either way. He was messy. She couldn’t keep him in a tidy box marked Friend. Not any longer and certainly not if she went and texted with him at three forty-seven in the morning.
Couldn’t sleep. Working instead. Why are you up so early? Hot date that went late? Just enjoying stalking my window like a creeper?
It was a joke, or she wouldn’t have said it. His house sat on the curve of their street, so from his front window and driveway he could see the side of the house Rachel’s bedroom was on.
I run a bakery. I’m usually up by four thirty most days. Today I switched with my mother so she could accompany Evie to a doctor’s appointment. I start work in about half an hour or so.
Ah.
He always smelled really good. Like bread and cake and just a smidge of vanilla. She wanted to take a bite. Or a lick. Something of the sort.
Vic made her tingly and warm and sometimes he made her want things she didn’t need.
And yet, she found herself responding because she liked him—more than she should—and around Vic she was less alone. And maybe closer to being a normal person again who did things like have crushes and went out on dates with hot bakers.
Save me a loaf of black bread. I’ll drop by later this morning to pick it up on my way to work.
Then she’d be able to get some food and look her fill at him while she did it.
That’d most definitely give her workday a fine start.
I’ll save you two and throw in some salmon. But you don’t need to come get it. I’ll be done by eleven. I’ll drop it by your house when I go home.
A flush washed through her. She’d be alone in the house by then.
It wasn’t that having him in her house was bad. It was that he was dangerous for her constitution because she wanted to jump on him and ride him like a stallion.
Which would be a bad idea. Probably.
Possibly.
Not that she planned on avoiding it. The having him in her house part. The riding like a stallion was still in the fantasy stages.
Okay. Thanks, she typed back.
It wasn’t like she had no self-control. She could say hello and look at his butt and flirt and it would be fine. She was a grown woman!
And, since this was just a conversation in her head, she could admit that maybe she wanted something to happen with him. They had chemistry—major chemistry—and she got the feeling, given the way he moved, that he knew his business when it came to a woman’s body.
She went back to her pad but instead of the drawing, all she could think of was Vic and those shoulders of his. Wide. Not linebacker wide, but solid and strong. Capable. She liked that.
In fact, she was bummed she’d agreed to let him bring the bread to their house because she realized he probably looked ridiculously hot when at work. She bet it was pornographic just watching him knead bread. She already had watched him in her kitchen doing things and gotten a little swoony.
Yeah.
Her phone pinged again.
How often do you have trouble sleeping?
That was a very long and complicated subject and one she didn’t want to get into via text, in the middle of some flirting.
I get most of my best work done after midnight.
Truth.
He sent her a selfie. One of his brows was raised and he wore a smirk. All parts south of her hairline went on alert. She’d be keeping that picture of him. Just for reference. Or something.
He was unf-worthy for sure. He was just so fucking much. Hot hot hot.
Hm. What’s that face for?
Other than licking and kissing. Perhaps even a nuzzle of that spectacular beard.
That’s my I don’t believe you face. As for sleeplessness, I have some tea that might help. I’ve had bouts myself. What time do you leave for work?
Rachel frowned again and then forced herself to relax. That line between her eyes was getting deeper due to what her sister called glowering. Whatever it was called, it was going to make her look old if she didn’t stop it.
She’d rather think about how Vic’s waist nipped in, creating some sort of inhuman pizza shape of gorgeousness from his shoulders to his other parts, like his penis.
His cock was probably commensurate with his overall size. Which meant big. And what sane gal didn’t like that? Well, if she liked dick in the first place—and Rachel most assuredly did.
Her little sister, Maybe, had been giving more get it, girl messages when it came to Vic over the last weeks.
Maybe, with all her glitter and snarling punk rock. Her sister was a little bit of the best parts of all sorts of things and she blurted weird stuff all the time.
It was one of her finest qualities because you always knew where you stood with Maybe. She didn’t play games and she loved and protected Rachel as if it was she who was the oldest, not Rachel.
Hello? Did you fall asleep? he texted.
Before she’d gone off on some fantasy about his body, he’d asked her a question, hadn’t he?
I’m leaving at a quarter to noon so I can catch my bus.
Rachel liked taking the bus. It forced her out of her comfort zone to be around people in such close quarters. Every time she managed to make it through without freaking out or getting even slightly uncomfortable she began to believe she’d truly be better at some point. And it cost a crapton of money to park in Pioneer Square.
Some days she drove or rode in with Maybe and Alexsei, who both worked just a block away from the tattoo shop, but that day she’d planned on busing into downtown as her sister and her sister’s boyfriend were headed in earlier than Rachel needed to be there.
I have to go back downtown this afternoon anyway. I’ll be at your house by eleven thirty. I’ll make you brunch and give you a ride to work after. Turning off my phone now as I’m headed out the door. See you later today.
Oh! The cheek! Rachel stared at her phone a few moments and then, with a smile, she tossed it to the bed and took up her pen once more.
* * *
THERE WAS FROST on the front lawn as Vic pulled away from his house and headed toward the bakery his family had run for the last thirty years. It crouched right at the southern edge of downtown Seattle most locals referred to as SoDo.
The location meant their business was heavy with commuters and downtown workers at their lunch hours when they wanted to pick up one of the bakery’s runzas for a quick meal. It also meant they were closed by three and on most weekends.
The bakery was pretty much always busy. A constant stream of customers, punctuated by rushes, meant the place was either full of customers, or all the employees were busily setting up for the next round of things to do.
As jobs went, it was a good one. Kept him busy. Paid his bills and enabled him to keep a hand in the family business along with his sister and parents. Gave him the space to keep an eye on everyone and make sure they were doing okay. Especially in the wake of his brother’s death when the family had all but fallen apart.
He pulled into one of the two parking spots that came with the building and unlocked the back door, turning on the lights in the smaller prep kitchen before heading down into the heart of the bakery where the big ovens lived.
This was a place he knew. A place he’d been part of—and had been part of him—since before he could walk. As much a home as the place he’d slept at night.
He knew the slight warp on his favorite pastry scraper. The way the lights made the stainless steel worktables gleam. He hung his coat on the second hook, replacing the clean apron his mother had left on her way out the afternoon before.
First he turned on some music. Phantogram’s “You’re Mine” came on and smiling, he began to make dough.
He’d done it so many times it was second nature. Muscle memory as he dumped the yeast into the flour. The ancient mixer was still there because despite its age, it worked perfectly.
As the place began to hum and the dough took shape he allowed himself to think about his exchange with Rachel.
Want roared through him. He’d had a thing for his parents’ mysterious and broken next-door neighbor for well over a year by that point and over the last few months their friendship had deepened to the point where he’d truly gotten to know her better.
And now he was pretty sure he was already half in love with her.
At first he’d thought she was stuck-up. But he’d come to realize a lot of what he’d perceived as standoffishness had to do with anxiety and a bit of fear. The longer she and Maybe had lived in Seattle, the more she’d begun to settle in, the less anxious she appeared to be. And thankfully he saw way less fear in her eyes—especially when she looked at him—over the last year. She was taking her life back, pulling herself from the dark place she’d been. It was like watching a phoenix.
Just a few days past, Rachel’s father had burst into her home and threatened to institutionalize her under a conservatorship and keep the sisters apart. Their burning resentment of Maybe, and the overly controlling parenting of the oldest, Rachel, had boiled over into what Vic believed was a death blow to the parent-child relationship for both Richard Dolan’s children.
And as hard as it had been to see Rachel’s heart get broken by her parents, it had been the way she’d stood up for herself and her sister that had been the last sign Vic had needed.
Rachel was strong. Fierce. Independent and utterly capable. This was a woman he could pursue in earnest without worry. He’d wanted to give her time and space to heal and to grow to trust him.
In truth, he hadn’t been ready either. Not ready to step into something he knew without a doubt would be serious. But he’d been in her kitchen as her father had been railing about something ridiculous and the desire to protect her had been nearly overwhelming. In that moment everything had shifted. He hadn’t felt this way—this powerfully—for a woman in a long time.
He saw her so clearly, saw the beauty of the strength at her core, he knew there’d be no peace for his heart until he kissed her. And more, though that was down the road a ways. Knew too that he was ready to dedicate the time and attention a woman like Rachel and a relationship with her would deserve. She needed spoiling and he was the guy to deliver.
She called to him. Something inside him stirred every single time he saw her. Her eyes and the shadows there. Her flaws and the way she powered through and did what needed to be done, even when the cost was written all over her face. All of it comprised the whole of her. The whole, fascinating bundle of gorgeous contradiction.
He’d been thinking about her so hard he didn’t even hear his dad come in until he spoke. “I’m getting too old to be out of my bed on a cold dark morning.”
An oft-repeated thing from his father, who’d most likely be happily kneading dough right where he stood just then until he was ninety-five.
“I told you to sleep in today. Nicklaus is coming in soon.” Nicklaus had worked at the bakery for fourteen years and he was Vic’s right-hand man. He normally did the first shift, getting the dough started before the second crew—including Vic—arrived at five. Bread would be in various stages of the process, proofing, baking, second rise, resting and once done, put in wire baskets Vic was sure were older than he was to hang on hooks at the top of the stairs to be brought to the counter.
His aunt Klara ran the upstairs with his mom and they made up the last shift that started at six thirty. Evie usually came in around six. Her specialty was the sweet dough. Together with their father, they’d make vatrushka with apricots, a particular favorite of their customers, along with cinnamon rolls and the other sweets that they’d sell over the course of the day.
Every single employee of the Orlov Family Bakery was truly family, including Nicklaus, who was a second cousin. For a long time Vic had appreciated that, but hadn’t understood just how important it was. And then Danil had died and without the support of his extended family Vic was sure they wouldn’t have gotten through it.
His dad slung on his apron, tying it around his waist with a satisfied grunt. Vic didn’t bother to point out the freshly brewed pot of coffee. His father was old school. He had coffee with cake and black tea with everything else.
“Your mother was up. She’s in fine form. Bossing the dogs around. I got out before she started on me too.” Though he sounded grumpy, Vic knew it was an act. His parents had a real, deep and intense connection. They could fight, that was also true, but they’d drawn closer each time they’d been hit with tragedy as well as when times were good.
His sister, Evie, had said once that they were spoiled by that example and would never accept anything less than a love like that.
He agreed. Vic felt settling was for pizza and music when on a road trip. It was definitely not for love.
While getting his tea, Vic’s father switched the music from Vic’s choice to Stevie Wonder. Vic hid a smile and kept working. His father was the senior member of the staff and the family. He got to make the musical and television choices. This was his edict for all of Vic’s and Evie’s lives.
“I’m going to ask Rachel Dolan out,” Vic said, forming high, round loaves on the long worktable.
“You’ll lose your heart to that girl,” his father murmured as he stirred sugar into his tea.
Surprised and not entirely sure what his dad had meant, Vic said, “I like her. I have for a long time now. But I knew we had to be friends first. She’s not going to do me wrong.”
His dad grunted a laugh. “Not my worry.” He switched to Russian, which Vic knew was his dad’s emotional language. “She is fragile and yet resilient. That draws you. You are easy to laugh. Easy to lend a hand. But she is not easygoing. She comes with heartache and sadness.”
“So do I,” Vic said.
His dad nodded again. “It’s why you two are drawn together. You want to fix things. Make people happy. You always have. Our little sunshine child, your mother says. But here, with your Rachel, you can’t fix what’s broken with her. You have to live with that and so does she.”
Hard, he understood, to sit by when someone you cared about dealt with the sort of pain Rachel toted around.
“One step at a time. First dinner and maybe a movie.”
“Tell me, why now?”
There wasn’t any judgment in his dad’s tone. His parents liked the Dolan sisters a great deal. But he wanted to understand. Which is why Vic had brought it up, because he knew his dad would give him good advice and a pep talk that might or might not include an actual kick to the seat of his pants.
Just in case, Vic always kept a safe distance for escape.
He told his father about the scene he’d witnessed at Rachel’s house just a few days prior. Explained how he’d felt, how much he’d wanted to burn things down to protect her, even as he’d admired her strength and spirit when she stood up for herself and her sister.
“I just knew I wanted her to be mine. I looked at her and she was hurting and it meant something to me. I wanted to fix it. Assure her she was everything her father told her she wasn’t.” And because she’d let him stay to witness the whole scene, it had also felt like she’d opened the door up into a far closer and more intimate relationship.
His father glowered. He adored Maybe with all her vibrant color and noise. Every time she came over to his parents’ place, his dad would brighten. They’d already begun to see her as a daughter and had definite opinions about how the Dolans treated their children.
He stabbed a finger in the air before he put his tea aside and began to work. “I don’t like those people. How they upset their daughters!”
What’d been revealed during that terrible scene was very private. But he knew Maybe would be all right with him talking to his family about it. He told his father about how Rachel and Maybe’s dad blamed their youngest daughter for being repeatedly sexually propositioned and stalked by one of his coworkers. Told him about how devastated Rachel had been that her sister had been so abused and hurt. The guilt he knew she would never let go because she hadn’t protected Maybe.
His father cursed a long stream in Russian. Not loud. No, when Pavel Orlov got pissed, he got quiet. He bellowed when he was happy instead.
Vic merely nodded at his father before continuing. “They want to control Rachel. Take away something she needs to make her dependent on them. If they succeed in taking her freedom, we’ll fight for her. She can’t be caged.” She’d been at the mercy of someone else when she’d been kidnapped and Vic knew she’d break if it happened again.
“You make sure she gets the papers to protect herself,” his dad told him.
“She’s supposed to call Seth to get his advice.” Seth was his cousin Cristian’s fiancé. He was a cop with the Seattle Police Department so he had good information and given the way Seth was, he’d walk her through the process. “I’m making her brunch later on today so I’ll make sure she does it then.”
“You be careful too. The father is dangerous. It would be good if they leave Maybe alone now. It’s Rachel they want. But if they can’t get it...”
Richie Dolan had a temper. One laced with threat and menace and Vic didn’t like it at all. He was the type of man who probably bumped shoulders with other men to assert some sort of dominance.
Vic didn’t underestimate that threat. But he damned sure bet Dolan underestimated his children and their resilience.
“I am. I promise,” Vic assured his dad.
CHAPTER TWO (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
RACHEL STOOD IN her closet, looking at her clothes. Annoyance warred with delight. It’d been a while since she’d dressed up for a man for more than just a few weeks of sex and then moving on. That was easy. A mask, a costume that spelled out the limits and boundaries of the interaction.
Sexy in a generic sense.
But Vic wasn’t some dude she’d bounced on a while. He was someone she knew and liked. Someone who came over to her house on a regular basis. A guy who’d seen some of her most private stuff aired out.
God. She shouldn’t do anything with him. Just stay friends. If they started something and it went bad it would be awkward. And she really liked the Orlovs and his cousin was living in her house, sullying up her sister. Gah!
So much energy buzzed just under her skin. Had been since she’d gotten out of bed and tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal that he was coming over and making her food and giving her a ride and being all helpful and nurturing and it was really insanely hot and comforting and he was sexy. So sexy and he wanted her. Her!
“Going off the rails here,” she murmured to herself.
Of course she was naturally going to try to talk herself out of getting into anything romantic with him. It was dumb and risky, just as she’d reminded herself.
And of course she was going to do it anyway.
He made her dizzy and sort of sappy and dumb and really horny. She wanted to see what it would be like. To have something with him, to give the zing a chance. She wanted to let herself feel all this really good stuff.
* * *
BY THE TIME he showed up at her door she’d managed to get the eyeliner on both sides into pretty respectable wings and given the goofy look on his face when he checked out her tits, the choice of the snug T-shirt she’d worn over a long-sleeved Henley was a good one.
“Hi.” He smiled at her, all gorgeous teeth framed by his beard. Sometimes she let her cheek brush it when he hugged her. And she wondered what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of her neck. Or the inside of her thighs.
Holding up an armful of packages, he thrust a huge bouquet of flowers at her. “I bring food and flowers in tribute.”
Rachel took them, pausing to breathe in the scent of the pink-tipped cream-toned roses he’d given her.
“Good morning.” She stepped back to let him come inside, taking a surreptitious sniff of him as he passed.
Yum.
She led him into the kitchen, where he began to unpack the haul he’d brought. Trying not to show how giddy she was that he’d brought her such pretty flowers, she made busy with trimming the stems and arranging them in a vase she placed in the center of the kitchen table.
“Thank you for the roses,” she said, shyness in her belly.
He turned, approaching her slowly until he’d backed her to the counter, his body shy of touching hers. “You deserve roses.”
The shyness in her belly turned to butterflies.
“I do?”
He nodded and then, shocked her into total stillness as he dipped and slid his lips over hers. Tasting. Sipping.
He backed up just a little before he got close again, this time sliding his tongue against her lips and into her mouth when she opened on a sigh of pleasure. The heat of him blanketed her, along with his scent, and she had to exercise all her self-control not to rub against him.
One last kiss, this one with a nip of her bottom lip. “I’ve been waiting a long time,” he murmured, gaze searching hers. Looking for fear? Hesitation?
She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly, one last time, chasing that query from his eyes.
“I hope it was worth the wait,” she said, trying to sound saucy.
He smirked. “It was.”
She smiled. “Good. I concur. On the being worth the wait, that is. Coffee?”
“Yes, that’d be great. Omelets okay?” he asked.
Nodding, she poured them both a large mug, leaving his near where he’d begun to assemble the ingredients for their meal.
“You know where the milk and sugar are if you want some.” She indicated the sugar bowl.
“My mother says I’m sweet enough on my own,” he told her.
Snorting, she rolled her eyes and went back to looking at him, enjoying the tingling left after that kiss.
“You do pretty well in that department, I must admit.”
Visibly pleased, he shrugged, not at all bashfully. He was just so damned self-assured. Easy with himself as he moved around her kitchen.
“I’ve decided we should go on a date. First dates can be weird, even when you already know the person. So I propose this to be our first date so when I take you out, it can be the second date and we don’t need to be nervous. Naturally there’ll be flowers because, as I mentioned, you deserve them.” He nodded as he began to assemble things in a fashion her love of order found very sexy. He poked around in the cabinets until he found what he needed and got about his business.
She sat back in her chair, utterly charmed. Damn it, why did he have to be so sexy and funny? So emotionally well adjusted and stuff? The whole of him was utterly irresistible.
It’d been hard enough when he was aiming all that charm at others. But over the last several months he’d turned it on her. Making it clear what his intentions were. Even as he never pressed for more than she was comfortable with she couldn’t deny the chemistry between them.
He’d pushed his sleeves up, exposing ridiculously sexy forearms, and then washed and dried his hands. He stood, giving her his profile, his features exposed because his hair—acres of thick, gorgeous hair, nearly shaved at the sides but long on top—was captured in a ponytail at the back of his head. He usually wore it that way when he worked.
It should have been douchey or bro-something. It was hot. Slightly messy but that was because he’d been up since four working on that upper body she got a little dizzy when she looked directly at. Like the sun.
“When you turn on the taps you go all the way, don’t you, pretty boy?”
“Too much?” he asked, knowing she wasn’t going to agree.
“It’s impressive.”
“Impressive is good.” Cocky, he raised a shoulder slightly.
“That remains to be seen,” she told him, teasing.
His laugh was one she hadn’t heard from him before. Low and lusty. It made all her hormones stand up and cheer.
“I’m very competitive. It means I tend to get very focused when I’m trying to hit something out of the park. Get your rest.”
It was Rachel’s turn to laugh. Flirting with him felt good. And she couldn’t deny the curiosity about just what he’d show her to impress her.
“Do you want ham or turkey?” He pointed at the cutting board with his knife.
“Ham is good. Thanks.”
Silence lived between them for a bit as he cooked, filling the kitchen with some really good scents. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Being with him rarely was.
“Busy morning at the bakery?” she asked.
“Even my mother was pleased with the business today. She’s a hard taskmaster and has very high standards when it comes to what she considers a successful day’s take.”
Rachel laughed. Mrs. Orlov was one of her favorite people. Though small in stature, she was a big presence. Especially within her family. A force to be reckoned with in her community.
She only hoped to one day live as boldly as her own person as Irena did.
As he made the food, she hopped down and began to slice thick pieces of bread to be toasted. Pretty much daily throughout the last several years, she’d eaten bread created in the Orlovs’ ovens. It had given her roots. A sense of place in her new life.
And at least a few more pounds.
“I brought fresh butter,” he told her, indicating a wax paper–wrapped square on the counter.
Fresh bread and butter brought to her by a gorgeous man? She must have done something pretty awesome in a past life.
“I also brought some of the tea I texted you about earlier today. Drink it an hour or so before you want to go to sleep.” He paused. “How are you feeling? Aside from the sleeplessness that is. I haven’t seen you in person since Sunday night.”
Embarrassment flooded her. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you had to see all that. We invite you over for a meal and then act like assholes.”
He looked up, anger on his features a moment. “You don’t apologize for that. I told you Sunday. Everything that happened was from your father. Don’t insult me with apologies.” He made a sound. A distinctly Russian thing his whole family tended to do when they got annoyed or impatient. A bah! of a sound.
It made her smile. She saluted him. “Okay then. I’m feeling tired. Worried, I suppose. But pissed off is the dominant emotion.”
“Did you call Seth about a protection order?”
“I called someone else. A friend of a friend. I used to be in law enforcement, remember? I have a meeting with an attorney tomorrow.” Though if Washington was like most other states, getting this order would be difficult because her father hadn’t physically threatened her.
But if an official body like a court told her father to leave her alone, he would. It would be the underline of authority he’d need to truly back off.
It hurt to know she was going to take an official step to keep her parents away from her. Hurt to know she had to.
He’d gone to the stove, the omelet now in a skillet.
They worked in the kitchen, stepping around one another to complete their tasks and she realized he didn’t evoke the need to step away. She didn’t think about how she’d take him down if he ever tried to hurt her. Not anymore anyway.
They were alone in her house and he was half a foot taller and she trusted him not to use that against her.
It made her feel just a little more human, a little more okay every time she was able to take a step back from that dark pit she’d been in for so long. She was more person than wounded animal in a trap.
* * *
THE WANT, THE need to put his mouth back on hers rode him hard. She was more than he’d thought even just an hour before.
Now that he’d tasted her there was no going back. No unknowing. Part of her lived in him now and he liked it.
He hadn’t planned to kiss her that morning. He’d wanted to wait until their date. But well, she’d been there and looked at him with that fucking gorgeous face. It had been better than he’d imagined it could be. The connection between them sparking to life.
Sexy. So sexy his skin seemed to buzz just being near her.
She placed a pitcher of juice on the table, nudging it his way.
“You’re a good host,” he told her as they sat.
“You did everything. All I had to provide was a table and some plates. I think I win.” She shook her head as she peppered her food. “And I also have to admit Alexsei is the one who grocery shops most often so I can’t even take credit for the juice.”
This private Rachel was one he craved. She was open with those closest to her. He loved it when she teased him. Her dry sense of humor had been a delight to discover. And the sexy flirting, a new addition to their interplay, had been a really great surprise.
“I bumped into Evie at the grocery store yesterday. She showed me pictures for a tattoo she wants,” she told him.
He withheld—barely—an eye roll. His sister was trendy. She had the latest shoes and clothes and now wanted a tattoo. But she was so picky it had been at least a year since she came up with the idea of getting one and hadn’t pulled the trigger on it because she couldn’t choose.
“It’s nice that you’re so close with her,” she said.
“She’s a pain in my ass with shit taste in men.” He shook his head. “But no one makes a cinnamon roll like her so I suppose we’re stuck with each other.” His little sister was the heart of their family. Especially since Danil had died.
“Little sisters are the best. Don’t tell Maybe I said so. I like to keep her guessing.”
Vic snorted. “I’m fairly sure your sister already knows you have a soft spot for her.”
“Someone needs to,” Rachel muttered.
Vic reached across the table and squeezed her hand, surprising them both. But she smiled, squeezed back and then pulled away.
“So. Our second date. What should we do? Dinner? Movie? Drinks? All three?” he asked.
She looked at him awhile. Not speaking. He looked back, wanting her to see he was serious.
“I’m weird.”
“Huh.” He cocked his head a moment. “I was not expecting that. Like at all.”
She laughed. “I’m told I can be unpredictable.”
He leaned closer, pleased at the way her pupils grew larger as he did. “I like unpredictable.” He took a bite, thinking over what else to say. “Are you trying to warn me off? List your supposed negative attributes so I’ll see you’re not worth my time? Because after those kisses I should warn you it’ll take more than you telling me you’re weird. In case you hadn’t noticed, my whole family is weird.”
She paused and he watched what had to be a dozen thoughts flit over her features. So expressive when she decided to share that part of herself with him.
He challenged her.
It made her feel like he knew she was strong enough to own her shit. So he called her on it because she was worth the energy.
“I’m just saying I come with a lot of baggage.” She shrugged. He was an excellent cook. The eggs were buttery soft, the saltiness of the ham a perfect addition.
He eased back, eating once again, but keeping his focus on her. “You’re attracted to me. We have some major chemistry. Are you saying I’m imagining it?”
She was a lot of things but she wasn’t a liar. Not even to herself.
“No. You’re not imagining it. Zing.” She waved a hand between them, indicating their attraction. “We’ve got it big time.”
His smile sent a shock of desire through her. “All right, that’s established. So why hesitate about coming out with me?”
“To be clear, I’m not hesitating about going out with you. I just wanted to be clear up front that I’m damaged goods.”
He sat back to take her in, all feline and powerful. He moved like music, caught her up in him like magic.
“You’re not damaged, Rachel. You’ve had life happen to you. And some of it was a nightmare.”
A nightmare she wasn’t entirely done with. Some scars never healed.
Most people wanted to save her. Pity her while being fascinated by the gruesome details.
He just was. When he was around her, he expected nothing more than what she wanted to give. She’d never really given thought to what it might feel like to be doing this slow dance into romance with someone like him.
Easy. Alluringly so.
“Look at you having such an intense discussion in your head.” He began to eat again.
She could have told him it was too risky. His cousin was now living in her house. Utterly besotted with her sister who adored him right back. Vic also happened to be close as brothers with Alexsei so if things went very badly between them it would impact pretty much every aspect of their lives. His parents lived next door, along with his sister. He only lived half a block up. They saw one another at the various events the bakery had booths at, as well as at the barbershop Alexsei owned and Maybe worked at too. Which was four minutes door-to-door from the tattoo shop Rachel worked at.
But she didn’t say any of it. Because he knew all that already.
“It’s just dinner. We can work our way up from there. If you were going to try to talk yourself out of it, you should have done it earlier,” he added.
“You’re right.” She snapped free of her internal argument and snorted. “Fine. I just want to be sure you’re going into this realizing what you’re doing.”
“I always know what I’m doing, Rachel. I’m deliberate. I always have been. I’ve wanted to go out with you for quite a long time,” he said in an infuriatingly calm voice.
She tore off a piece of toast and jammed it into her mouth, chewing a while before finally asking the question that’d been nagging at her. “So why now? What changed from yesterday? Or the day before?”
She couldn’t deal with pity. Not from him.
“I let you have yesterday because after that fuckery on Sunday you needed a break. I also knew you and Maybe took the day off to hang out and I left you alone. But Sunday is when I knew. I’ll give you all the reasons why when you’re ready to hear them.”
“When I’m ready to hear them?”
“That’s what I said. Tell me, how is work?” he asked, changing the subject. She began to demand he tell her but hesitated.
“Busy. Lots of people like to get ink around Valentine’s Day.”
“Romantic gestures they’ll have to get covered up in a year?”
“I thought I was jaded,” she said.
He blushed and she couldn’t help the way it moved her.
“I’m not jaded. I can see the appeal of getting ink for your sweetheart. I know several people with horror stories, but they’d have horror stories either way, I suppose. The bakery does a brisk business for Valentine’s Day too. This year Evie is making heart-shaped vatrushka and she uses strawberry in the center.”
Oooh! “Did you bring one of those? It doesn’t have to be shaped like a heart as it’s already a pastry and I’d just eat it anyway.”
“I didn’t. For our second date, I’ll bring you some to go with the roses.”
That the normally easygoing Vic was coming back to the second date thing clued her in to the fact that he also could be like a dog with a bone when it came to getting what he wanted.
Damn it. Every second that passed he just got sexier.
Thankfully, since she wanted it too.
The moment stretched out between them as they finished brunch. Rachel tried not to jump up to clear off the table and clean the kitchen, telling him since he cooked she’d clean. It gave her some physical space and something to do while she processed the way he made her feel.
Vic eased back, watching her. Giving her silence but not taking his focus away. Once he’d fully stepped into her world, he apparently wasn’t going anywhere.
Which, she had to admit, was a nice thing. She wanted to be wary of it. Look for ulterior motives. But...he wasn’t that guy.
“Ready to go? I took what I needed to drop off next door on the way here so I can take you straight in. My mom isn’t home or I’d take you over there first,” he added.
“Really?” A flush of happiness hit that Irena wanted to see her and say hello. Vic’s mom had become more and more involved in the lives of the Dolan sisters.
Actually, it was more that Rachel and Maybe had been involved in their lives. The Orlovs and their wonderful, giant, loud family who’d begun to treat them as if they were family too.
“Yes, really. She likes you and Maybe. You listen to her stories and let her teach you things in her kitchen. That means a lot to her.”
It was totally mutual. Being able to hang out in Irena’s kitchen had been a reasonably new experience in her life. Rachel loved it there. Vic’s mom knew so much about so many things and was always happy to share her expertise. She was hilarious and nurturing and in general, a lot of fun.
“It’s the other way around. She’s always so patient even when I’m terrible at something.” Rachel grabbed her things and made one last check to be sure the stove was turned off before they headed out.
Vic said, as they reached her front door, “It’s what moms do.” It must have been her snort in response because he paused and then said, “What they should do.”
Even though he’d reassured her that she had nothing to apologize for after that scene with her parents, it still embarrassed her that he’d witnessed it.
She used the excuse of locking her door to get herself together again. But when she turned, he was there, a hand out to stay her.
“Wait,” he murmured as he bent to zip her coat. “Don’t want you getting cold.”
It was so unexpectedly sweet it knocked her off balance a moment. “Thanks,” she managed to say right before he gave her a quick kiss. Right there on her front porch.
His hand, warm and sure, sat at the small of her back as he steered her to his car and opened the door for her.
On the way to the south end of downtown that made up Pioneer Square, where Ink Sisters was located, she could have told him she didn’t need a ride to work. She could have driven. She could take the bus and still make it on time.
But the truth was, she wanted to spend more time with him. He smelled good and it was really cold and parking was expensive.
And she wanted to be able to be honest about her life with someone other than Maybe and their best friend, Cora.
He lightened her mood just by being around. Accepted her without expectations that felt like a burden.
“If it helps any, my mother is bossy and nosy and insufferably meddlesome sometimes,” Vic told her, surprising a laugh from her lips.
It used to feel sort of rusty when she laughed. Like an old hinge on a door not often used. But it didn’t feel like an act to laugh with him, didn’t feel unnatural to guffaw or snicker.
“I may have noticed that a few times,” Rachel told him, deadpan.
* * *
HE DUG HER sense of humor. Dry and sarcastic with a sense of darkness he undeniably clicked with.
“What time do you get off tomorrow? For our date.” He figured it was time for another pass at nailing down details.
She blushed, ducking her head slightly so her hair slid to partially screen her face. “Tomorrow is Wednesday so I’ll be done by seven.”
“I’ll drop by the shop at seven, then, to pick you up. I’ll drive you home and then you can come to my house when you’re ready.”
“I’m fairly sure you must have gotten this bossiness from your mother. I can just get home and meet you after that. Or we could go straight to dinner from Ink Sisters.”
“I know you can. I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night but I’m sure I’ll see you before that.” He hoped.
He pulled to a stop in the loading zone in front of the shop.
He wondered if she was going to argue and then wondered whether it would be a disappointment or not if he had to coax her into the plan. Coaxing her was rather pleasurable. And her crankiness was hot.
“Fine,” she agreed at last. “Thanks for brunch and the bread delivery. And the ride.”
“Wait just a moment,” he told her, reaching back to grab the bag he’d placed there for her earlier. “Shortbread cookies made this morning. Just in case you get a craving for something sweet later.”
Her mouth curved up into a smile before she leaned in to quickly brush her lips over his and scrambled away and out of the car. She held the bag aloft. “Thanks for these too.”
With a grin, he waved before heading back into traffic once he got an opening.
* * *
NEEDING TO TALK to Maybe immediately, Rachel hurried through the shop to the back where the lockers were.
“He gave me cookies,” Rachel told Maybe over the phone the moment she answered. She was so giddy she was past being embarrassed at how giddy she sounded.
“Who gave you cookies?”
“Vic! He came over and made me food and then grilled me sort of and then he told me we were going on a date. Our second one. Which we are tomorrow night and I’m not sure how it all happened. He’s very smooth and possibly he mesmerized me with his forearms. Maybe, have you seen the man’s forearms?”
Her sister laughed. “Took him long enough. I honestly was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to jump to it or if I was going to have to manufacture something to get you together. Jeez. And of course I’ve seen his forearms. They’re like art. They need to be appreciated.”
“So say we all,” Rachel told her. “It’d be a crime not to.”
“So you have a date. A second date, which means you declared brunch a date, which means there was at least some smooching today. Tell me everything right now,” Maybe demanded. “Did you do below the underpants stuff? Or is that what the second date is for? Probably second date.”
Rachel laughed so hard people in the shop most likely heard. “He made me food and kissed me stupid and gave me a ride to work and when we got here, he handed me a bag of cookies. You know, if I wanted something sweet today. It’s pretty hard to resist,” she admitted.
“So don’t. Why resist at all?” Maybe’s voice had softened.
“Well, you’re right. I’m not going to.”
“Duh. Save me two cookies. I want to hear every last detail about the brunch but I’ve got to run, my client is here. Don’t tell Cora first or she’ll lord it over me forever.”
The sisters had been close, but in the years since she’d been kidnapped, they’d become best friends. Without Maybe, and then later, Cora, Rachel wasn’t sure she’d have made it through some pretty rough spots as she recovered.
The three women had a deep bond and connection that included plenty of teasing and ass-kicking along with the love and support.
“I’ll tell her you said that. She’s going to ask me what happened the minute she comes in.”
“She’ll understand. Tonight how about we catch up on some shows, eat pizza and hang out? You can fill us both in then. Alexsei will be here until ten and then he and Vic are having drinks afterward so we have plenty of alone time to gossip,” Maybe said. “I gotta go. Love you. See you tonight at home.”
CHAPTER THREE (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
CORA SMIRKED AS she dumped off her bag and coat before coming through to the kitchen where Maybe was.
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let her tell me about the brunch. What if something of a sexual nature had taken place?” she said, pointing at Maybe.
Maybe said, “If something of a sexual nature happened she’d have made me come to the shop this afternoon. Or she’d have called you to meet her at Whiskey Sharp before she was due in. Crybaby. Pizza should be here in like ten minutes. I called when I got home.”
Cora hugged Maybe quickly before she got them all glasses, filling them with ice for the root beer she’d brought along.
“What are we watching tonight?” Rachel asked as she got plates down from the cabinet.
Maybe took one of her hands and tugged her to the couch, where she sat, Cora across from them perched in the big chair. “While we wait for pizza you need to tell us what happened with Vic.”
“Well, he texted me. I told you both about that. And then he waltzes in and smells all good, like bread. Seriously, it should be a cologne, right? Anyway, then he kissed me! And gave me flowers.” Rachel indicated the overflowing vase on the table. “And he cooked. Not just toast or an Eggo. An omelet!”
“Back to the kissing,” Maybe said. “We really don’t care about eggs.”
“He’s a really good kisser as you might have imagined. He tastes good. The beard is soft and smells nice. Self-assured. Confident. All signs point to really knowing his way around a lady’s best parts.”
Maybe clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes comically wide. Cora stomped her feet as she whooped and Rachel just shook her head at the two of them.
“And I’m pretty sure he was happy to see me, if you get my meaning, and I know you do because you are both women of loose morals.”
Cora wiped a sarcastic tear from the corner of her eye and then flipped Rachel off.
“So, was he like really happy to see you? Like big guns happy?” Maybe asked.
“Proves my point. Floozies, the two of you. I assume you’re inquiring about the size of his equipment?” Rachel asked, faux pearl-clutching.
“Of course we are. So? Is his dick big or will he try really hard to make up for it in other ways?” Maybe snickered.
“He won’t need to make up for anything. I mean, it was like laundry day or something because he felt like he had a few rolls of quarters in his pocket.”
The three of them dissolved into laughter for a little while.
“Anyway. Like I said, he’s a very good kisser. He’s got a great body. He’s smart and funny and I don’t know, it’s easy to be around him. He’s our carb connection and your boyfriend’s bestie so there’s that risk if things go south. But he makes me feel all this really wonderful stuff. You know?”
The pizza arrived so they filled their plates and settled in on the couch to continue the conversation.
“I do know and I’m in total support of it.” Maybe shrugged. “It’s good to see you taking this step. Letting yourself have some romance.”
“It’s not like I’ve been a nun since Brad and I broke up,” Rachel told her sister.
Cora said, “No. But that wasn’t romance. That was casual—but prudent—sex. You had these long-term fuck friends but none of that was about anything more than sex. Which was all you wanted and so yay for you because fuck pretending a lady doesn’t need some sex to clear out the cobwebs and be living our best lives and stuff.”
“You’ve always been happier in a relationship. Even back in high school,” Maybe said. “You just never had the right guy. Vic though? He’s another level. He’s the kind of person you deserve. Who’ll give you the energy and focus you deserve. And he’s a grown man. He doesn’t need saving or taking care of. If things don’t work out, it’s not going to be weird.”
Cora said, pointing at Maybe, “Yes to all that. He’s gorgeous. He clearly knows how to kiss and he’s got a big dick. This is all very good. He brings you flowers and bread. He’s definitely worth a second date. Now, not to be a buzzkill or anything, but what’s up with the situation with your parents? Maybe said you two are seeing someone about it?”
“We’re meeting with an attorney tomorrow,” Rachel said. “We’ll file for a protection order against Mom and Dad both. Keep them away from Ink Sisters and Whiskey Sharp as well as the house. He needs to have it underlined that we don’t want anything to do with him and that we won’t tolerate any more of this threatening crap.”
No one was going to cage her ever again.
* * *
WHICH IS WHAT she said to her attorney as she and Maybe sat in front of her the following day.
Sarah, their lawyer, nodded. “First let’s talk about the conservatorship. His chances are pretty dismal. You’re gainfully employed. You’re physically healthy and working on your mental health. We’ll get your therapists here and back east to file evaluations. I’ll do it up front so we can be ready when the requests for them come.
“At this point, given your stability, there’s no reason to assume you can’t handle the day-to-day decisions in your life. I know it’s easier said than done, but I want you to try and remain calm about this. I can handle most of it without either of you needing to be there. That’ll save a lot of time and he can’t use the system to force you to see him. Sometimes that’s enough. Once that avenue is closed, a lot of jerkoffs will lose interest.”
“I hate that he’s just doing this to try to control me and harass Maybe,” Rachel said.
“It’s not an unusual thing for an abuser to do. It’s a classic move.” Their attorney shrugged. “I don’t much like bullies so I’m going to have a delightful time thwarting him.” She put aside one folder and opened another. “As for the protection order, I don’t think you’ve got the grounds with your mother so I’d suggest holding off. With your father, we might be able to get some leverage with feeling threatened. He’s big, he’s come to your home uninvited. He’s threatening your independence. It’s enough we can at least get a temporary order. Some guys back off and don’t contest the order after the temporary expires after two weeks.”
“He’ll contest it. He’s very into authority. The court is an authority. If the court tells him not to do something he feels entitled to do, he’ll contest it because he won’t want a judge to feel he’s an abusive guy. And he’ll contest it because he won’t see himself as harassing anyone, merely being a good parent,” Rachel said.
Their attorney tapped her pen against the pad on her desk. “That could very well be. I just wanted you to go into the process understanding it and what your chances might be.”
They moved to outlining some next steps and an hour and a half later, she felt a little bit better about her future and her ability to protect it. She’d taken some of her lost control back, steadied herself with it and now she’d keep enjoying her life because she’d earned every day.
* * *
HE TRIED NOT to rush, but it was hard because now that he’d allowed himself to openly want her, it was like he couldn’t hold it back.
“Slow it down, dude,” Evie bitched at him. “You go showing up over there an hour early and she’s going to think you’re a creeper.”
“I have things to do before I go pick her up. It’s rush hour anyway and I don’t want to be late or have to hurry.”
Generally, he tended to be really mellow about most things. It took a lot to get him riled up. But he hated to be late. Probably because his family was always so big and had so many moving parts that they tended to have been late for everything.
But his mother had volunteered him—without even asking him first—to go with Evie down to Pike Place Market to pick up fruit for the bakery. And naturally his sister had wanted to stop at Beecher’s for cheese and then she’d hauled him across the street, pointing at the florist’s shop. “Give her flowers.”
“I was going to,” he muttered. But this place did have really nice bouquets, especially for the season.
“Where are you taking her?” she asked.
“Le Pichet,” he said, grabbing a huge bouquet full of color. The pick-me-up, especially as it had been a dark, wet and cold winter, would be a good thing. And it enabled him to spoil her more.
Evie nodded, clearly impressed with his choice. He had a feeling there was a hedonist inside Rachel and he wanted to lure her out. Good food, good wine, flowers, pastries, Vic wanted to fill her life with treats and delights of all kinds.
“Excellent choice, especially for an early date. She’s going to know you won’t be taking her to gross chain places where everything has a punny name.”
He withheld a curled lip because that was what she was trying to get from him. Little sisters.
Back at the bakery, his mother made him have a cup of tea with her as Evie packaged up the heart-shaped vatrushka he’d promised to bring Rachel the day before.
“I don’t need to tell you to be nice to her. You have wonderful manners,” his mother told him. “I don’t need to tell you anything because you’re a grown person, a man who is kind and will do the right things.”
She nearly always knew the exactly perfect thing to say. A lot of people—himself included—bitched about their mothers, but his was pretty wonderful. And supportive.
* * *
THE SHOP HUMMED with talking and the buzz of the tattoo machines as clients got their ink done. Rachel’s neck was a little sore as she’d spent several hours on a half sleeve, bent at an awkward angle to get the lines laid just right.
But the work had been really good and she was proud of it, so the sore neck was worth it. Finley, her boss, Cora’s big sister and the owner/operator of Ink Sisters, plopped down in Rachel’s chair.
“When is the hot Russian coming to get you?”
“In about twenty minutes. I really could have gone home and met him there.” She shook her head with one of those what can you do movements.
“Sure you could have. He knows that too. But he wanted to drive you. That’s nice. It’s not like he’s unaware that you can handle yourself and your commute. He wants to take care of you.”
He did. That’s really what it was. So sweet and sexy. “I bought a new sweater today. I’m so stupid.”
“Why? Because you want your tits to look nice on your date? Girl, stop. Of course you do. There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop looking for problems.”
True. She had enough as it was.
Finley continued, “He’s cute. He’s nice. He has good manners, a job, a house. And he likes you. For you. This is all good. And, by the way, you did amazing work today.”
“Yeah?” Rachel asked, grinning. She admired Finley’s talent so much, and that she’d been such a wonderful mentor and so supportive had been one of the major reasons she’d been able to make a real go at tattooing.
It hadn’t been easy. Rachel was good with paper and pen. Or pencils, chalk, paint, whatever. She was artistic. Not something she’d really pursued earlier in her life, but in this new chapter, it had been part and parcel of every day.
But paper wasn’t skin. And at first it’d been a challenge getting past the fact that she was permanently changing someone’s body and the cost of a mistake was huge. She hated making mistakes.
Finley had repeated that some artists took longer than others to hit their stride, but that once Rachel trusted herself to do ink, she’d be headed that way. Fear was holding her back from her real potential.
It had taken a while. Trust, especially of herself, hadn’t been easy. But once she’d taken the leap it had made all the difference. Trust in herself had unlocked something, had enabled Rachel to connect with the work she did on a whole new level.
“It’ll definitely go up on the wall with your other birds.” The best of the shop’s tattoos were placed on the wall in the small waiting area as examples of the kind of work they did. It would give her some extra attention, which meant more clients.
“Excellent,” Rachel said, not bothering to hide how proud she was. Pride in yourself when you did your best was a good thing. That was one of her mantras and one day she might actually believe it.
* * *
SHE MADE IT a point to be outside at the curb right at seven. Over the years, Rachel had taken note of how punctual he was. Generally amiable, he got agitated when everyone lagged or made him wait.
He pulled around the corner and frowned when he saw her. It didn’t stop him from double parking to let her in, though.
“I said I’d come in and get you,” he told her once they were headed home.
Though Rachel knew what he meant—that he wanted her to wait inside so he could come to the door—she couldn’t seem to stop herself from acting like she didn’t. Just to get a rise out of him. “You did come and get me. That’s how I came to be in your car at this very moment.”
“You should have waited for me to come in and get you,” he said in a grumbly tone.
“Well, that’s silly when I can just take a few steps out the front door so you don’t have to try to find a place to park. We’re not teenagers on a first date and you parked at the curb and honked your horn.”
“Sometimes I think you argue because it pleases you,” he said and it made her laugh.
“I think you’re too used to how easy your life is. You’re pretty and charming so everyone just gives you what you want. You don’t know what to do when anyone won’t go along.”
“If everyone did that, life would be better. It’s not too much to expect,” he told her, the laughter in his tone obvious.
That was the difference between his sort of bossy and what her parents were trying to do. It was why he was charming and they were being abusive.
Funny how she knew that and yet it still caught her up.
It puzzled her but she put it away as Vic pulled up at her place.
The lights were on inside so Maybe and Alexsei were already home. Rachel had thought it was nice to have her sister’s boyfriend around. Maybe had brightened even more since they’d become an item. She was more confident—if that was possible—and steadier. Love suited Maybe.
If for no other reason than the fact that he made Maybe happy, Rachel would have liked Alexsei. But he’d become an awful lot like a brother since he’d moved in. And it meant Vic was at their house a lot more too.
“I’ll be back to get you in half an hour. We have dinner reservations,” he told her before he drove the half block to his driveway.
“Okay then,” she muttered to herself as she let herself into the house.
Jesus, hot Russians everywhere. Alexsei stood in the kitchen with Maybe and one of the various cousins, Gregori, who was a fancy-pants megastar artist. His girlfriend, Wren, also an artist, sat at the table with a glass of wine.
They all greeted her with smiles and hellos when she moved through the room on her way to her side of the house. “Hi, all!” she said as she kept going. “Gotta run!”
Maybe was at her door two minutes later. “What are you going to wear?”
“Sweater, trousers, boots. It’s fucking freezing out there.” Rachel tossed off the layers of T-shirts and tanks and swapped out for the beautiful smoky gray cashmere sweater she’d splurged on after they’d left the attorney’s office earlier that day.
“But cute underwear, right? I mean what if something happens and you two want to throw off some clothes and you’re wearing something old and gross?” Maybe said as she dug through a nearby drawer.
“I don’t wear old and gross panties!”
“Okay, but you’ve got like, underpants to be viewed by the outside world and then those you save for your period.”
“I promise not to wear my period panties on my date, Maybe.”
Her sister tossed a hot-pink bra and panty set her way and then shook her head. “Never mind, not those. The color is too bright and you’ll be able to see through the sweater. Hmm.” Maybe pawed through her stuff some more before finding a similar set in an icy blue with a triumphant hoot.
Rachel knew her sister well enough to just put on the things she’d procured. The bra was one of those extra perky ones so it mounded up all that lady-flesh nicely at the neckline of the sweater.
“Go eat dinner with your boyfriend for god’s sake and stop pestering me,” Rachel said, batting Maybe away from her hair.
“Just let me get to the back. It’s sticking up.”
Finally she just let her sister fuss as she managed to reapply her lipstick after brushing her teeth.
“I want to know every detail,” Maybe said in a stage whisper as they heard the noise downstairs that indicated Vic had arrived.
“So everyone keeps telling me. This is dumb though. He’s your boyfriend’s BFF!”
“Shut up and go break off some of that. I’ll be waiting up and don’t argue because it won’t matter.” Maybe pushed her down the hall.
“Bossy bitch.”
“You got that right.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
VIC PULLED HER chair out and leaned in, taking a sniff at the back of her neck. “You smell like jasmine,” he said, joining her.
“It’s one of my favorite scents.”
His too, now.
“How was your day?” he asked her once they’d ordered and the wine had arrived. The small dining room was absolutely packed and he wondered if she’d be all right with that, but she didn’t seem to be having any difficulty.
He warred with himself over protecting her and leaving her alone and respecting however she wanted to handle herself. It was his nature to want to take care of people. He’d always been that way. But Rachel was a whole new problem. A whole new situation to try and figure out.
“It was weird. Saw an attorney. Then we went to the courthouse and got a temporary protection order for my father. We have to go back for a permanent one in two weeks after my dad gets served. That’ll be oodles of fun.”
He clinked his glass to hers. “You’re doing what you need to, to protect yourself. Not fun, but necessary.”
“It’s a huge waste of my time and it pisses me off.”
He sat back and took her in. “Okay then. Good.” He got the feeling she’d fight better and harder if she was pissed off. And what they’d done to her and Maybe was provocative and naturally she was upset.
“He’s a retired cop. He knows how to work the system. My attorney wanted me to be prepared. I hate that I have to be. Seth called to check in on me, which I thought was nice.”
“Once the Orlovs consider you family, you can’t escape us. Even fiancés and next-door neighbors,” he told her with a smile. “You think he’ll fight you on this.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. He’s used to being obeyed. When we lived on opposite sides of the country and I was doing what he expected me to everything was fine. For me anyway. He and my mother were abusing Maybe and I didn’t know how bad it was.”
She ran a hand through her hair, exposing the delicate shell of her ear, and a nearly insurmountable need to touch it with his mouth hit him square in the head.
Thank Christ the charcuterie showed up so he had something to do with his hands—and mouth—before he hauled her close enough to do it.
“I heard the whole thing. On Sunday with your father,” he clarified. Her father had shown up angry, ripe for a fight. He’d savagely ripped into his children, trying to pit one against the other so he could control his eldest. So that he could jettison the youngest. Richie Dolan was a poor excuse for a human being and a shit father. “You can’t blame yourself for that. We talked about this yesterday morning.”
“No. You said I didn’t have anything to apologize for when it came to you seeing how my dad acted. Not that I didn’t protect my baby sister.”
Shadows then in her gaze and he knew she’d remembered those three women who’d died in that basement chamber of horrors as she’d been waiting, wondering when her time to die would come.
“Can I admit something?” he asked. He had to lean close to be heard because the place was full of noisy, happy diners. It lent a sort of privacy that even a more empty restaurant couldn’t offer.
She turned, her face close enough that he could really see her eyes. The amber fringe of color around the pupil. “Yes,” she said.
“Sometimes I’m not entirely sure how to talk about certain things with you. Not because you’re fragile or because I pity you. But I don’t want to stumble into something that brings up bad memories. So I apologize in advance for the times when I’m going to put my foot in it.”
She swallowed and then nodded. “You didn’t. Stumble into something. It’s always with me. What happened. It’ll never completely go away and that’s how it is. So yes, I didn’t protect Maybe from my father and I didn’t protect those women Price killed before they found me. But they’re not the same thing anyway.”
She busied herself with food awhile as they drank wine and were just together, but silent.
“I think he will fight. I think he will try to pull strings. I think he will hurt Maybe to get to me. I think he underestimates me and how far I’ve come. And I think he overestimates how good he was at his job when he compares his skills to mine,” she said at last.
Vic nodded his head. This was good too. She wasn’t going to let this stop her from living the life she’d worked so hard for.
And it was really fucking hot when she got mad and a little violent.
“Yeah? You were a hot shit FBI agent looking all tough and sexy as you brought down the bad guys. Your sister has sung your praises more than once.”
“Maybe is good for my ego.” Rachel shrugged. “I was good at it. Better than he ever was. And that never occurred to me until this mess. I was just glad they were proud. I simply had no idea that to them pride was such a poisonous thing. But he wanted to put me and Maybe in enemy boxes and all he managed to do was put himself there instead.”
“Is there no going back? Nothing he could do to fix this?” Vic knew it was easy to be in his place and make judgments about what she should do. He thought Richie Dolan was bad for his daughters. Toxic. He’d done and said things that seemed impossible to get past. But sometimes families did.
“I don’t think so. I can forgive a lot. But what they did to Maybe? And what they’re trying to do to me now? Take away my freedom. Cage me? No. And that they don’t seem to understand why that’s a problem? I feel like they should know me better. But I guess I didn’t know them very well either. No. There might be a time when I could be in the same room and not want to punch his face, but I don’t think I’ll ever be happy to see him again. He broke something important and some things can’t be fixed.”
“Some people can’t be fixed. He’s an adult. A parent. He makes his own choices. No one can look at you now and think you’re not in control of your own life, Rachel.”
“I’m outraged, you know? Like, how dare he try to do this to me? He’s disrespecting me and my life. My friends. My sister and best friend. Their daughter!”
He rather liked seeing her this way. Not that she was experiencing emotional upset—but the passion in her tone, the way she held herself, spine straight—it was bold and exciting. Intriguing and sexy as fuck.
“And now they’re here on this date in this seriously wonderful little bistro. I apologize,” she told him.
“You apologize too much for things you don’t own.”
“You brought me flowers again. Daffodils and larkspur. And pastry shaped like a heart. You’re bringing your A game.”
That pleased him. That she teased and opened up a little bit, sharing a private part of herself, though he hadn’t failed to notice her changing the subject about always apologizing for things other people did.
“I don’t do anything halfway,” he said of his courtship game.
“So, today I dealt with that stuff with my parents. The attorney is going to handle all the response to this conservatorship stuff as well. Then I went back to work, but on my way stopped at that little clothing shop between my bus stop and Ink Sisters. There was a sale. Always a good thing. So I then went to work, where they’d just ordered lunch including a burrito for me. Also a good thing. Then it was super busy until I got off work and met you at the curb. And now I’m here with you.”
He took her hand, turning it to kiss her wrist before letting it go. “And now you’re here with me. Which is most definitely the best thing in my day.”
“I’ve told you all about my day. Tell me about yours.”
He watched the deliberate way she moved, the choices she made, how she combined and tried new things as they arrived at the table.
“Work. Stayed after we closed to help with cookie baking for this group my mom and aunts are all into at the church. They bake and then take the stuff to all the older people who are on their own. Visit with them a little, you know? She sent me and Evie over here to the market to pick up some fruit. Then made me bake for them and drink tea. They were heading out when I left to come get you.”
“Of course all those babushkas wanted you to cook for them and make tea. I mean, look at you. Anyway, it’s nice. Your whole brood are just really nice people. Except Rada. She’s a jackwagon.”
Vic nearly choked at the mention of Alexsei’s ex, who had been less than friendly to Maybe. “To be fair, she did give him a head’s up about your sister looking like she might need help.” Rada was complicated. As Evie’s best friend, she’d been part of their family a long time. She’d been worried Maybe would push her out of the family for good since she and Alexsei had already been broken up for nearly a year.
“I didn’t say she was an evil master villain. But she’s not nice. I’m not nice either, it’s how some of us are.”
He thought about that for a bit. “I think you’re nice.”
“I do nice things sometimes. But I’m not nice. It’s not an insult. It’s just a personality type.”
“Huh. Okay, I’m going to ruminate over that awhile because I’m not sure if I agree or disagree. Were you... Never mind.”
“What? Was I nice before?” she asked the question he hadn’t known if he had the right to.
“Yes.”
“I think I did all the things I was expected to. I helped people in trouble in my job. I had a fiancé who had a very good job and very nice teeth.”
“Always important,” he said to make her snicker.
“Anyway, it was a good life. I don’t want to make it seem like before I was taken I hated my situation. It was a life I was happy in. And then something happened and turned it all upside down. A lot of things weren’t strong enough to survive the carnage. But some of those, like the fiancé, weren’t quite what I believed they were from the start.
“And after I’d come through it all, after everything insubstantial had burned away, I started a different life. And I wasn’t nice anymore.”
He ate as he got himself back together. She unraveled him. Not something he was entirely comfortable with.
“Okay. I can see that.” Though he thought she was pretty damned nice, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her what she felt and who she was. “What are you doing this weekend? I’ve got both days off and I was thinking of a hike up at Tiger Mountain. It’ll be cold, but clear. Have you hiked it?”
“No, but it’s on my list.”
“It’s not super strenuous, but a good workout. I promise to take it easy on you.”
She snorted. “How do you know you won’t need it the other way around?”
“Who says I want you to take it easy? Maybe I like it hard.”
He hadn’t meant to say it. Or maybe he did but he hadn’t meant it to sound so very suggestive.
But she wasn’t offended. Not at all, unless he was misreading the way her eyelids went half-mast.
“Perhaps I like it hard too.”
Holy shit. What the hell was he supposed to do with that image? Except think about how to make it reality.
“I think we need hot chocolate. And a fire,” he said around a suddenly thick tongue. “I even have the supplies to make whipped cream for it. I’ll walk you home afterward.”
* * *
SHE SHOULD HAVE said no but she didn’t.
Instead, he tucked her up on his couch and made them both hot chocolate with fresh whipped cream while she basked in the heat of the fire and watched him.
His house was the same sort of tri-level ranch house their neighborhood was dotted with, but with a modern touch. Dark wood floors with burnished steel. The overstuffed couch she was on was plush and deep green with nail head accents.
It was a decidedly chic, adult space. Classic. Sophisticated. He was way more than she’d expected. Her mistake really, she should have paid better attention. But naturally she got caught up in that face of his.
She was only human, after all.
“So tell me about your favorite tattoo lately,” he said as he joined her.
“That I’ve given?”
He nodded.
“I’m still giving it. A half sleeve. It’s a cardinal. Full color.” She indicated the way the bird lay around the curve and muscle of the upper arm. “Wings open. There’s a lot of fine line work with the feathers.”
“What about it makes you so proud of it?”
She thought awhile about the exact words to use. “It takes a steady hand. It’s scary at first when you’re inking someone. This is a big piece. A mistake is forever. I was nervous but since I just jumped and did it, it’s turning out really awesome.”
“You’re a risk taker.”
“Not so much anymore.”
“Making art is taking risk. You create something and throw it out there to rise or fall. That takes guts. And tattooing is forever. Well, there’s cover-ups and removal but you know what I mean.”
“I do.” She hadn’t thought of it like that but he was sort of right. “You’ve got the heart of a poet.”
“Evie says the same. I can’t see it.”
Without thinking about it, she reached out and pulled his hair free to tumble down. “You even have the hair and the face of a fallen angel.” It had been intended to tease but damn it if it wasn’t true.
“I tell myself I’m going to keep it slow and easy and then you go and say things like that. So delicious, right here under my nose for three years. You’d think after three years I’d have more chill, but I don’t.”
She drew a shaky breath. “I really shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be telling you all this stuff and thinking about how you kiss. There’s something about you, Vic. I say things I don’t intend to. I want things I shouldn’t. It scares the hell out of me.”
It was only the second date, but it was way deeper than that. They’d been developing a relationship for years and it seemed like now that they’d finally stepped into this new romantic thing between them, the intimacy had sharpened.
After years of living a very pared-down life, focused on herself and surviving, it was tender, nearly raw to let someone as close to her as she found herself doing with Vic.
“I’m not that person. I make good choices. I’m responsible. I pay my bills on time and I turn the water off when I’m brushing my teeth,” she told him.
He put his mug down, taking hers as well before turning back to her and enfolding her hands with his own.
“Are you suggesting I’m a bad choice?” he asked, teasing.
“Do these pants make my butt look big?”
He leaned closer, touching his lips to her cheek quickly. “You have an amazing butt and anything you wear makes it look great.”
“You’re not a bad choice.” Especially when he said stuff like that. “I’m just being weird. I did warn you. Let’s make out.”
His smirk told her he knew she was changing the subject and also that he was down with a lot of kissing.
He pulled her closer and then into his arms, crosswise over his lap. She squirmed just enough to get a lay of the land, so to speak.
Well now. There was some big country going on.
With a growl, he cupped her jaw, turning her to angle her mouth just how he wanted it. Their first kisses the day before had been sweet and sexy. But this...this was an utter devastation.
He nipped and nibbled, licked and sucked every part of her mouth until she was a warm puddle of purring woman, arms around his neck to keep from drowning in him.
He branded himself all over her. The heat of his hands—one splayed on her thigh, the other at her hip—seared. His taste burned itself into her memory so deep she knew she’d never forget.
A sexual fire within her burst into life, sending sparks of need through her as she urged him closer.
Yes. Fuck yes. More. More. More. She shifted her hold, fingers digging into his shoulders, holding him to her.
He hummed, as if she were delicious. “Gonna take a while to get down to the center of you,” he said against her lips.
She might have come just hearing those words.
Against her ass, his cock was hard and ready and big. All the protestations that she wasn’t a size queen flew out the window in the face of the very large penis that came along with this very hot Russian.
“I’m not going anywhere, so feel free to be thorough.”
He laughed, setting her back on the couch beside him. “I plan to spend a great deal of time on you, Rachel Dolan, with your wary eyes and that mouth that makes me weep.”
“I don’t want to make you weep,” she said, her lips quirking up into a smile. “Well, maybe I’d like to make you beg.”
He leaned in and stole a kiss that left her mouth swollen and tingly. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. I’m going to walk you home now.”
“Wait. What?” She looked at the clock, noticing it was already after eleven thirty. He had to get up early and she’d gotten all caught up in her hormones. “Later than I thought.”
He pushed his hair away from his face. “It’s not that. The occasional night where I don’t get at least six hours is fine. You’re worth it and I can always nap after work. I just want to take some time. I want you to crave me the way I crave you. And when we finally end up in bed—and we both know we will—it’s going to be mind-blowing. I like this stage. Full of anticipation. Discovery. I know your favorite color, but I didn’t know you’d like heart shaped pastry.”
“Who doesn’t like pastry in any shape? What are they? Monsters?”
“I like to sip and savor.” He stood and held a hand out. “You’re complex and layered, I’m going to enjoy you.”
She allowed him to pull her to her feet and then he helped her into her coat, again pausing on the porch to zip her up.
“I liked our second date,” she told him as they walked up her front steps.
“I did too. I think the third will be awesome as well.”
“I have high hopes,” she told him, deadpan.
Once they’d gotten inside it was to find Maybe and Alexsei were sprawled on the couch, all snuggled up and looking adorable.
“You get points for walking her in,” Maybe told Vic.
He bowed to her and then turned back to Rachel. “I’m sure I’ll see you before Saturday.”
“Chances are, yes.”
He bent and kissed her right there in her house and even though they’d just kissed for like forty-five minutes, it got her all starry-eyed again.
He and Alexsei blabbered on about something or other before he headed out and she pretended not to watch his progress from her bedroom window. Which worked until he turned, looked right up at her bedroom window and waved.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
MAYBE SHOWED UP before Rachel had even finished taking off her makeup.
“No, we didn’t have sex. Yes, we kissed. A lot. Like, he’s a tasting menu of kissing and it’s mind-blowing. I think I might combust when we finally fuck.”
Maybe closed her mouth and just watched Rachel finish up before following her out to the bedroom.
Finally her sister broke with an excited little dance. “So this is really good and I’m trying hard not to show just how excited I am so as not to spook you but I need details.”
After she got changed into warm pajamas, she and her sister got under the blankets. “It was a nice date. He took me to that little French bistro at Pike Place. He asked me questions about who I was as a person, as an artist.” She fell silent for a bit. “Perhaps that’s why I react to him so strongly.”
“That or the fact that you’ve known him for a few years and over the last six months especially you two have been circling one another slowly. That’s like foreplay.”
“He just clicks all my buttons. It feels like a lot. And the old Rachel would have been suspicious of it and avoided him until it went away.”
“As I happen to be feeling pretty intensely about Alexsei right now I can relate. It’s a loss of control to be that into someone. To be feeling all those chemicals bubbling around. The attraction, the sense that this person is unlike anyone else you’ve come across.”
It did feel a little like the way she did just after riding a roller coaster.
“And,” Maybe continued, “you’re not that Rachel anymore. So there’s a thing. An important thing. And it’s not like you’ve been choosing one terrible dude after the next. You just haven’t really been choosing at all. Past the scratching that itch stage.”
“It’s intense.”
“Totally.” Maybe rested her head on Rachel’s shoulder a little while. “Tell me the rest.”
“We had dinner. He’s a door opener and a chair puller outer. You know? He’s gentlemanly without being controlling. Bossy and used to getting his way probably through charm alone. And, Maybe, his face! How the hell can I resist? Which is rhetorical because I’m not resisting. I haven’t made out with a dude in a long time. Probably since college. It’s a simple pleasure. I could do it every day, much like eating bread and drinking coffee. Funny how he’s related to two of those things. I just...when I’m with him I don’t feel broken.”
Or maybe that the way she was broken was okay. And beautiful.
“We’re going on a hike this weekend.”
Maybe turned to give Rachel a face. “Ew. Well, you two kids have fun while I won’t be hiking. Or outside in the cold when I don’t have to be. Weirdo.”
“It’s nice to be able to go on a hike. It’s been a while.” She loved hiking but after the kidnapping it had taken her two years before she’d drummed up the courage to go into the woods again.
“You do look super cute in your hiking gear. Wear those spandex pants that make you look like you’re training to be in the next dystopian action movie I can’t wait to watch.”
Rachel laughed even as she knew the exact pair of pants her sister meant and put them into a contender spot. They were great in wet weather, kept her warm and made her butt look fantastic.
“I have heart-shaped vatrushka with strawberry. I was going to have a cup of tea. I’ll share with you and your wild bearded Russian.”
“Score. He brought gelato home and I think it should go with all that.”
“He’s a super useful new roommate. I’m just going to get that out there,” Rachel said.
“I agree. He’s even more useful to me. And I mean that in a totally sexual way,” Maybe told her as they got out of her bed.
“I figured that out.”
“Just wanted to be sure you understood.”
Rachel flipped her off.
* * *
FRIDAY EVENING WHEN she and Maybe walked up the street from the bus stop, Irena came out to the front porch and called to them.
“Come have tea. I made golubtsi, you can have some too.”
“We’ll be over after we drop our things off,” Rachel told her as they hurried up to their front door.
“Looks like a full house over there. I can’t believe Alexsei didn’t mention that.” Maybe dumped her backpack into the closet. “I need to change. I’ll meet you back here ASAP.”
Naturally, she freshened up and brushed her teeth. If Vic was there, she might kiss him. But she did it quickly because neither Dolan sister wanted to make Irena wait.
“Come over for tea,” Maybe muttered as they approached the front door. “There’s a full-on family dinner situation going on in there.”
Rachel really liked the big family events at the Orlovs’. Loved not just the volume of food, but the people, the easy back-and-forth between them as they teased, lectured and shared news.
Sometimes it got heated—well, often—but it wasn’t mean. Lots of passion. Rachel hadn’t known how to handle it at first. They’d grown up with quiet judgment from their mother and reprimand from one source only, their father.
Vic opened up, smiling at them both as he stepped back to admit them. “Come through. She’s already making you plates.”
He gave her a hug and brushed his lips over hers. A kiss that told everyone in the house they were together. A kiss Rachel knew the rest of the family was okay with as no one stopped what they were doing, though they all noticed.
Pavel shouted a hello before enveloping Maybe in a big hug and then, surprising Rachel, he gave her one too. Though not as ebullient as Maybe’s, which made her choke up a little. He knew enough to want her to know he was happy to see her but also knew she needed to be approached gently.
And then Vic was there, drawing her away toward the big dining room table where, as he’d noted, his mother had set out overflowing plates she described as “a little bite.”
Rachel wasted no time tucking in. She’d last eaten hours ago and the food smelled as good as it tasted. This was comfort food at its most perfect. Warm and hearty. The sauce on the golubtsi was spicy rather than sweet. Nestled up against that were the potatoes that padded the carbs until all her cells relaxed with a sigh.
She must have made the sigh audible because when she snapped from her food fugue, she noted Irena giving a satisfied nod. Vic draped an arm over the back of her chair, leaning back so he could continue flirting with his aunt Klara.
Klara gave his arm a blatant look and then tipped her chin. He grinned like he had a secret, unrepentant.
Before Rachel had kissed him that first time, she’d been able to appreciate his charms but keep a distance between them. Now it was like her attraction to him—her awareness of him—was at ten.
He was fucking adorable. Irresistible. God help her.
Irena sat across from them at the table with a tired sigh. “Get the girl some tea, Vityunya.”
He kissed the top of her head as he stood and went off to do his mother’s bidding.
“This is all so good,” she told Irena as she made the superhuman effort not to stare at Vic’s butt while he puttered around in the kitchen.
Vic’s mother attempted a casual shrug but there was pleasure on her face at the compliment. Irena loved taking care of her family and friends. She baked you something if you were happy or sad. She made soup or dumplings if you were sick. A cluck or a tsk. A hug, a congratulations, a stern talking-to. A whole emotional language through food.
“Until we moved next door I’d never had cabbage rolls. I had no idea what I’d been missing,” Rachel said. Their mother had been a good cook, but for her, food had been a means to an end. Fuel and nutrients.
One of the reasons Rachel had been active from an early age was her mother’s constant focus on weight and clothing size. It had been Rachel’s way to control food and her body.
Still, she liked food and while she knew she tended toward obsession when it came to exercising and physical strength, she felt like she had a better handle on it than she ever had, even before the kidnapping.
Irena frowned and then pushed some bread and butter her way. “I will teach you. It’s easy.”
Rachel somehow doubted it was what she’d consider easy, but she liked knowing things. Liked learning and mastering things. And she liked being in Irena’s kitchen, in the heart of the house. Liked being part of what the Orlovs had built.
“I’d love that. I’m always happy to learn whatever you’re willing to teach me.”
“If she learns them then she can make them at our place,” Maybe said.
“Or you could make them for the rest of us. I’ll pay for groceries,” Rachel said before she thanked Vic for the mug of much-needed tea he brought her.
“I know you like the kind without caffeine so I bought some,” Irena told her.
“Better sleep at night without it so late in the day,” Vic said, as if to remind her he hadn’t forgotten about her sleep problems.
When Vic and his mother doted on her and did nice things, it made her extra blushy and a little shy. Sometimes she wondered what they saw in her that made them like her so much.
Evie joined them. “You’re here. Let’s talk about the tattoo I want.”
Panicked, Rachel looked to Irena and then Pavel. Evie’s parents frowned, but they didn’t say anything.
Vic snorted. “She’s a big girl. If she wants ink, they’re not going to stop her.”
“Not when you have it and they didn’t stop you,” Evie told him.
Irena chuckled as she waved a hand. “Don’t worry, Rachel, we don’t hold it against you.”
“I do. But you’re too sweet to stay mad at,” Pavel said.
That cracked her up. Vic’s dad was hilarious and nearly as adorable as his son. The noise level rose, but it was pleasant instead of annoying.
“Since your specialty is bird tattoos, I’ve been thinking about a firebird. The mythological kind. Which isn’t real of course, but it’s a bird,” Evie said.
“Why a firebird?” The answer would guide the design.
“When I was little, my mom would read us fairy tales from this beautiful old book she brought with her from Russia.”
“Color?”
Evie nodded.
Orange and yellow. Rachel could see the design in her head already. Placement would be key.
“Where?”
“I’ll leave that up to you. I have another small tattoo on my calf already. But. I want it big and bold.”
Irena said a long stream of something in Russian at that. Evie was an adult and if she wanted to get a head-to-toe tattoo it was her business. But that was between her and her parents, and as a child’s girlfriend, Rachel had no place in the discussion.
Finally they stopped sniping and Irena rolled her eyes, sitting ramrod straight. She’d said her piece and it was over.
Evie looked back to Rachel with an expectant smile.
“Call the shop and tell them to set you up with the appointment. I’ll work up a few sketches so you can look them over first.”
Evie clapped her hands, clearly excited, and it was impossible not to get caught up in it.
Vic’s sister wanted a tattoo from her. She mentioned other ink on her calf so she already had a tattoo artist she knew of. But the design she wanted meant something to her, which meant something to Rachel.
It also made it easier for Rachel to create an image meant for Evie and Evie alone. There would be other firebirds, but only one like what she’d put on Evie.
Every piece Rachel did was unique. Little details that no one else would have. It was just a little thing she did. And now she’d do one for Vic’s sister.
Stuffed and feeling rather warm and loose, Rachel sat back and rubbed her stomach. “That was so good. Thank you for inviting us to dinner.”
“A full house makes her happy,” Vic said.
“It does until a quiet house makes me happy,” Irena replied and Rachel could totally relate.
“Let me clean up,” Rachel said, standing and beginning to gather plates.
Irena made a dismissive sound. “You can help.”
Maybe joined them in the kitchen as they put away the food and then began the process of tackling the dishes. Vic came in to ferry whatever food that hadn’t fit in the fridge to the one in the garage.
It didn’t take very long and, in the meantime, the cards had come out, along with a chessboard, and Evie’s best friend—and Alexsei’s ex-fiancée—had shown up.
Maybe rolled her eyes, but only when no one could see her face except Rachel. Rada and Maybe had achieved a truce and were fine being civil with one another but Rachel knew her sister still thought the other woman was an asshole.
Vic grabbed her by the waist to waylay her, drawing her close. “It makes my mother happy to teach you things,” he murmured in her ear.
“It makes me happy to learn things and eat what she cooks.” She tried to get a little space, knowing they were being watched. “Really, I like your family.”
“That’s good. Since they’re part of the package.”
It was a pretty spectacular package, all teasing aside.
“Come play cards,” his father called out from the dining room.
“Aren’t you tired?” she asked Vic quietly.
“In a good way. If you want to go home, no one will be offended. But I’d like it if you stayed. They would too.”
A warm wave flowed over her. She knew the look on her face was goofy but it couldn’t be helped. She was happy.
“I’m a night owl. You’re the one who gets up at four every day.”
She’d be worth a tired day. “Not tomorrow though. I get to sleep in.” He wasn’t going to beg, but certainly a cajole would be fine.
Especially when it made her features soften and get a little more tender. He was a sucker for her soft side. Wanted to coax it out. And when she was kind to his family, laughing and playing with them, it was like nothing he’d ever experienced.
“All right. But don’t expect me to take it easy on you tomorrow on our hike.”
“I’d never expect anything less. Now go lose some money to my father and I’ll get you some tea and me some vodka.”
CHAPTER SIX (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
HE KEPT AN eye on her—and her ass—as she climbed the trail ahead of him. Her hair pulled into two short little pigtails, sleek gear clinging to her figure. A strong, fit figure.
Out here she tended to move with measured confidence. He found it sexy that she knew what she was doing. Her strength and skill made it possible to enjoy the hike the way he did when he was out with his buddies in his hiking crew.
She didn’t need taking care of. Didn’t want it certainly. Out here she was in her element as much as he was. Another sexy thing.
It was cold but mostly clear, though he got the feeling she’d have been okay in the rain too. And when they got to the top of the trail where they’d be turning to head back, she pulled out a thermos. “Want some coffee?”
He sat on a log and patted the space next to him. “I do. I propose to trade cookies in exchange.”
“You’re handy to have around, Orlov.”
He pulled the cookies out while she poured them both a cup of coffee.
“Did you make these?” She indicated the cookie she nibbled on.
“Fresh yesterday morning. I set some by for this hike. I know your secret.”
She turned, a question on her face.
“You have a sweet tooth. Just know I’ll happily seduce you with whatever tools I have in my arsenal.”
Laughing, she stole another cookie from the bag on his lap.
“Have you loved baking since forever? I imagine growing up in the family business it’s easier that way. Were they bakers back in Russia?”
“My mother was a nursery school teacher. My dad worked in a factory. They came here in the early ’80s and they started the bakery on little more than a hope and a prayer and a Russian community here in Seattle hungry for a taste of home. We grew up in the bakery, but I didn’t always want to run the business.”
Life sometimes just happened to you. She’d know that better than most.
“So, what happened, if you don’t mind saying?” she asked.
“At one time I had planned to be a cop.”
One of her brows went up. “And yet you make the best bread I’ve ever eaten in my life. You have a lot of talents, Vic.”
He laughed. “That’s how I know Seth. I’ve been volunteer search and rescue for the county. My team and I were helping some King County Sheriff’s officers find a kid who’d run away from a campsite. There was some Seattle PD crossover and he was there to help when we brought the boy back. Cristian came by with Alexsei and they met.”
“Aw, I love that story. What changed it? I mean from sheriff wannabe to baker? Family expectations?”
He took a deep breath. “You know we had an older brother who died. Danil. We don’t often talk about the how. Anyway, he was supposed to take over for our parents. So I worked there part-time but mainly stepped out of his way. But he was troubled. Sick. Addicted. As he began to fray, it got more and more obvious I’d have to step in full-time.”
The pain of the memories rolled through him. Held back a little by the distance of time.
She took his hand. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”
It wasn’t his shame. But it sure was his pain.
“He robbed a store. For drug money. And got caught. He went to jail. Which was good in that he got clean. But then he was released and he wasn’t clean. Not really.”
She put her head on his shoulder.
“He overdosed before trial. My parents...they fell apart. They were ashamed and felt guilty and responsible. My aunt did all she could. People worked overtime to shoulder the load, but it was necessary for me to commit to running the bakery full-time. Danil was supposed to do it. It was supposed to be his place. But I’m doing it.”
“I’m sorry. What a tragic situation.”
He sighed. “When we were kids he was my protector. Always the life of the party. I guess that should have been a clue. He just didn’t know when to stop. And it killed him and nearly destroyed the family.”
But in the end, it had given Vic a future he’d never imagined. And he’d been part of keeping the family together. He’d learned a lot about himself. About what family truly meant.
“Your parents aren’t the only ones with survivor’s guilt.” A statement.
Vic looked at her carefully. It was cold enough that their breath misted around their faces. The scent of the coffee mixed with the pungent evergreens still lush even in winter.
“That sounds like you might know a thing or two about it,” he said.
It wasn’t that she never spoke of her experience. He knew the basics. But it never went very deep. He never pressed and she never offered. Until then.
“I know what it means to understand one thing and occasionally feel another. I know what it feels like to second-guess every choice. And what it feels like to know some of those choices were bad ones. Did you go to therapy at all?”
“The whole family did a few sessions. Evie had a lot of trouble in school for a while. It happened during her senior year of high school. My parents are very skeptical of therapy in general, but they did agree to attend a few sessions. I wish they’d done more, but they were so reluctant and after a while it turned into a fight every time. And you know, I’d had enough fighting with them. I just wanted them to be happy and be able to get past his death.”
Rachel nodded. “I understand.”
He got the feeling she really did. And something inside him that had been knotted loosened just a little.
“I’m glad, by the way, that I made the choices I did. I enjoy the bakery. I love that it’s a family business and that despite the bickering, we’re all working toward the same goal. I love to see my aunt and my cousins pretty much daily.”
“And it means you bring bread to me. Which is always a plus as far as I’m concerned. And if I fall into a crevasse you can save me.”
He laughed, standing to brush off his butt and begin to put away their impromptu snack. “I will always save you from a crevasse. Not that there are any close. But if we climb Rainier or something, I’ve got you covered.”
She got her pack secured and gave him a face. “That was just talk. I don’t go near crevasses. I love hiking and biking and kayaking and that sort of thing. I don’t go ice camping or do any sort of extreme climbing.”
“I’m sure you’d be really good at it, though.”
“Maybe. But I’ve done enough time in hospitals so I try to avoid more.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m on board with that.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share that story. I’m sorry for all of you. But I’m glad you all had one another to get through,” she said.
“I learned a lot about who I was and who I could be if I tried harder,” he said as he took her hand.
They walked side by side for a while until the trail narrowed and they had to move single file.
“Valentine’s Day is coming up.”
She gave him a glance over her shoulder as she hiked in front of him. “I don’t have any expectations. I mean. This is new and—”
He interrupted her. “This is not new. I’ve known you for years. Alexsei and I were thinking of making you and Maybe a dinner at your house. With chocolate cake for dessert. The recipe is a closely guarded secret and I only break it out for the people who matter most to me.”
Now that she’d let him close he had no intention of sliding back into anything less than true honesty between them. Skittish was fine. Aloof wasn’t.
They made their way back to the parking lot, not talking. But he knew it wasn’t that she was ignoring him, but thinking of a response.
He enjoyed the birdsong until she stopped, turning to face him. “I love chocolate cake. And I love it when people make me food. You have excellent forearms and I like to look at them and your butt when you’re in a kitchen. I’m fairly sure I’d like to watch you bake.”
Her words spilled out, tumbling one after the next and he caught each one.
“You should feel free to come by the bakery when I’m working and I’ll set you up in the corner with a cup of tea and something sweet while you watch me knead dough.”
“Don’t joke. I think I just had an orgasm at that visual.”
He paused at the revelation of another layer of this woman. Then he grinned. “It’s not a joke. Especially after that comment. I’m there pretty much every day we’re open. Otherwise, should you need an orgasm, I’m happy to deliver that as well as dinner.”
She pinkened and he ducked to kiss her.
People came up the trail so they moved to the side as they started back down once more.
* * *
RACHEL WATCHED THE scenery whiz by as he drove. Ideas came often enough that she had her notepad out and began working on a new idea, not realizing how close they were to home until he stopped at a stop sign just three blocks away.
“Would you like to come over?” she asked him.
“Yes. I’ll shower and come over after.”
As her bathroom had a pretty small shower, one that would challenge the width of his shoulders she was sure, she didn’t invite him to share hers.
He dropped her off and waited until she’d unlocked all three locks on the front door and went inside. Where she relocked everything, reset the alarm and toed off her shoes, tucking them into the hall closet before padding into the kitchen, where Alexsei stood at the sink.
Maybe was cleaning up what appeared to be an exploding blender.
“So I thought, how hard could it be to make smoothies? This is why I don’t cook,” Maybe said when she caught sight of Rachel.
“I suggested moderation in the total volume of fruit in the blender,” Alexsei said, making Rachel laugh.
“Maybe thinks moderation is for suckers,” she told him.
“Only when it’s about food. And sex. And sleep,” Maybe added.
“Atta girl. Vic is coming over in a bit so I’m going to clean up from our hike and be back down.”
Of course, Maybe was sitting on her bed after her shower.
“You’re in ambush mode all the time now,” Rachel said as she got changed. “One would think you’d have less time to stalk me like a jungle cat when you have a hot dude in your bed to take to bone town.”
“He sleeps with me. Believe me when I tell you I have a frequent flier card for trips to bone town. Speaking of bone town, I note the very sexy matching underwear you’ve got going on. I like to see you all giddy and sexy and stuff.” Maybe picked up a candle on the nightstand, sniffed it and put it back.
“Did Alexsei tell you about Valentine’s Day?” Rachel asked her.
“He did. It’ll be my first Valentine’s Day with like a for-real boyfriend. I know this is old hat for you but as such things go, it’s pretty cool so far. Except I don’t really know what to get him. What are you going to get Vic?”
“Jesus, Maybe! Now I’m going to be all nervous about it. I have no idea.”
“Well fuck. You’re the expert. What did you get Brad? You lived with him. He was all serious business until he put his penis in someone else while you were in a coma and all.”
Rachel snickered. Leave it to her sister to know just what to say to make her laugh. “Well see, that’s why you shouldn’t ask me for my opinion.”
“I highly doubt he cheated on you because you got him what? A watch or something?”
“I’m sure he’d say so.” Her ex was a total dick. A cheating dick who’d stolen money from their joint account while she was in that coma Maybe had just mentioned. “As for presents, I got him a cashmere sweater once. A watch, but a really nice one he wanted and wasn’t going to shut up about until he got it. And the last one I got him a Coach duffel. All very good gifts. All things he wanted. But I don’t think I’ll give Vic any of those things.”
“Why? He’d look gorgeous in a cashmere sweater.”
“He totally would. But I don’t think those presents would be for Valentine’s Day. I don’t know. It just feels like he’d appreciate a gift that meant something to him.” He struck her that way. Sentimental but not in a negative sense. “I’m going to look around and when I see the right thing it’ll jump out at me. I hope. It’s not like I can bake him something.”
Maybe nodded. “Not that you should complain because that means he will bake for you. And by extension, me. But you did give me good advice just now. I’ve been looking for the right present but I haven’t found it yet. I should be patient.”
“You got him that antique shaving set for Christmas and he loved that. You’re doing fine.”
“Look at us, panicking about Valentine’s Day like adults.” Maybe linked her arm with Rachel’s before heading back downstairs where the commotion signaled Vic’s arrival.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
“SO,” SHE SAID quietly to Vic as the rest of the house played a round of Guitar Hero.
He turned and pulled her a little closer. “So?”
“You want a tour? Like to see my room?”
“Hell yes.”
She waved discreetly at Maybe who waggled her brows, and then led the way to her side of the house, where her bedroom was.
Once inside, he took a deep breath and then smiled. “I’ve been wondering just what your bedroom would smell like. Jasmine. Like your perfume.”
No other men had been up there. She did her fucking in other people’s houses, or in hotels. This was her space. Her intimate place she made and kept safe. Here she could truly let down her guard and be open.
Vic wasn’t anyone else, though, and she most certainly wanted him all to herself. Wanted him all over her sheets.
He waited for her to set the boundaries. Kept an eye on her and took his cues from that.
There was something comforting and yet sweet about how he was with her. Totally focused on her. Absolutely clear that he wanted more. But he didn’t rush into her space. Not that he wasn’t dominant and charming and didn’t still manage to get his way with that roguish thing he had going on. But he just let her lead in these moments.
Which was perfect.
“You should fuck me,” she said.
“Should I?” He closed the door at his back, leaning against it as he watched her with that smirk.
“Or, I can fuck you. Either way.” She shrugged.
“Hmm. Why don’t we take this step-by-step?”
She whipped off her sweater.
“Or, you could take your shirt off and show me just how fucking gorgeous you are without it. In fact, I’m thinking that’s the better choice,” he murmured.
“Now you,” she said, turning out the overhead lights in favor of her bedside lamp.
She lit some candles while not taking her gaze from him. Not wanting to miss the reveal she was sure was going to be really fantastic.
And when he pulled his shirt up and off, she knew she’d been right. He was beautiful.
“Your body is amazing. I want to lick you,” she murmured as she walked his way.
“I’m available for licking by you at any time. In fact it’s been a recurring fantasy of mine for years.”
He reached out, brushing his fingertips over the curve of her breast where it heaved from the bra she had on. And she was so glad she chose the sexy cute matching stuff instead of her comfy granny panties.
He told her in a voice rough like a caress, “For so long you were right here. So close. I saw you all the time and I had no ability to touch you this way. No ability to make all those fantasies of mine a reality.” He circled her, looking his fill until he stopped behind her. “Oh, your back. Hold still, I want to pet and look.”
He did exactly that. Slowly stroking his hands over her skin until she was all relaxed and tingly.
“This is beautiful.”
“It’s the first tattoo I got.”
From shoulder to shoulder, across her back, a branch with a birdcage hanging from it in gray-and-black dot work. The door open. The bird was on the branch and not in the cage.
Never again with the cage.
“Tell me,” he murmured before kissing the back of her neck.
Not only had it been her first tattoo, it had been her first tattoo design, one of her first drawings in therapy, and that theme had become a central concept in her life.
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Lauren Dane
The sweetest reward comes after the longest wait.Vicktor Orlov took one look at one look at the wary gaze and slow to trust personality of the deliciously sexy and fascinating Rachel Dolan and knew he wanted more than just a casual friendship. But as a natural protector, he also knew bossiness and overprotective maneuvering would push her away. He’ll use every tool in his easygoing, laidback arsenal to convince her to take a chance on them.Rachel’s flourishing new career as a tattoo artist has brought color back into a life previously damaged by violence. She knows she can trust Vic, it’s herself she’s not sure of. She doesn’t want to be caged or controlled, protected so much she had no ability to make her own choices. And damn if the man doesn’t know it.When Vic finally drops all pretenses of “just friends” and focuses all his careful affection and irresistible seduction on her, Rachel knows she’s falling hard for the laid back pretty boy Russian she’d discovered had a relentlessly steel spine when it came to her.And she can’t resist.
The sweetest reward comes after the longest wait
Vicktor Orlov took one look at the wary gaze and slow-to-trust personality of the deliciously sexy and fascinating Rachel Dolan and knew he wanted more than just a casual friendship. But as a natural protector, he also knew bossiness and overprotective maneuvering would push her away. He’ll use every tool in his easygoing arsenal to convince her to take a chance on them.
Rachel’s flourishing new career as a tattoo artist has brought color back into a life previously damaged by violence. She knows she can trust Vic—it’s herself she’s not sure of. She doesn’t want to be caged or controlled, protected so much she has no ability to make her own choices. And damn if the man doesn’t know it.
When Vic finally drops all pretenses of “just friends” and focuses all his careful affection and irresistible seduction on her, Rachel knows she’s falling hard for the laid-back pretty-boy Russian she’s discovered has a relentlessly steel spine when it comes to her.
And she can’t resist.
Also By Lauren Dane (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
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Broken Open
Back to You
Whiskey Sharp: Unraveled
Whiskey Sharp: Jagged
Whiskey Sharp: Torn
Also available from Lauren Dane and Carina Press
Second Chances
Believe
Goddess with a Blade series
Goddess with a Blade
Blade to the Keep
Blade on the Hunt
At Blade’s Edge
Diablo Lake series
Diablo Lake: Moonstruck
Diablo Lake: Protected
Cascadia Wolves series
Reluctant Mate
Pack Enforcer
Wolves’ Triad
Wolf Unbound
Alpha’s Challenge
Bonded Pair
Twice Bitten
de La Vega Cats series
Trinity
Revelation
Beneath the Skin
Cherchez Wolf Pack series
Wolf’s Ascension
Sworn to the Wolf
Chase Brothers series
Giving Chase
Taking Chase
Chased
Making Chase
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Whiskey Sharp: Jagged
Lauren Dane
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08321-8
WHISKEY SHARP: JAGGED
© 2018 Lauren Dane
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This one goes out to all the badasses with an aftermath story. Big or small, you survive. You make it through and serve as an example to the rest of us. Thank you.
Author Note (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
While Pioneer Square and SoDo are two very real neighborhoods in downtown Seattle, I’ve taken some liberties. Added some buildings, renamed a few, as it helped flesh out the characters and their stories. Still, Pioneer Square is every bit the former home to bootleggers and the criminal element partly responsible for the face of the city today.
Contents
Cover (#ubb12082d-3c09-5368-9851-e939b8e58953)
Back Cover Text (#u19e717dc-c715-5a7b-9d87-43cb52b0eb92)
Booklist (#ub50bd5a3-8a29-5df5-8b41-5317403f978a)
Title Page (#u2ed97774-251f-5425-83de-e47cb65a3da1)
Copyright (#uef28420e-7e68-52cf-8173-40a8ee3083b1)
Dedication (#u8f173e10-676c-5a06-8474-17089f4de6a1)
Author Note (#uc42a8774-6e60-5cfb-91b9-c63a106bf741)
CHAPTER ONE (#ub6ef8e17-ad09-5212-88dc-8aed183d9a92)
CHAPTER TWO (#u46804d10-3dee-568b-b939-2c7664e2856b)
CHAPTER THREE (#ub7e4b157-a60b-5bc4-825b-8dc42cc1c7a3)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u7c5ffdc3-f0e2-5d23-aa3d-070d2c1fce09)
CHAPTER FIVE (#uea70c1e9-98b4-57a2-b92f-a7483ec48a79)
CHAPTER SIX (#u50a15c7e-b8f2-5561-8862-2772cb7361e2)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u1b17e9a8-ba34-511f-9f9c-a125c115270e)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
LINES ON THE PAGE. Each sketch, each movement created a world she was responsible for. A world whose rules she made. A world whose rules they obeyed.
For a control freak like Rachel, it was as good as the talk therapy she’d been in for the last three years. It freed her. Gave her the ability to effect change on multiple levels.
And she didn’t need to hunt serial killers or carry a gun to do it.
It was also a hell of a lot safer.
Sleep often eluded her, but the creative fire that had ignited into fierce existence in the wake of the events that had shattered her entire life four years ago rarely did. So when she couldn’t find rest, she could always find art.
Her music wasn’t so loud she missed the ping of her phone, indicating a text.
I’m in my driveway. Your light is on. Are you still awake?
Her pulse kicked at the sight of his name on her phone’s screen. Vicktor Orlov. Heard the words in his voice in her head. That accent, a sexy Russian lilt though he’d been born in the United States. Growing up in a houseful of Orlovs and various relations with heavy accents had been close enough, she figured.
And it worked. Like really, really worked. It didn’t hurt that he also happened to be gorgeous. Sinfully sexy. Funny. Super smart. He worked with his hands so he had great forearms. One of her favorite parts of a man.
Over the years Rachel and Maybe had lived next door to his parents, he’d come to be an acquaintance. And since her sister had gone and fallen in love with his cousin, Rachel and Vic had gone from acquaintances to friends.
And the door had been opened to something else. Something more. The possibility of what could be hung between them.
She considered not replying. He wouldn’t know either way. He was messy. She couldn’t keep him in a tidy box marked Friend. Not any longer and certainly not if she went and texted with him at three forty-seven in the morning.
Couldn’t sleep. Working instead. Why are you up so early? Hot date that went late? Just enjoying stalking my window like a creeper?
It was a joke, or she wouldn’t have said it. His house sat on the curve of their street, so from his front window and driveway he could see the side of the house Rachel’s bedroom was on.
I run a bakery. I’m usually up by four thirty most days. Today I switched with my mother so she could accompany Evie to a doctor’s appointment. I start work in about half an hour or so.
Ah.
He always smelled really good. Like bread and cake and just a smidge of vanilla. She wanted to take a bite. Or a lick. Something of the sort.
Vic made her tingly and warm and sometimes he made her want things she didn’t need.
And yet, she found herself responding because she liked him—more than she should—and around Vic she was less alone. And maybe closer to being a normal person again who did things like have crushes and went out on dates with hot bakers.
Save me a loaf of black bread. I’ll drop by later this morning to pick it up on my way to work.
Then she’d be able to get some food and look her fill at him while she did it.
That’d most definitely give her workday a fine start.
I’ll save you two and throw in some salmon. But you don’t need to come get it. I’ll be done by eleven. I’ll drop it by your house when I go home.
A flush washed through her. She’d be alone in the house by then.
It wasn’t that having him in her house was bad. It was that he was dangerous for her constitution because she wanted to jump on him and ride him like a stallion.
Which would be a bad idea. Probably.
Possibly.
Not that she planned on avoiding it. The having him in her house part. The riding like a stallion was still in the fantasy stages.
Okay. Thanks, she typed back.
It wasn’t like she had no self-control. She could say hello and look at his butt and flirt and it would be fine. She was a grown woman!
And, since this was just a conversation in her head, she could admit that maybe she wanted something to happen with him. They had chemistry—major chemistry—and she got the feeling, given the way he moved, that he knew his business when it came to a woman’s body.
She went back to her pad but instead of the drawing, all she could think of was Vic and those shoulders of his. Wide. Not linebacker wide, but solid and strong. Capable. She liked that.
In fact, she was bummed she’d agreed to let him bring the bread to their house because she realized he probably looked ridiculously hot when at work. She bet it was pornographic just watching him knead bread. She already had watched him in her kitchen doing things and gotten a little swoony.
Yeah.
Her phone pinged again.
How often do you have trouble sleeping?
That was a very long and complicated subject and one she didn’t want to get into via text, in the middle of some flirting.
I get most of my best work done after midnight.
Truth.
He sent her a selfie. One of his brows was raised and he wore a smirk. All parts south of her hairline went on alert. She’d be keeping that picture of him. Just for reference. Or something.
He was unf-worthy for sure. He was just so fucking much. Hot hot hot.
Hm. What’s that face for?
Other than licking and kissing. Perhaps even a nuzzle of that spectacular beard.
That’s my I don’t believe you face. As for sleeplessness, I have some tea that might help. I’ve had bouts myself. What time do you leave for work?
Rachel frowned again and then forced herself to relax. That line between her eyes was getting deeper due to what her sister called glowering. Whatever it was called, it was going to make her look old if she didn’t stop it.
She’d rather think about how Vic’s waist nipped in, creating some sort of inhuman pizza shape of gorgeousness from his shoulders to his other parts, like his penis.
His cock was probably commensurate with his overall size. Which meant big. And what sane gal didn’t like that? Well, if she liked dick in the first place—and Rachel most assuredly did.
Her little sister, Maybe, had been giving more get it, girl messages when it came to Vic over the last weeks.
Maybe, with all her glitter and snarling punk rock. Her sister was a little bit of the best parts of all sorts of things and she blurted weird stuff all the time.
It was one of her finest qualities because you always knew where you stood with Maybe. She didn’t play games and she loved and protected Rachel as if it was she who was the oldest, not Rachel.
Hello? Did you fall asleep? he texted.
Before she’d gone off on some fantasy about his body, he’d asked her a question, hadn’t he?
I’m leaving at a quarter to noon so I can catch my bus.
Rachel liked taking the bus. It forced her out of her comfort zone to be around people in such close quarters. Every time she managed to make it through without freaking out or getting even slightly uncomfortable she began to believe she’d truly be better at some point. And it cost a crapton of money to park in Pioneer Square.
Some days she drove or rode in with Maybe and Alexsei, who both worked just a block away from the tattoo shop, but that day she’d planned on busing into downtown as her sister and her sister’s boyfriend were headed in earlier than Rachel needed to be there.
I have to go back downtown this afternoon anyway. I’ll be at your house by eleven thirty. I’ll make you brunch and give you a ride to work after. Turning off my phone now as I’m headed out the door. See you later today.
Oh! The cheek! Rachel stared at her phone a few moments and then, with a smile, she tossed it to the bed and took up her pen once more.
* * *
THERE WAS FROST on the front lawn as Vic pulled away from his house and headed toward the bakery his family had run for the last thirty years. It crouched right at the southern edge of downtown Seattle most locals referred to as SoDo.
The location meant their business was heavy with commuters and downtown workers at their lunch hours when they wanted to pick up one of the bakery’s runzas for a quick meal. It also meant they were closed by three and on most weekends.
The bakery was pretty much always busy. A constant stream of customers, punctuated by rushes, meant the place was either full of customers, or all the employees were busily setting up for the next round of things to do.
As jobs went, it was a good one. Kept him busy. Paid his bills and enabled him to keep a hand in the family business along with his sister and parents. Gave him the space to keep an eye on everyone and make sure they were doing okay. Especially in the wake of his brother’s death when the family had all but fallen apart.
He pulled into one of the two parking spots that came with the building and unlocked the back door, turning on the lights in the smaller prep kitchen before heading down into the heart of the bakery where the big ovens lived.
This was a place he knew. A place he’d been part of—and had been part of him—since before he could walk. As much a home as the place he’d slept at night.
He knew the slight warp on his favorite pastry scraper. The way the lights made the stainless steel worktables gleam. He hung his coat on the second hook, replacing the clean apron his mother had left on her way out the afternoon before.
First he turned on some music. Phantogram’s “You’re Mine” came on and smiling, he began to make dough.
He’d done it so many times it was second nature. Muscle memory as he dumped the yeast into the flour. The ancient mixer was still there because despite its age, it worked perfectly.
As the place began to hum and the dough took shape he allowed himself to think about his exchange with Rachel.
Want roared through him. He’d had a thing for his parents’ mysterious and broken next-door neighbor for well over a year by that point and over the last few months their friendship had deepened to the point where he’d truly gotten to know her better.
And now he was pretty sure he was already half in love with her.
At first he’d thought she was stuck-up. But he’d come to realize a lot of what he’d perceived as standoffishness had to do with anxiety and a bit of fear. The longer she and Maybe had lived in Seattle, the more she’d begun to settle in, the less anxious she appeared to be. And thankfully he saw way less fear in her eyes—especially when she looked at him—over the last year. She was taking her life back, pulling herself from the dark place she’d been. It was like watching a phoenix.
Just a few days past, Rachel’s father had burst into her home and threatened to institutionalize her under a conservatorship and keep the sisters apart. Their burning resentment of Maybe, and the overly controlling parenting of the oldest, Rachel, had boiled over into what Vic believed was a death blow to the parent-child relationship for both Richard Dolan’s children.
And as hard as it had been to see Rachel’s heart get broken by her parents, it had been the way she’d stood up for herself and her sister that had been the last sign Vic had needed.
Rachel was strong. Fierce. Independent and utterly capable. This was a woman he could pursue in earnest without worry. He’d wanted to give her time and space to heal and to grow to trust him.
In truth, he hadn’t been ready either. Not ready to step into something he knew without a doubt would be serious. But he’d been in her kitchen as her father had been railing about something ridiculous and the desire to protect her had been nearly overwhelming. In that moment everything had shifted. He hadn’t felt this way—this powerfully—for a woman in a long time.
He saw her so clearly, saw the beauty of the strength at her core, he knew there’d be no peace for his heart until he kissed her. And more, though that was down the road a ways. Knew too that he was ready to dedicate the time and attention a woman like Rachel and a relationship with her would deserve. She needed spoiling and he was the guy to deliver.
She called to him. Something inside him stirred every single time he saw her. Her eyes and the shadows there. Her flaws and the way she powered through and did what needed to be done, even when the cost was written all over her face. All of it comprised the whole of her. The whole, fascinating bundle of gorgeous contradiction.
He’d been thinking about her so hard he didn’t even hear his dad come in until he spoke. “I’m getting too old to be out of my bed on a cold dark morning.”
An oft-repeated thing from his father, who’d most likely be happily kneading dough right where he stood just then until he was ninety-five.
“I told you to sleep in today. Nicklaus is coming in soon.” Nicklaus had worked at the bakery for fourteen years and he was Vic’s right-hand man. He normally did the first shift, getting the dough started before the second crew—including Vic—arrived at five. Bread would be in various stages of the process, proofing, baking, second rise, resting and once done, put in wire baskets Vic was sure were older than he was to hang on hooks at the top of the stairs to be brought to the counter.
His aunt Klara ran the upstairs with his mom and they made up the last shift that started at six thirty. Evie usually came in around six. Her specialty was the sweet dough. Together with their father, they’d make vatrushka with apricots, a particular favorite of their customers, along with cinnamon rolls and the other sweets that they’d sell over the course of the day.
Every single employee of the Orlov Family Bakery was truly family, including Nicklaus, who was a second cousin. For a long time Vic had appreciated that, but hadn’t understood just how important it was. And then Danil had died and without the support of his extended family Vic was sure they wouldn’t have gotten through it.
His dad slung on his apron, tying it around his waist with a satisfied grunt. Vic didn’t bother to point out the freshly brewed pot of coffee. His father was old school. He had coffee with cake and black tea with everything else.
“Your mother was up. She’s in fine form. Bossing the dogs around. I got out before she started on me too.” Though he sounded grumpy, Vic knew it was an act. His parents had a real, deep and intense connection. They could fight, that was also true, but they’d drawn closer each time they’d been hit with tragedy as well as when times were good.
His sister, Evie, had said once that they were spoiled by that example and would never accept anything less than a love like that.
He agreed. Vic felt settling was for pizza and music when on a road trip. It was definitely not for love.
While getting his tea, Vic’s father switched the music from Vic’s choice to Stevie Wonder. Vic hid a smile and kept working. His father was the senior member of the staff and the family. He got to make the musical and television choices. This was his edict for all of Vic’s and Evie’s lives.
“I’m going to ask Rachel Dolan out,” Vic said, forming high, round loaves on the long worktable.
“You’ll lose your heart to that girl,” his father murmured as he stirred sugar into his tea.
Surprised and not entirely sure what his dad had meant, Vic said, “I like her. I have for a long time now. But I knew we had to be friends first. She’s not going to do me wrong.”
His dad grunted a laugh. “Not my worry.” He switched to Russian, which Vic knew was his dad’s emotional language. “She is fragile and yet resilient. That draws you. You are easy to laugh. Easy to lend a hand. But she is not easygoing. She comes with heartache and sadness.”
“So do I,” Vic said.
His dad nodded again. “It’s why you two are drawn together. You want to fix things. Make people happy. You always have. Our little sunshine child, your mother says. But here, with your Rachel, you can’t fix what’s broken with her. You have to live with that and so does she.”
Hard, he understood, to sit by when someone you cared about dealt with the sort of pain Rachel toted around.
“One step at a time. First dinner and maybe a movie.”
“Tell me, why now?”
There wasn’t any judgment in his dad’s tone. His parents liked the Dolan sisters a great deal. But he wanted to understand. Which is why Vic had brought it up, because he knew his dad would give him good advice and a pep talk that might or might not include an actual kick to the seat of his pants.
Just in case, Vic always kept a safe distance for escape.
He told his father about the scene he’d witnessed at Rachel’s house just a few days prior. Explained how he’d felt, how much he’d wanted to burn things down to protect her, even as he’d admired her strength and spirit when she stood up for herself and her sister.
“I just knew I wanted her to be mine. I looked at her and she was hurting and it meant something to me. I wanted to fix it. Assure her she was everything her father told her she wasn’t.” And because she’d let him stay to witness the whole scene, it had also felt like she’d opened the door up into a far closer and more intimate relationship.
His father glowered. He adored Maybe with all her vibrant color and noise. Every time she came over to his parents’ place, his dad would brighten. They’d already begun to see her as a daughter and had definite opinions about how the Dolans treated their children.
He stabbed a finger in the air before he put his tea aside and began to work. “I don’t like those people. How they upset their daughters!”
What’d been revealed during that terrible scene was very private. But he knew Maybe would be all right with him talking to his family about it. He told his father about how Rachel and Maybe’s dad blamed their youngest daughter for being repeatedly sexually propositioned and stalked by one of his coworkers. Told him about how devastated Rachel had been that her sister had been so abused and hurt. The guilt he knew she would never let go because she hadn’t protected Maybe.
His father cursed a long stream in Russian. Not loud. No, when Pavel Orlov got pissed, he got quiet. He bellowed when he was happy instead.
Vic merely nodded at his father before continuing. “They want to control Rachel. Take away something she needs to make her dependent on them. If they succeed in taking her freedom, we’ll fight for her. She can’t be caged.” She’d been at the mercy of someone else when she’d been kidnapped and Vic knew she’d break if it happened again.
“You make sure she gets the papers to protect herself,” his dad told him.
“She’s supposed to call Seth to get his advice.” Seth was his cousin Cristian’s fiancé. He was a cop with the Seattle Police Department so he had good information and given the way Seth was, he’d walk her through the process. “I’m making her brunch later on today so I’ll make sure she does it then.”
“You be careful too. The father is dangerous. It would be good if they leave Maybe alone now. It’s Rachel they want. But if they can’t get it...”
Richie Dolan had a temper. One laced with threat and menace and Vic didn’t like it at all. He was the type of man who probably bumped shoulders with other men to assert some sort of dominance.
Vic didn’t underestimate that threat. But he damned sure bet Dolan underestimated his children and their resilience.
“I am. I promise,” Vic assured his dad.
CHAPTER TWO (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
RACHEL STOOD IN her closet, looking at her clothes. Annoyance warred with delight. It’d been a while since she’d dressed up for a man for more than just a few weeks of sex and then moving on. That was easy. A mask, a costume that spelled out the limits and boundaries of the interaction.
Sexy in a generic sense.
But Vic wasn’t some dude she’d bounced on a while. He was someone she knew and liked. Someone who came over to her house on a regular basis. A guy who’d seen some of her most private stuff aired out.
God. She shouldn’t do anything with him. Just stay friends. If they started something and it went bad it would be awkward. And she really liked the Orlovs and his cousin was living in her house, sullying up her sister. Gah!
So much energy buzzed just under her skin. Had been since she’d gotten out of bed and tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal that he was coming over and making her food and giving her a ride and being all helpful and nurturing and it was really insanely hot and comforting and he was sexy. So sexy and he wanted her. Her!
“Going off the rails here,” she murmured to herself.
Of course she was naturally going to try to talk herself out of getting into anything romantic with him. It was dumb and risky, just as she’d reminded herself.
And of course she was going to do it anyway.
He made her dizzy and sort of sappy and dumb and really horny. She wanted to see what it would be like. To have something with him, to give the zing a chance. She wanted to let herself feel all this really good stuff.
* * *
BY THE TIME he showed up at her door she’d managed to get the eyeliner on both sides into pretty respectable wings and given the goofy look on his face when he checked out her tits, the choice of the snug T-shirt she’d worn over a long-sleeved Henley was a good one.
“Hi.” He smiled at her, all gorgeous teeth framed by his beard. Sometimes she let her cheek brush it when he hugged her. And she wondered what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of her neck. Or the inside of her thighs.
Holding up an armful of packages, he thrust a huge bouquet of flowers at her. “I bring food and flowers in tribute.”
Rachel took them, pausing to breathe in the scent of the pink-tipped cream-toned roses he’d given her.
“Good morning.” She stepped back to let him come inside, taking a surreptitious sniff of him as he passed.
Yum.
She led him into the kitchen, where he began to unpack the haul he’d brought. Trying not to show how giddy she was that he’d brought her such pretty flowers, she made busy with trimming the stems and arranging them in a vase she placed in the center of the kitchen table.
“Thank you for the roses,” she said, shyness in her belly.
He turned, approaching her slowly until he’d backed her to the counter, his body shy of touching hers. “You deserve roses.”
The shyness in her belly turned to butterflies.
“I do?”
He nodded and then, shocked her into total stillness as he dipped and slid his lips over hers. Tasting. Sipping.
He backed up just a little before he got close again, this time sliding his tongue against her lips and into her mouth when she opened on a sigh of pleasure. The heat of him blanketed her, along with his scent, and she had to exercise all her self-control not to rub against him.
One last kiss, this one with a nip of her bottom lip. “I’ve been waiting a long time,” he murmured, gaze searching hers. Looking for fear? Hesitation?
She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly, one last time, chasing that query from his eyes.
“I hope it was worth the wait,” she said, trying to sound saucy.
He smirked. “It was.”
She smiled. “Good. I concur. On the being worth the wait, that is. Coffee?”
“Yes, that’d be great. Omelets okay?” he asked.
Nodding, she poured them both a large mug, leaving his near where he’d begun to assemble the ingredients for their meal.
“You know where the milk and sugar are if you want some.” She indicated the sugar bowl.
“My mother says I’m sweet enough on my own,” he told her.
Snorting, she rolled her eyes and went back to looking at him, enjoying the tingling left after that kiss.
“You do pretty well in that department, I must admit.”
Visibly pleased, he shrugged, not at all bashfully. He was just so damned self-assured. Easy with himself as he moved around her kitchen.
“I’ve decided we should go on a date. First dates can be weird, even when you already know the person. So I propose this to be our first date so when I take you out, it can be the second date and we don’t need to be nervous. Naturally there’ll be flowers because, as I mentioned, you deserve them.” He nodded as he began to assemble things in a fashion her love of order found very sexy. He poked around in the cabinets until he found what he needed and got about his business.
She sat back in her chair, utterly charmed. Damn it, why did he have to be so sexy and funny? So emotionally well adjusted and stuff? The whole of him was utterly irresistible.
It’d been hard enough when he was aiming all that charm at others. But over the last several months he’d turned it on her. Making it clear what his intentions were. Even as he never pressed for more than she was comfortable with she couldn’t deny the chemistry between them.
He’d pushed his sleeves up, exposing ridiculously sexy forearms, and then washed and dried his hands. He stood, giving her his profile, his features exposed because his hair—acres of thick, gorgeous hair, nearly shaved at the sides but long on top—was captured in a ponytail at the back of his head. He usually wore it that way when he worked.
It should have been douchey or bro-something. It was hot. Slightly messy but that was because he’d been up since four working on that upper body she got a little dizzy when she looked directly at. Like the sun.
“When you turn on the taps you go all the way, don’t you, pretty boy?”
“Too much?” he asked, knowing she wasn’t going to agree.
“It’s impressive.”
“Impressive is good.” Cocky, he raised a shoulder slightly.
“That remains to be seen,” she told him, teasing.
His laugh was one she hadn’t heard from him before. Low and lusty. It made all her hormones stand up and cheer.
“I’m very competitive. It means I tend to get very focused when I’m trying to hit something out of the park. Get your rest.”
It was Rachel’s turn to laugh. Flirting with him felt good. And she couldn’t deny the curiosity about just what he’d show her to impress her.
“Do you want ham or turkey?” He pointed at the cutting board with his knife.
“Ham is good. Thanks.”
Silence lived between them for a bit as he cooked, filling the kitchen with some really good scents. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Being with him rarely was.
“Busy morning at the bakery?” she asked.
“Even my mother was pleased with the business today. She’s a hard taskmaster and has very high standards when it comes to what she considers a successful day’s take.”
Rachel laughed. Mrs. Orlov was one of her favorite people. Though small in stature, she was a big presence. Especially within her family. A force to be reckoned with in her community.
She only hoped to one day live as boldly as her own person as Irena did.
As he made the food, she hopped down and began to slice thick pieces of bread to be toasted. Pretty much daily throughout the last several years, she’d eaten bread created in the Orlovs’ ovens. It had given her roots. A sense of place in her new life.
And at least a few more pounds.
“I brought fresh butter,” he told her, indicating a wax paper–wrapped square on the counter.
Fresh bread and butter brought to her by a gorgeous man? She must have done something pretty awesome in a past life.
“I also brought some of the tea I texted you about earlier today. Drink it an hour or so before you want to go to sleep.” He paused. “How are you feeling? Aside from the sleeplessness that is. I haven’t seen you in person since Sunday night.”
Embarrassment flooded her. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you had to see all that. We invite you over for a meal and then act like assholes.”
He looked up, anger on his features a moment. “You don’t apologize for that. I told you Sunday. Everything that happened was from your father. Don’t insult me with apologies.” He made a sound. A distinctly Russian thing his whole family tended to do when they got annoyed or impatient. A bah! of a sound.
It made her smile. She saluted him. “Okay then. I’m feeling tired. Worried, I suppose. But pissed off is the dominant emotion.”
“Did you call Seth about a protection order?”
“I called someone else. A friend of a friend. I used to be in law enforcement, remember? I have a meeting with an attorney tomorrow.” Though if Washington was like most other states, getting this order would be difficult because her father hadn’t physically threatened her.
But if an official body like a court told her father to leave her alone, he would. It would be the underline of authority he’d need to truly back off.
It hurt to know she was going to take an official step to keep her parents away from her. Hurt to know she had to.
He’d gone to the stove, the omelet now in a skillet.
They worked in the kitchen, stepping around one another to complete their tasks and she realized he didn’t evoke the need to step away. She didn’t think about how she’d take him down if he ever tried to hurt her. Not anymore anyway.
They were alone in her house and he was half a foot taller and she trusted him not to use that against her.
It made her feel just a little more human, a little more okay every time she was able to take a step back from that dark pit she’d been in for so long. She was more person than wounded animal in a trap.
* * *
THE WANT, THE need to put his mouth back on hers rode him hard. She was more than he’d thought even just an hour before.
Now that he’d tasted her there was no going back. No unknowing. Part of her lived in him now and he liked it.
He hadn’t planned to kiss her that morning. He’d wanted to wait until their date. But well, she’d been there and looked at him with that fucking gorgeous face. It had been better than he’d imagined it could be. The connection between them sparking to life.
Sexy. So sexy his skin seemed to buzz just being near her.
She placed a pitcher of juice on the table, nudging it his way.
“You’re a good host,” he told her as they sat.
“You did everything. All I had to provide was a table and some plates. I think I win.” She shook her head as she peppered her food. “And I also have to admit Alexsei is the one who grocery shops most often so I can’t even take credit for the juice.”
This private Rachel was one he craved. She was open with those closest to her. He loved it when she teased him. Her dry sense of humor had been a delight to discover. And the sexy flirting, a new addition to their interplay, had been a really great surprise.
“I bumped into Evie at the grocery store yesterday. She showed me pictures for a tattoo she wants,” she told him.
He withheld—barely—an eye roll. His sister was trendy. She had the latest shoes and clothes and now wanted a tattoo. But she was so picky it had been at least a year since she came up with the idea of getting one and hadn’t pulled the trigger on it because she couldn’t choose.
“It’s nice that you’re so close with her,” she said.
“She’s a pain in my ass with shit taste in men.” He shook his head. “But no one makes a cinnamon roll like her so I suppose we’re stuck with each other.” His little sister was the heart of their family. Especially since Danil had died.
“Little sisters are the best. Don’t tell Maybe I said so. I like to keep her guessing.”
Vic snorted. “I’m fairly sure your sister already knows you have a soft spot for her.”
“Someone needs to,” Rachel muttered.
Vic reached across the table and squeezed her hand, surprising them both. But she smiled, squeezed back and then pulled away.
“So. Our second date. What should we do? Dinner? Movie? Drinks? All three?” he asked.
She looked at him awhile. Not speaking. He looked back, wanting her to see he was serious.
“I’m weird.”
“Huh.” He cocked his head a moment. “I was not expecting that. Like at all.”
She laughed. “I’m told I can be unpredictable.”
He leaned closer, pleased at the way her pupils grew larger as he did. “I like unpredictable.” He took a bite, thinking over what else to say. “Are you trying to warn me off? List your supposed negative attributes so I’ll see you’re not worth my time? Because after those kisses I should warn you it’ll take more than you telling me you’re weird. In case you hadn’t noticed, my whole family is weird.”
She paused and he watched what had to be a dozen thoughts flit over her features. So expressive when she decided to share that part of herself with him.
He challenged her.
It made her feel like he knew she was strong enough to own her shit. So he called her on it because she was worth the energy.
“I’m just saying I come with a lot of baggage.” She shrugged. He was an excellent cook. The eggs were buttery soft, the saltiness of the ham a perfect addition.
He eased back, eating once again, but keeping his focus on her. “You’re attracted to me. We have some major chemistry. Are you saying I’m imagining it?”
She was a lot of things but she wasn’t a liar. Not even to herself.
“No. You’re not imagining it. Zing.” She waved a hand between them, indicating their attraction. “We’ve got it big time.”
His smile sent a shock of desire through her. “All right, that’s established. So why hesitate about coming out with me?”
“To be clear, I’m not hesitating about going out with you. I just wanted to be clear up front that I’m damaged goods.”
He sat back to take her in, all feline and powerful. He moved like music, caught her up in him like magic.
“You’re not damaged, Rachel. You’ve had life happen to you. And some of it was a nightmare.”
A nightmare she wasn’t entirely done with. Some scars never healed.
Most people wanted to save her. Pity her while being fascinated by the gruesome details.
He just was. When he was around her, he expected nothing more than what she wanted to give. She’d never really given thought to what it might feel like to be doing this slow dance into romance with someone like him.
Easy. Alluringly so.
“Look at you having such an intense discussion in your head.” He began to eat again.
She could have told him it was too risky. His cousin was now living in her house. Utterly besotted with her sister who adored him right back. Vic also happened to be close as brothers with Alexsei so if things went very badly between them it would impact pretty much every aspect of their lives. His parents lived next door, along with his sister. He only lived half a block up. They saw one another at the various events the bakery had booths at, as well as at the barbershop Alexsei owned and Maybe worked at too. Which was four minutes door-to-door from the tattoo shop Rachel worked at.
But she didn’t say any of it. Because he knew all that already.
“It’s just dinner. We can work our way up from there. If you were going to try to talk yourself out of it, you should have done it earlier,” he added.
“You’re right.” She snapped free of her internal argument and snorted. “Fine. I just want to be sure you’re going into this realizing what you’re doing.”
“I always know what I’m doing, Rachel. I’m deliberate. I always have been. I’ve wanted to go out with you for quite a long time,” he said in an infuriatingly calm voice.
She tore off a piece of toast and jammed it into her mouth, chewing a while before finally asking the question that’d been nagging at her. “So why now? What changed from yesterday? Or the day before?”
She couldn’t deal with pity. Not from him.
“I let you have yesterday because after that fuckery on Sunday you needed a break. I also knew you and Maybe took the day off to hang out and I left you alone. But Sunday is when I knew. I’ll give you all the reasons why when you’re ready to hear them.”
“When I’m ready to hear them?”
“That’s what I said. Tell me, how is work?” he asked, changing the subject. She began to demand he tell her but hesitated.
“Busy. Lots of people like to get ink around Valentine’s Day.”
“Romantic gestures they’ll have to get covered up in a year?”
“I thought I was jaded,” she said.
He blushed and she couldn’t help the way it moved her.
“I’m not jaded. I can see the appeal of getting ink for your sweetheart. I know several people with horror stories, but they’d have horror stories either way, I suppose. The bakery does a brisk business for Valentine’s Day too. This year Evie is making heart-shaped vatrushka and she uses strawberry in the center.”
Oooh! “Did you bring one of those? It doesn’t have to be shaped like a heart as it’s already a pastry and I’d just eat it anyway.”
“I didn’t. For our second date, I’ll bring you some to go with the roses.”
That the normally easygoing Vic was coming back to the second date thing clued her in to the fact that he also could be like a dog with a bone when it came to getting what he wanted.
Damn it. Every second that passed he just got sexier.
Thankfully, since she wanted it too.
The moment stretched out between them as they finished brunch. Rachel tried not to jump up to clear off the table and clean the kitchen, telling him since he cooked she’d clean. It gave her some physical space and something to do while she processed the way he made her feel.
Vic eased back, watching her. Giving her silence but not taking his focus away. Once he’d fully stepped into her world, he apparently wasn’t going anywhere.
Which, she had to admit, was a nice thing. She wanted to be wary of it. Look for ulterior motives. But...he wasn’t that guy.
“Ready to go? I took what I needed to drop off next door on the way here so I can take you straight in. My mom isn’t home or I’d take you over there first,” he added.
“Really?” A flush of happiness hit that Irena wanted to see her and say hello. Vic’s mom had become more and more involved in the lives of the Dolan sisters.
Actually, it was more that Rachel and Maybe had been involved in their lives. The Orlovs and their wonderful, giant, loud family who’d begun to treat them as if they were family too.
“Yes, really. She likes you and Maybe. You listen to her stories and let her teach you things in her kitchen. That means a lot to her.”
It was totally mutual. Being able to hang out in Irena’s kitchen had been a reasonably new experience in her life. Rachel loved it there. Vic’s mom knew so much about so many things and was always happy to share her expertise. She was hilarious and nurturing and in general, a lot of fun.
“It’s the other way around. She’s always so patient even when I’m terrible at something.” Rachel grabbed her things and made one last check to be sure the stove was turned off before they headed out.
Vic said, as they reached her front door, “It’s what moms do.” It must have been her snort in response because he paused and then said, “What they should do.”
Even though he’d reassured her that she had nothing to apologize for after that scene with her parents, it still embarrassed her that he’d witnessed it.
She used the excuse of locking her door to get herself together again. But when she turned, he was there, a hand out to stay her.
“Wait,” he murmured as he bent to zip her coat. “Don’t want you getting cold.”
It was so unexpectedly sweet it knocked her off balance a moment. “Thanks,” she managed to say right before he gave her a quick kiss. Right there on her front porch.
His hand, warm and sure, sat at the small of her back as he steered her to his car and opened the door for her.
On the way to the south end of downtown that made up Pioneer Square, where Ink Sisters was located, she could have told him she didn’t need a ride to work. She could have driven. She could take the bus and still make it on time.
But the truth was, she wanted to spend more time with him. He smelled good and it was really cold and parking was expensive.
And she wanted to be able to be honest about her life with someone other than Maybe and their best friend, Cora.
He lightened her mood just by being around. Accepted her without expectations that felt like a burden.
“If it helps any, my mother is bossy and nosy and insufferably meddlesome sometimes,” Vic told her, surprising a laugh from her lips.
It used to feel sort of rusty when she laughed. Like an old hinge on a door not often used. But it didn’t feel like an act to laugh with him, didn’t feel unnatural to guffaw or snicker.
“I may have noticed that a few times,” Rachel told him, deadpan.
* * *
HE DUG HER sense of humor. Dry and sarcastic with a sense of darkness he undeniably clicked with.
“What time do you get off tomorrow? For our date.” He figured it was time for another pass at nailing down details.
She blushed, ducking her head slightly so her hair slid to partially screen her face. “Tomorrow is Wednesday so I’ll be done by seven.”
“I’ll drop by the shop at seven, then, to pick you up. I’ll drive you home and then you can come to my house when you’re ready.”
“I’m fairly sure you must have gotten this bossiness from your mother. I can just get home and meet you after that. Or we could go straight to dinner from Ink Sisters.”
“I know you can. I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night but I’m sure I’ll see you before that.” He hoped.
He pulled to a stop in the loading zone in front of the shop.
He wondered if she was going to argue and then wondered whether it would be a disappointment or not if he had to coax her into the plan. Coaxing her was rather pleasurable. And her crankiness was hot.
“Fine,” she agreed at last. “Thanks for brunch and the bread delivery. And the ride.”
“Wait just a moment,” he told her, reaching back to grab the bag he’d placed there for her earlier. “Shortbread cookies made this morning. Just in case you get a craving for something sweet later.”
Her mouth curved up into a smile before she leaned in to quickly brush her lips over his and scrambled away and out of the car. She held the bag aloft. “Thanks for these too.”
With a grin, he waved before heading back into traffic once he got an opening.
* * *
NEEDING TO TALK to Maybe immediately, Rachel hurried through the shop to the back where the lockers were.
“He gave me cookies,” Rachel told Maybe over the phone the moment she answered. She was so giddy she was past being embarrassed at how giddy she sounded.
“Who gave you cookies?”
“Vic! He came over and made me food and then grilled me sort of and then he told me we were going on a date. Our second one. Which we are tomorrow night and I’m not sure how it all happened. He’s very smooth and possibly he mesmerized me with his forearms. Maybe, have you seen the man’s forearms?”
Her sister laughed. “Took him long enough. I honestly was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to jump to it or if I was going to have to manufacture something to get you together. Jeez. And of course I’ve seen his forearms. They’re like art. They need to be appreciated.”
“So say we all,” Rachel told her. “It’d be a crime not to.”
“So you have a date. A second date, which means you declared brunch a date, which means there was at least some smooching today. Tell me everything right now,” Maybe demanded. “Did you do below the underpants stuff? Or is that what the second date is for? Probably second date.”
Rachel laughed so hard people in the shop most likely heard. “He made me food and kissed me stupid and gave me a ride to work and when we got here, he handed me a bag of cookies. You know, if I wanted something sweet today. It’s pretty hard to resist,” she admitted.
“So don’t. Why resist at all?” Maybe’s voice had softened.
“Well, you’re right. I’m not going to.”
“Duh. Save me two cookies. I want to hear every last detail about the brunch but I’ve got to run, my client is here. Don’t tell Cora first or she’ll lord it over me forever.”
The sisters had been close, but in the years since she’d been kidnapped, they’d become best friends. Without Maybe, and then later, Cora, Rachel wasn’t sure she’d have made it through some pretty rough spots as she recovered.
The three women had a deep bond and connection that included plenty of teasing and ass-kicking along with the love and support.
“I’ll tell her you said that. She’s going to ask me what happened the minute she comes in.”
“She’ll understand. Tonight how about we catch up on some shows, eat pizza and hang out? You can fill us both in then. Alexsei will be here until ten and then he and Vic are having drinks afterward so we have plenty of alone time to gossip,” Maybe said. “I gotta go. Love you. See you tonight at home.”
CHAPTER THREE (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
CORA SMIRKED AS she dumped off her bag and coat before coming through to the kitchen where Maybe was.
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let her tell me about the brunch. What if something of a sexual nature had taken place?” she said, pointing at Maybe.
Maybe said, “If something of a sexual nature happened she’d have made me come to the shop this afternoon. Or she’d have called you to meet her at Whiskey Sharp before she was due in. Crybaby. Pizza should be here in like ten minutes. I called when I got home.”
Cora hugged Maybe quickly before she got them all glasses, filling them with ice for the root beer she’d brought along.
“What are we watching tonight?” Rachel asked as she got plates down from the cabinet.
Maybe took one of her hands and tugged her to the couch, where she sat, Cora across from them perched in the big chair. “While we wait for pizza you need to tell us what happened with Vic.”
“Well, he texted me. I told you both about that. And then he waltzes in and smells all good, like bread. Seriously, it should be a cologne, right? Anyway, then he kissed me! And gave me flowers.” Rachel indicated the overflowing vase on the table. “And he cooked. Not just toast or an Eggo. An omelet!”
“Back to the kissing,” Maybe said. “We really don’t care about eggs.”
“He’s a really good kisser as you might have imagined. He tastes good. The beard is soft and smells nice. Self-assured. Confident. All signs point to really knowing his way around a lady’s best parts.”
Maybe clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes comically wide. Cora stomped her feet as she whooped and Rachel just shook her head at the two of them.
“And I’m pretty sure he was happy to see me, if you get my meaning, and I know you do because you are both women of loose morals.”
Cora wiped a sarcastic tear from the corner of her eye and then flipped Rachel off.
“So, was he like really happy to see you? Like big guns happy?” Maybe asked.
“Proves my point. Floozies, the two of you. I assume you’re inquiring about the size of his equipment?” Rachel asked, faux pearl-clutching.
“Of course we are. So? Is his dick big or will he try really hard to make up for it in other ways?” Maybe snickered.
“He won’t need to make up for anything. I mean, it was like laundry day or something because he felt like he had a few rolls of quarters in his pocket.”
The three of them dissolved into laughter for a little while.
“Anyway. Like I said, he’s a very good kisser. He’s got a great body. He’s smart and funny and I don’t know, it’s easy to be around him. He’s our carb connection and your boyfriend’s bestie so there’s that risk if things go south. But he makes me feel all this really wonderful stuff. You know?”
The pizza arrived so they filled their plates and settled in on the couch to continue the conversation.
“I do know and I’m in total support of it.” Maybe shrugged. “It’s good to see you taking this step. Letting yourself have some romance.”
“It’s not like I’ve been a nun since Brad and I broke up,” Rachel told her sister.
Cora said, “No. But that wasn’t romance. That was casual—but prudent—sex. You had these long-term fuck friends but none of that was about anything more than sex. Which was all you wanted and so yay for you because fuck pretending a lady doesn’t need some sex to clear out the cobwebs and be living our best lives and stuff.”
“You’ve always been happier in a relationship. Even back in high school,” Maybe said. “You just never had the right guy. Vic though? He’s another level. He’s the kind of person you deserve. Who’ll give you the energy and focus you deserve. And he’s a grown man. He doesn’t need saving or taking care of. If things don’t work out, it’s not going to be weird.”
Cora said, pointing at Maybe, “Yes to all that. He’s gorgeous. He clearly knows how to kiss and he’s got a big dick. This is all very good. He brings you flowers and bread. He’s definitely worth a second date. Now, not to be a buzzkill or anything, but what’s up with the situation with your parents? Maybe said you two are seeing someone about it?”
“We’re meeting with an attorney tomorrow,” Rachel said. “We’ll file for a protection order against Mom and Dad both. Keep them away from Ink Sisters and Whiskey Sharp as well as the house. He needs to have it underlined that we don’t want anything to do with him and that we won’t tolerate any more of this threatening crap.”
No one was going to cage her ever again.
* * *
WHICH IS WHAT she said to her attorney as she and Maybe sat in front of her the following day.
Sarah, their lawyer, nodded. “First let’s talk about the conservatorship. His chances are pretty dismal. You’re gainfully employed. You’re physically healthy and working on your mental health. We’ll get your therapists here and back east to file evaluations. I’ll do it up front so we can be ready when the requests for them come.
“At this point, given your stability, there’s no reason to assume you can’t handle the day-to-day decisions in your life. I know it’s easier said than done, but I want you to try and remain calm about this. I can handle most of it without either of you needing to be there. That’ll save a lot of time and he can’t use the system to force you to see him. Sometimes that’s enough. Once that avenue is closed, a lot of jerkoffs will lose interest.”
“I hate that he’s just doing this to try to control me and harass Maybe,” Rachel said.
“It’s not an unusual thing for an abuser to do. It’s a classic move.” Their attorney shrugged. “I don’t much like bullies so I’m going to have a delightful time thwarting him.” She put aside one folder and opened another. “As for the protection order, I don’t think you’ve got the grounds with your mother so I’d suggest holding off. With your father, we might be able to get some leverage with feeling threatened. He’s big, he’s come to your home uninvited. He’s threatening your independence. It’s enough we can at least get a temporary order. Some guys back off and don’t contest the order after the temporary expires after two weeks.”
“He’ll contest it. He’s very into authority. The court is an authority. If the court tells him not to do something he feels entitled to do, he’ll contest it because he won’t want a judge to feel he’s an abusive guy. And he’ll contest it because he won’t see himself as harassing anyone, merely being a good parent,” Rachel said.
Their attorney tapped her pen against the pad on her desk. “That could very well be. I just wanted you to go into the process understanding it and what your chances might be.”
They moved to outlining some next steps and an hour and a half later, she felt a little bit better about her future and her ability to protect it. She’d taken some of her lost control back, steadied herself with it and now she’d keep enjoying her life because she’d earned every day.
* * *
HE TRIED NOT to rush, but it was hard because now that he’d allowed himself to openly want her, it was like he couldn’t hold it back.
“Slow it down, dude,” Evie bitched at him. “You go showing up over there an hour early and she’s going to think you’re a creeper.”
“I have things to do before I go pick her up. It’s rush hour anyway and I don’t want to be late or have to hurry.”
Generally, he tended to be really mellow about most things. It took a lot to get him riled up. But he hated to be late. Probably because his family was always so big and had so many moving parts that they tended to have been late for everything.
But his mother had volunteered him—without even asking him first—to go with Evie down to Pike Place Market to pick up fruit for the bakery. And naturally his sister had wanted to stop at Beecher’s for cheese and then she’d hauled him across the street, pointing at the florist’s shop. “Give her flowers.”
“I was going to,” he muttered. But this place did have really nice bouquets, especially for the season.
“Where are you taking her?” she asked.
“Le Pichet,” he said, grabbing a huge bouquet full of color. The pick-me-up, especially as it had been a dark, wet and cold winter, would be a good thing. And it enabled him to spoil her more.
Evie nodded, clearly impressed with his choice. He had a feeling there was a hedonist inside Rachel and he wanted to lure her out. Good food, good wine, flowers, pastries, Vic wanted to fill her life with treats and delights of all kinds.
“Excellent choice, especially for an early date. She’s going to know you won’t be taking her to gross chain places where everything has a punny name.”
He withheld a curled lip because that was what she was trying to get from him. Little sisters.
Back at the bakery, his mother made him have a cup of tea with her as Evie packaged up the heart-shaped vatrushka he’d promised to bring Rachel the day before.
“I don’t need to tell you to be nice to her. You have wonderful manners,” his mother told him. “I don’t need to tell you anything because you’re a grown person, a man who is kind and will do the right things.”
She nearly always knew the exactly perfect thing to say. A lot of people—himself included—bitched about their mothers, but his was pretty wonderful. And supportive.
* * *
THE SHOP HUMMED with talking and the buzz of the tattoo machines as clients got their ink done. Rachel’s neck was a little sore as she’d spent several hours on a half sleeve, bent at an awkward angle to get the lines laid just right.
But the work had been really good and she was proud of it, so the sore neck was worth it. Finley, her boss, Cora’s big sister and the owner/operator of Ink Sisters, plopped down in Rachel’s chair.
“When is the hot Russian coming to get you?”
“In about twenty minutes. I really could have gone home and met him there.” She shook her head with one of those what can you do movements.
“Sure you could have. He knows that too. But he wanted to drive you. That’s nice. It’s not like he’s unaware that you can handle yourself and your commute. He wants to take care of you.”
He did. That’s really what it was. So sweet and sexy. “I bought a new sweater today. I’m so stupid.”
“Why? Because you want your tits to look nice on your date? Girl, stop. Of course you do. There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop looking for problems.”
True. She had enough as it was.
Finley continued, “He’s cute. He’s nice. He has good manners, a job, a house. And he likes you. For you. This is all good. And, by the way, you did amazing work today.”
“Yeah?” Rachel asked, grinning. She admired Finley’s talent so much, and that she’d been such a wonderful mentor and so supportive had been one of the major reasons she’d been able to make a real go at tattooing.
It hadn’t been easy. Rachel was good with paper and pen. Or pencils, chalk, paint, whatever. She was artistic. Not something she’d really pursued earlier in her life, but in this new chapter, it had been part and parcel of every day.
But paper wasn’t skin. And at first it’d been a challenge getting past the fact that she was permanently changing someone’s body and the cost of a mistake was huge. She hated making mistakes.
Finley had repeated that some artists took longer than others to hit their stride, but that once Rachel trusted herself to do ink, she’d be headed that way. Fear was holding her back from her real potential.
It had taken a while. Trust, especially of herself, hadn’t been easy. But once she’d taken the leap it had made all the difference. Trust in herself had unlocked something, had enabled Rachel to connect with the work she did on a whole new level.
“It’ll definitely go up on the wall with your other birds.” The best of the shop’s tattoos were placed on the wall in the small waiting area as examples of the kind of work they did. It would give her some extra attention, which meant more clients.
“Excellent,” Rachel said, not bothering to hide how proud she was. Pride in yourself when you did your best was a good thing. That was one of her mantras and one day she might actually believe it.
* * *
SHE MADE IT a point to be outside at the curb right at seven. Over the years, Rachel had taken note of how punctual he was. Generally amiable, he got agitated when everyone lagged or made him wait.
He pulled around the corner and frowned when he saw her. It didn’t stop him from double parking to let her in, though.
“I said I’d come in and get you,” he told her once they were headed home.
Though Rachel knew what he meant—that he wanted her to wait inside so he could come to the door—she couldn’t seem to stop herself from acting like she didn’t. Just to get a rise out of him. “You did come and get me. That’s how I came to be in your car at this very moment.”
“You should have waited for me to come in and get you,” he said in a grumbly tone.
“Well, that’s silly when I can just take a few steps out the front door so you don’t have to try to find a place to park. We’re not teenagers on a first date and you parked at the curb and honked your horn.”
“Sometimes I think you argue because it pleases you,” he said and it made her laugh.
“I think you’re too used to how easy your life is. You’re pretty and charming so everyone just gives you what you want. You don’t know what to do when anyone won’t go along.”
“If everyone did that, life would be better. It’s not too much to expect,” he told her, the laughter in his tone obvious.
That was the difference between his sort of bossy and what her parents were trying to do. It was why he was charming and they were being abusive.
Funny how she knew that and yet it still caught her up.
It puzzled her but she put it away as Vic pulled up at her place.
The lights were on inside so Maybe and Alexsei were already home. Rachel had thought it was nice to have her sister’s boyfriend around. Maybe had brightened even more since they’d become an item. She was more confident—if that was possible—and steadier. Love suited Maybe.
If for no other reason than the fact that he made Maybe happy, Rachel would have liked Alexsei. But he’d become an awful lot like a brother since he’d moved in. And it meant Vic was at their house a lot more too.
“I’ll be back to get you in half an hour. We have dinner reservations,” he told her before he drove the half block to his driveway.
“Okay then,” she muttered to herself as she let herself into the house.
Jesus, hot Russians everywhere. Alexsei stood in the kitchen with Maybe and one of the various cousins, Gregori, who was a fancy-pants megastar artist. His girlfriend, Wren, also an artist, sat at the table with a glass of wine.
They all greeted her with smiles and hellos when she moved through the room on her way to her side of the house. “Hi, all!” she said as she kept going. “Gotta run!”
Maybe was at her door two minutes later. “What are you going to wear?”
“Sweater, trousers, boots. It’s fucking freezing out there.” Rachel tossed off the layers of T-shirts and tanks and swapped out for the beautiful smoky gray cashmere sweater she’d splurged on after they’d left the attorney’s office earlier that day.
“But cute underwear, right? I mean what if something happens and you two want to throw off some clothes and you’re wearing something old and gross?” Maybe said as she dug through a nearby drawer.
“I don’t wear old and gross panties!”
“Okay, but you’ve got like, underpants to be viewed by the outside world and then those you save for your period.”
“I promise not to wear my period panties on my date, Maybe.”
Her sister tossed a hot-pink bra and panty set her way and then shook her head. “Never mind, not those. The color is too bright and you’ll be able to see through the sweater. Hmm.” Maybe pawed through her stuff some more before finding a similar set in an icy blue with a triumphant hoot.
Rachel knew her sister well enough to just put on the things she’d procured. The bra was one of those extra perky ones so it mounded up all that lady-flesh nicely at the neckline of the sweater.
“Go eat dinner with your boyfriend for god’s sake and stop pestering me,” Rachel said, batting Maybe away from her hair.
“Just let me get to the back. It’s sticking up.”
Finally she just let her sister fuss as she managed to reapply her lipstick after brushing her teeth.
“I want to know every detail,” Maybe said in a stage whisper as they heard the noise downstairs that indicated Vic had arrived.
“So everyone keeps telling me. This is dumb though. He’s your boyfriend’s BFF!”
“Shut up and go break off some of that. I’ll be waiting up and don’t argue because it won’t matter.” Maybe pushed her down the hall.
“Bossy bitch.”
“You got that right.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
VIC PULLED HER chair out and leaned in, taking a sniff at the back of her neck. “You smell like jasmine,” he said, joining her.
“It’s one of my favorite scents.”
His too, now.
“How was your day?” he asked her once they’d ordered and the wine had arrived. The small dining room was absolutely packed and he wondered if she’d be all right with that, but she didn’t seem to be having any difficulty.
He warred with himself over protecting her and leaving her alone and respecting however she wanted to handle herself. It was his nature to want to take care of people. He’d always been that way. But Rachel was a whole new problem. A whole new situation to try and figure out.
“It was weird. Saw an attorney. Then we went to the courthouse and got a temporary protection order for my father. We have to go back for a permanent one in two weeks after my dad gets served. That’ll be oodles of fun.”
He clinked his glass to hers. “You’re doing what you need to, to protect yourself. Not fun, but necessary.”
“It’s a huge waste of my time and it pisses me off.”
He sat back and took her in. “Okay then. Good.” He got the feeling she’d fight better and harder if she was pissed off. And what they’d done to her and Maybe was provocative and naturally she was upset.
“He’s a retired cop. He knows how to work the system. My attorney wanted me to be prepared. I hate that I have to be. Seth called to check in on me, which I thought was nice.”
“Once the Orlovs consider you family, you can’t escape us. Even fiancés and next-door neighbors,” he told her with a smile. “You think he’ll fight you on this.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. He’s used to being obeyed. When we lived on opposite sides of the country and I was doing what he expected me to everything was fine. For me anyway. He and my mother were abusing Maybe and I didn’t know how bad it was.”
She ran a hand through her hair, exposing the delicate shell of her ear, and a nearly insurmountable need to touch it with his mouth hit him square in the head.
Thank Christ the charcuterie showed up so he had something to do with his hands—and mouth—before he hauled her close enough to do it.
“I heard the whole thing. On Sunday with your father,” he clarified. Her father had shown up angry, ripe for a fight. He’d savagely ripped into his children, trying to pit one against the other so he could control his eldest. So that he could jettison the youngest. Richie Dolan was a poor excuse for a human being and a shit father. “You can’t blame yourself for that. We talked about this yesterday morning.”
“No. You said I didn’t have anything to apologize for when it came to you seeing how my dad acted. Not that I didn’t protect my baby sister.”
Shadows then in her gaze and he knew she’d remembered those three women who’d died in that basement chamber of horrors as she’d been waiting, wondering when her time to die would come.
“Can I admit something?” he asked. He had to lean close to be heard because the place was full of noisy, happy diners. It lent a sort of privacy that even a more empty restaurant couldn’t offer.
She turned, her face close enough that he could really see her eyes. The amber fringe of color around the pupil. “Yes,” she said.
“Sometimes I’m not entirely sure how to talk about certain things with you. Not because you’re fragile or because I pity you. But I don’t want to stumble into something that brings up bad memories. So I apologize in advance for the times when I’m going to put my foot in it.”
She swallowed and then nodded. “You didn’t. Stumble into something. It’s always with me. What happened. It’ll never completely go away and that’s how it is. So yes, I didn’t protect Maybe from my father and I didn’t protect those women Price killed before they found me. But they’re not the same thing anyway.”
She busied herself with food awhile as they drank wine and were just together, but silent.
“I think he will fight. I think he will try to pull strings. I think he will hurt Maybe to get to me. I think he underestimates me and how far I’ve come. And I think he overestimates how good he was at his job when he compares his skills to mine,” she said at last.
Vic nodded his head. This was good too. She wasn’t going to let this stop her from living the life she’d worked so hard for.
And it was really fucking hot when she got mad and a little violent.
“Yeah? You were a hot shit FBI agent looking all tough and sexy as you brought down the bad guys. Your sister has sung your praises more than once.”
“Maybe is good for my ego.” Rachel shrugged. “I was good at it. Better than he ever was. And that never occurred to me until this mess. I was just glad they were proud. I simply had no idea that to them pride was such a poisonous thing. But he wanted to put me and Maybe in enemy boxes and all he managed to do was put himself there instead.”
“Is there no going back? Nothing he could do to fix this?” Vic knew it was easy to be in his place and make judgments about what she should do. He thought Richie Dolan was bad for his daughters. Toxic. He’d done and said things that seemed impossible to get past. But sometimes families did.
“I don’t think so. I can forgive a lot. But what they did to Maybe? And what they’re trying to do to me now? Take away my freedom. Cage me? No. And that they don’t seem to understand why that’s a problem? I feel like they should know me better. But I guess I didn’t know them very well either. No. There might be a time when I could be in the same room and not want to punch his face, but I don’t think I’ll ever be happy to see him again. He broke something important and some things can’t be fixed.”
“Some people can’t be fixed. He’s an adult. A parent. He makes his own choices. No one can look at you now and think you’re not in control of your own life, Rachel.”
“I’m outraged, you know? Like, how dare he try to do this to me? He’s disrespecting me and my life. My friends. My sister and best friend. Their daughter!”
He rather liked seeing her this way. Not that she was experiencing emotional upset—but the passion in her tone, the way she held herself, spine straight—it was bold and exciting. Intriguing and sexy as fuck.
“And now they’re here on this date in this seriously wonderful little bistro. I apologize,” she told him.
“You apologize too much for things you don’t own.”
“You brought me flowers again. Daffodils and larkspur. And pastry shaped like a heart. You’re bringing your A game.”
That pleased him. That she teased and opened up a little bit, sharing a private part of herself, though he hadn’t failed to notice her changing the subject about always apologizing for things other people did.
“I don’t do anything halfway,” he said of his courtship game.
“So, today I dealt with that stuff with my parents. The attorney is going to handle all the response to this conservatorship stuff as well. Then I went back to work, but on my way stopped at that little clothing shop between my bus stop and Ink Sisters. There was a sale. Always a good thing. So I then went to work, where they’d just ordered lunch including a burrito for me. Also a good thing. Then it was super busy until I got off work and met you at the curb. And now I’m here with you.”
He took her hand, turning it to kiss her wrist before letting it go. “And now you’re here with me. Which is most definitely the best thing in my day.”
“I’ve told you all about my day. Tell me about yours.”
He watched the deliberate way she moved, the choices she made, how she combined and tried new things as they arrived at the table.
“Work. Stayed after we closed to help with cookie baking for this group my mom and aunts are all into at the church. They bake and then take the stuff to all the older people who are on their own. Visit with them a little, you know? She sent me and Evie over here to the market to pick up some fruit. Then made me bake for them and drink tea. They were heading out when I left to come get you.”
“Of course all those babushkas wanted you to cook for them and make tea. I mean, look at you. Anyway, it’s nice. Your whole brood are just really nice people. Except Rada. She’s a jackwagon.”
Vic nearly choked at the mention of Alexsei’s ex, who had been less than friendly to Maybe. “To be fair, she did give him a head’s up about your sister looking like she might need help.” Rada was complicated. As Evie’s best friend, she’d been part of their family a long time. She’d been worried Maybe would push her out of the family for good since she and Alexsei had already been broken up for nearly a year.
“I didn’t say she was an evil master villain. But she’s not nice. I’m not nice either, it’s how some of us are.”
He thought about that for a bit. “I think you’re nice.”
“I do nice things sometimes. But I’m not nice. It’s not an insult. It’s just a personality type.”
“Huh. Okay, I’m going to ruminate over that awhile because I’m not sure if I agree or disagree. Were you... Never mind.”
“What? Was I nice before?” she asked the question he hadn’t known if he had the right to.
“Yes.”
“I think I did all the things I was expected to. I helped people in trouble in my job. I had a fiancé who had a very good job and very nice teeth.”
“Always important,” he said to make her snicker.
“Anyway, it was a good life. I don’t want to make it seem like before I was taken I hated my situation. It was a life I was happy in. And then something happened and turned it all upside down. A lot of things weren’t strong enough to survive the carnage. But some of those, like the fiancé, weren’t quite what I believed they were from the start.
“And after I’d come through it all, after everything insubstantial had burned away, I started a different life. And I wasn’t nice anymore.”
He ate as he got himself back together. She unraveled him. Not something he was entirely comfortable with.
“Okay. I can see that.” Though he thought she was pretty damned nice, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her what she felt and who she was. “What are you doing this weekend? I’ve got both days off and I was thinking of a hike up at Tiger Mountain. It’ll be cold, but clear. Have you hiked it?”
“No, but it’s on my list.”
“It’s not super strenuous, but a good workout. I promise to take it easy on you.”
She snorted. “How do you know you won’t need it the other way around?”
“Who says I want you to take it easy? Maybe I like it hard.”
He hadn’t meant to say it. Or maybe he did but he hadn’t meant it to sound so very suggestive.
But she wasn’t offended. Not at all, unless he was misreading the way her eyelids went half-mast.
“Perhaps I like it hard too.”
Holy shit. What the hell was he supposed to do with that image? Except think about how to make it reality.
“I think we need hot chocolate. And a fire,” he said around a suddenly thick tongue. “I even have the supplies to make whipped cream for it. I’ll walk you home afterward.”
* * *
SHE SHOULD HAVE said no but she didn’t.
Instead, he tucked her up on his couch and made them both hot chocolate with fresh whipped cream while she basked in the heat of the fire and watched him.
His house was the same sort of tri-level ranch house their neighborhood was dotted with, but with a modern touch. Dark wood floors with burnished steel. The overstuffed couch she was on was plush and deep green with nail head accents.
It was a decidedly chic, adult space. Classic. Sophisticated. He was way more than she’d expected. Her mistake really, she should have paid better attention. But naturally she got caught up in that face of his.
She was only human, after all.
“So tell me about your favorite tattoo lately,” he said as he joined her.
“That I’ve given?”
He nodded.
“I’m still giving it. A half sleeve. It’s a cardinal. Full color.” She indicated the way the bird lay around the curve and muscle of the upper arm. “Wings open. There’s a lot of fine line work with the feathers.”
“What about it makes you so proud of it?”
She thought awhile about the exact words to use. “It takes a steady hand. It’s scary at first when you’re inking someone. This is a big piece. A mistake is forever. I was nervous but since I just jumped and did it, it’s turning out really awesome.”
“You’re a risk taker.”
“Not so much anymore.”
“Making art is taking risk. You create something and throw it out there to rise or fall. That takes guts. And tattooing is forever. Well, there’s cover-ups and removal but you know what I mean.”
“I do.” She hadn’t thought of it like that but he was sort of right. “You’ve got the heart of a poet.”
“Evie says the same. I can’t see it.”
Without thinking about it, she reached out and pulled his hair free to tumble down. “You even have the hair and the face of a fallen angel.” It had been intended to tease but damn it if it wasn’t true.
“I tell myself I’m going to keep it slow and easy and then you go and say things like that. So delicious, right here under my nose for three years. You’d think after three years I’d have more chill, but I don’t.”
She drew a shaky breath. “I really shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be telling you all this stuff and thinking about how you kiss. There’s something about you, Vic. I say things I don’t intend to. I want things I shouldn’t. It scares the hell out of me.”
It was only the second date, but it was way deeper than that. They’d been developing a relationship for years and it seemed like now that they’d finally stepped into this new romantic thing between them, the intimacy had sharpened.
After years of living a very pared-down life, focused on herself and surviving, it was tender, nearly raw to let someone as close to her as she found herself doing with Vic.
“I’m not that person. I make good choices. I’m responsible. I pay my bills on time and I turn the water off when I’m brushing my teeth,” she told him.
He put his mug down, taking hers as well before turning back to her and enfolding her hands with his own.
“Are you suggesting I’m a bad choice?” he asked, teasing.
“Do these pants make my butt look big?”
He leaned closer, touching his lips to her cheek quickly. “You have an amazing butt and anything you wear makes it look great.”
“You’re not a bad choice.” Especially when he said stuff like that. “I’m just being weird. I did warn you. Let’s make out.”
His smirk told her he knew she was changing the subject and also that he was down with a lot of kissing.
He pulled her closer and then into his arms, crosswise over his lap. She squirmed just enough to get a lay of the land, so to speak.
Well now. There was some big country going on.
With a growl, he cupped her jaw, turning her to angle her mouth just how he wanted it. Their first kisses the day before had been sweet and sexy. But this...this was an utter devastation.
He nipped and nibbled, licked and sucked every part of her mouth until she was a warm puddle of purring woman, arms around his neck to keep from drowning in him.
He branded himself all over her. The heat of his hands—one splayed on her thigh, the other at her hip—seared. His taste burned itself into her memory so deep she knew she’d never forget.
A sexual fire within her burst into life, sending sparks of need through her as she urged him closer.
Yes. Fuck yes. More. More. More. She shifted her hold, fingers digging into his shoulders, holding him to her.
He hummed, as if she were delicious. “Gonna take a while to get down to the center of you,” he said against her lips.
She might have come just hearing those words.
Against her ass, his cock was hard and ready and big. All the protestations that she wasn’t a size queen flew out the window in the face of the very large penis that came along with this very hot Russian.
“I’m not going anywhere, so feel free to be thorough.”
He laughed, setting her back on the couch beside him. “I plan to spend a great deal of time on you, Rachel Dolan, with your wary eyes and that mouth that makes me weep.”
“I don’t want to make you weep,” she said, her lips quirking up into a smile. “Well, maybe I’d like to make you beg.”
He leaned in and stole a kiss that left her mouth swollen and tingly. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. I’m going to walk you home now.”
“Wait. What?” She looked at the clock, noticing it was already after eleven thirty. He had to get up early and she’d gotten all caught up in her hormones. “Later than I thought.”
He pushed his hair away from his face. “It’s not that. The occasional night where I don’t get at least six hours is fine. You’re worth it and I can always nap after work. I just want to take some time. I want you to crave me the way I crave you. And when we finally end up in bed—and we both know we will—it’s going to be mind-blowing. I like this stage. Full of anticipation. Discovery. I know your favorite color, but I didn’t know you’d like heart shaped pastry.”
“Who doesn’t like pastry in any shape? What are they? Monsters?”
“I like to sip and savor.” He stood and held a hand out. “You’re complex and layered, I’m going to enjoy you.”
She allowed him to pull her to her feet and then he helped her into her coat, again pausing on the porch to zip her up.
“I liked our second date,” she told him as they walked up her front steps.
“I did too. I think the third will be awesome as well.”
“I have high hopes,” she told him, deadpan.
Once they’d gotten inside it was to find Maybe and Alexsei were sprawled on the couch, all snuggled up and looking adorable.
“You get points for walking her in,” Maybe told Vic.
He bowed to her and then turned back to Rachel. “I’m sure I’ll see you before Saturday.”
“Chances are, yes.”
He bent and kissed her right there in her house and even though they’d just kissed for like forty-five minutes, it got her all starry-eyed again.
He and Alexsei blabbered on about something or other before he headed out and she pretended not to watch his progress from her bedroom window. Which worked until he turned, looked right up at her bedroom window and waved.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
MAYBE SHOWED UP before Rachel had even finished taking off her makeup.
“No, we didn’t have sex. Yes, we kissed. A lot. Like, he’s a tasting menu of kissing and it’s mind-blowing. I think I might combust when we finally fuck.”
Maybe closed her mouth and just watched Rachel finish up before following her out to the bedroom.
Finally her sister broke with an excited little dance. “So this is really good and I’m trying hard not to show just how excited I am so as not to spook you but I need details.”
After she got changed into warm pajamas, she and her sister got under the blankets. “It was a nice date. He took me to that little French bistro at Pike Place. He asked me questions about who I was as a person, as an artist.” She fell silent for a bit. “Perhaps that’s why I react to him so strongly.”
“That or the fact that you’ve known him for a few years and over the last six months especially you two have been circling one another slowly. That’s like foreplay.”
“He just clicks all my buttons. It feels like a lot. And the old Rachel would have been suspicious of it and avoided him until it went away.”
“As I happen to be feeling pretty intensely about Alexsei right now I can relate. It’s a loss of control to be that into someone. To be feeling all those chemicals bubbling around. The attraction, the sense that this person is unlike anyone else you’ve come across.”
It did feel a little like the way she did just after riding a roller coaster.
“And,” Maybe continued, “you’re not that Rachel anymore. So there’s a thing. An important thing. And it’s not like you’ve been choosing one terrible dude after the next. You just haven’t really been choosing at all. Past the scratching that itch stage.”
“It’s intense.”
“Totally.” Maybe rested her head on Rachel’s shoulder a little while. “Tell me the rest.”
“We had dinner. He’s a door opener and a chair puller outer. You know? He’s gentlemanly without being controlling. Bossy and used to getting his way probably through charm alone. And, Maybe, his face! How the hell can I resist? Which is rhetorical because I’m not resisting. I haven’t made out with a dude in a long time. Probably since college. It’s a simple pleasure. I could do it every day, much like eating bread and drinking coffee. Funny how he’s related to two of those things. I just...when I’m with him I don’t feel broken.”
Or maybe that the way she was broken was okay. And beautiful.
“We’re going on a hike this weekend.”
Maybe turned to give Rachel a face. “Ew. Well, you two kids have fun while I won’t be hiking. Or outside in the cold when I don’t have to be. Weirdo.”
“It’s nice to be able to go on a hike. It’s been a while.” She loved hiking but after the kidnapping it had taken her two years before she’d drummed up the courage to go into the woods again.
“You do look super cute in your hiking gear. Wear those spandex pants that make you look like you’re training to be in the next dystopian action movie I can’t wait to watch.”
Rachel laughed even as she knew the exact pair of pants her sister meant and put them into a contender spot. They were great in wet weather, kept her warm and made her butt look fantastic.
“I have heart-shaped vatrushka with strawberry. I was going to have a cup of tea. I’ll share with you and your wild bearded Russian.”
“Score. He brought gelato home and I think it should go with all that.”
“He’s a super useful new roommate. I’m just going to get that out there,” Rachel said.
“I agree. He’s even more useful to me. And I mean that in a totally sexual way,” Maybe told her as they got out of her bed.
“I figured that out.”
“Just wanted to be sure you understood.”
Rachel flipped her off.
* * *
FRIDAY EVENING WHEN she and Maybe walked up the street from the bus stop, Irena came out to the front porch and called to them.
“Come have tea. I made golubtsi, you can have some too.”
“We’ll be over after we drop our things off,” Rachel told her as they hurried up to their front door.
“Looks like a full house over there. I can’t believe Alexsei didn’t mention that.” Maybe dumped her backpack into the closet. “I need to change. I’ll meet you back here ASAP.”
Naturally, she freshened up and brushed her teeth. If Vic was there, she might kiss him. But she did it quickly because neither Dolan sister wanted to make Irena wait.
“Come over for tea,” Maybe muttered as they approached the front door. “There’s a full-on family dinner situation going on in there.”
Rachel really liked the big family events at the Orlovs’. Loved not just the volume of food, but the people, the easy back-and-forth between them as they teased, lectured and shared news.
Sometimes it got heated—well, often—but it wasn’t mean. Lots of passion. Rachel hadn’t known how to handle it at first. They’d grown up with quiet judgment from their mother and reprimand from one source only, their father.
Vic opened up, smiling at them both as he stepped back to admit them. “Come through. She’s already making you plates.”
He gave her a hug and brushed his lips over hers. A kiss that told everyone in the house they were together. A kiss Rachel knew the rest of the family was okay with as no one stopped what they were doing, though they all noticed.
Pavel shouted a hello before enveloping Maybe in a big hug and then, surprising Rachel, he gave her one too. Though not as ebullient as Maybe’s, which made her choke up a little. He knew enough to want her to know he was happy to see her but also knew she needed to be approached gently.
And then Vic was there, drawing her away toward the big dining room table where, as he’d noted, his mother had set out overflowing plates she described as “a little bite.”
Rachel wasted no time tucking in. She’d last eaten hours ago and the food smelled as good as it tasted. This was comfort food at its most perfect. Warm and hearty. The sauce on the golubtsi was spicy rather than sweet. Nestled up against that were the potatoes that padded the carbs until all her cells relaxed with a sigh.
She must have made the sigh audible because when she snapped from her food fugue, she noted Irena giving a satisfied nod. Vic draped an arm over the back of her chair, leaning back so he could continue flirting with his aunt Klara.
Klara gave his arm a blatant look and then tipped her chin. He grinned like he had a secret, unrepentant.
Before Rachel had kissed him that first time, she’d been able to appreciate his charms but keep a distance between them. Now it was like her attraction to him—her awareness of him—was at ten.
He was fucking adorable. Irresistible. God help her.
Irena sat across from them at the table with a tired sigh. “Get the girl some tea, Vityunya.”
He kissed the top of her head as he stood and went off to do his mother’s bidding.
“This is all so good,” she told Irena as she made the superhuman effort not to stare at Vic’s butt while he puttered around in the kitchen.
Vic’s mother attempted a casual shrug but there was pleasure on her face at the compliment. Irena loved taking care of her family and friends. She baked you something if you were happy or sad. She made soup or dumplings if you were sick. A cluck or a tsk. A hug, a congratulations, a stern talking-to. A whole emotional language through food.
“Until we moved next door I’d never had cabbage rolls. I had no idea what I’d been missing,” Rachel said. Their mother had been a good cook, but for her, food had been a means to an end. Fuel and nutrients.
One of the reasons Rachel had been active from an early age was her mother’s constant focus on weight and clothing size. It had been Rachel’s way to control food and her body.
Still, she liked food and while she knew she tended toward obsession when it came to exercising and physical strength, she felt like she had a better handle on it than she ever had, even before the kidnapping.
Irena frowned and then pushed some bread and butter her way. “I will teach you. It’s easy.”
Rachel somehow doubted it was what she’d consider easy, but she liked knowing things. Liked learning and mastering things. And she liked being in Irena’s kitchen, in the heart of the house. Liked being part of what the Orlovs had built.
“I’d love that. I’m always happy to learn whatever you’re willing to teach me.”
“If she learns them then she can make them at our place,” Maybe said.
“Or you could make them for the rest of us. I’ll pay for groceries,” Rachel said before she thanked Vic for the mug of much-needed tea he brought her.
“I know you like the kind without caffeine so I bought some,” Irena told her.
“Better sleep at night without it so late in the day,” Vic said, as if to remind her he hadn’t forgotten about her sleep problems.
When Vic and his mother doted on her and did nice things, it made her extra blushy and a little shy. Sometimes she wondered what they saw in her that made them like her so much.
Evie joined them. “You’re here. Let’s talk about the tattoo I want.”
Panicked, Rachel looked to Irena and then Pavel. Evie’s parents frowned, but they didn’t say anything.
Vic snorted. “She’s a big girl. If she wants ink, they’re not going to stop her.”
“Not when you have it and they didn’t stop you,” Evie told him.
Irena chuckled as she waved a hand. “Don’t worry, Rachel, we don’t hold it against you.”
“I do. But you’re too sweet to stay mad at,” Pavel said.
That cracked her up. Vic’s dad was hilarious and nearly as adorable as his son. The noise level rose, but it was pleasant instead of annoying.
“Since your specialty is bird tattoos, I’ve been thinking about a firebird. The mythological kind. Which isn’t real of course, but it’s a bird,” Evie said.
“Why a firebird?” The answer would guide the design.
“When I was little, my mom would read us fairy tales from this beautiful old book she brought with her from Russia.”
“Color?”
Evie nodded.
Orange and yellow. Rachel could see the design in her head already. Placement would be key.
“Where?”
“I’ll leave that up to you. I have another small tattoo on my calf already. But. I want it big and bold.”
Irena said a long stream of something in Russian at that. Evie was an adult and if she wanted to get a head-to-toe tattoo it was her business. But that was between her and her parents, and as a child’s girlfriend, Rachel had no place in the discussion.
Finally they stopped sniping and Irena rolled her eyes, sitting ramrod straight. She’d said her piece and it was over.
Evie looked back to Rachel with an expectant smile.
“Call the shop and tell them to set you up with the appointment. I’ll work up a few sketches so you can look them over first.”
Evie clapped her hands, clearly excited, and it was impossible not to get caught up in it.
Vic’s sister wanted a tattoo from her. She mentioned other ink on her calf so she already had a tattoo artist she knew of. But the design she wanted meant something to her, which meant something to Rachel.
It also made it easier for Rachel to create an image meant for Evie and Evie alone. There would be other firebirds, but only one like what she’d put on Evie.
Every piece Rachel did was unique. Little details that no one else would have. It was just a little thing she did. And now she’d do one for Vic’s sister.
Stuffed and feeling rather warm and loose, Rachel sat back and rubbed her stomach. “That was so good. Thank you for inviting us to dinner.”
“A full house makes her happy,” Vic said.
“It does until a quiet house makes me happy,” Irena replied and Rachel could totally relate.
“Let me clean up,” Rachel said, standing and beginning to gather plates.
Irena made a dismissive sound. “You can help.”
Maybe joined them in the kitchen as they put away the food and then began the process of tackling the dishes. Vic came in to ferry whatever food that hadn’t fit in the fridge to the one in the garage.
It didn’t take very long and, in the meantime, the cards had come out, along with a chessboard, and Evie’s best friend—and Alexsei’s ex-fiancée—had shown up.
Maybe rolled her eyes, but only when no one could see her face except Rachel. Rada and Maybe had achieved a truce and were fine being civil with one another but Rachel knew her sister still thought the other woman was an asshole.
Vic grabbed her by the waist to waylay her, drawing her close. “It makes my mother happy to teach you things,” he murmured in her ear.
“It makes me happy to learn things and eat what she cooks.” She tried to get a little space, knowing they were being watched. “Really, I like your family.”
“That’s good. Since they’re part of the package.”
It was a pretty spectacular package, all teasing aside.
“Come play cards,” his father called out from the dining room.
“Aren’t you tired?” she asked Vic quietly.
“In a good way. If you want to go home, no one will be offended. But I’d like it if you stayed. They would too.”
A warm wave flowed over her. She knew the look on her face was goofy but it couldn’t be helped. She was happy.
“I’m a night owl. You’re the one who gets up at four every day.”
She’d be worth a tired day. “Not tomorrow though. I get to sleep in.” He wasn’t going to beg, but certainly a cajole would be fine.
Especially when it made her features soften and get a little more tender. He was a sucker for her soft side. Wanted to coax it out. And when she was kind to his family, laughing and playing with them, it was like nothing he’d ever experienced.
“All right. But don’t expect me to take it easy on you tomorrow on our hike.”
“I’d never expect anything less. Now go lose some money to my father and I’ll get you some tea and me some vodka.”
CHAPTER SIX (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
HE KEPT AN eye on her—and her ass—as she climbed the trail ahead of him. Her hair pulled into two short little pigtails, sleek gear clinging to her figure. A strong, fit figure.
Out here she tended to move with measured confidence. He found it sexy that she knew what she was doing. Her strength and skill made it possible to enjoy the hike the way he did when he was out with his buddies in his hiking crew.
She didn’t need taking care of. Didn’t want it certainly. Out here she was in her element as much as he was. Another sexy thing.
It was cold but mostly clear, though he got the feeling she’d have been okay in the rain too. And when they got to the top of the trail where they’d be turning to head back, she pulled out a thermos. “Want some coffee?”
He sat on a log and patted the space next to him. “I do. I propose to trade cookies in exchange.”
“You’re handy to have around, Orlov.”
He pulled the cookies out while she poured them both a cup of coffee.
“Did you make these?” She indicated the cookie she nibbled on.
“Fresh yesterday morning. I set some by for this hike. I know your secret.”
She turned, a question on her face.
“You have a sweet tooth. Just know I’ll happily seduce you with whatever tools I have in my arsenal.”
Laughing, she stole another cookie from the bag on his lap.
“Have you loved baking since forever? I imagine growing up in the family business it’s easier that way. Were they bakers back in Russia?”
“My mother was a nursery school teacher. My dad worked in a factory. They came here in the early ’80s and they started the bakery on little more than a hope and a prayer and a Russian community here in Seattle hungry for a taste of home. We grew up in the bakery, but I didn’t always want to run the business.”
Life sometimes just happened to you. She’d know that better than most.
“So, what happened, if you don’t mind saying?” she asked.
“At one time I had planned to be a cop.”
One of her brows went up. “And yet you make the best bread I’ve ever eaten in my life. You have a lot of talents, Vic.”
He laughed. “That’s how I know Seth. I’ve been volunteer search and rescue for the county. My team and I were helping some King County Sheriff’s officers find a kid who’d run away from a campsite. There was some Seattle PD crossover and he was there to help when we brought the boy back. Cristian came by with Alexsei and they met.”
“Aw, I love that story. What changed it? I mean from sheriff wannabe to baker? Family expectations?”
He took a deep breath. “You know we had an older brother who died. Danil. We don’t often talk about the how. Anyway, he was supposed to take over for our parents. So I worked there part-time but mainly stepped out of his way. But he was troubled. Sick. Addicted. As he began to fray, it got more and more obvious I’d have to step in full-time.”
The pain of the memories rolled through him. Held back a little by the distance of time.
She took his hand. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”
It wasn’t his shame. But it sure was his pain.
“He robbed a store. For drug money. And got caught. He went to jail. Which was good in that he got clean. But then he was released and he wasn’t clean. Not really.”
She put her head on his shoulder.
“He overdosed before trial. My parents...they fell apart. They were ashamed and felt guilty and responsible. My aunt did all she could. People worked overtime to shoulder the load, but it was necessary for me to commit to running the bakery full-time. Danil was supposed to do it. It was supposed to be his place. But I’m doing it.”
“I’m sorry. What a tragic situation.”
He sighed. “When we were kids he was my protector. Always the life of the party. I guess that should have been a clue. He just didn’t know when to stop. And it killed him and nearly destroyed the family.”
But in the end, it had given Vic a future he’d never imagined. And he’d been part of keeping the family together. He’d learned a lot about himself. About what family truly meant.
“Your parents aren’t the only ones with survivor’s guilt.” A statement.
Vic looked at her carefully. It was cold enough that their breath misted around their faces. The scent of the coffee mixed with the pungent evergreens still lush even in winter.
“That sounds like you might know a thing or two about it,” he said.
It wasn’t that she never spoke of her experience. He knew the basics. But it never went very deep. He never pressed and she never offered. Until then.
“I know what it means to understand one thing and occasionally feel another. I know what it feels like to second-guess every choice. And what it feels like to know some of those choices were bad ones. Did you go to therapy at all?”
“The whole family did a few sessions. Evie had a lot of trouble in school for a while. It happened during her senior year of high school. My parents are very skeptical of therapy in general, but they did agree to attend a few sessions. I wish they’d done more, but they were so reluctant and after a while it turned into a fight every time. And you know, I’d had enough fighting with them. I just wanted them to be happy and be able to get past his death.”
Rachel nodded. “I understand.”
He got the feeling she really did. And something inside him that had been knotted loosened just a little.
“I’m glad, by the way, that I made the choices I did. I enjoy the bakery. I love that it’s a family business and that despite the bickering, we’re all working toward the same goal. I love to see my aunt and my cousins pretty much daily.”
“And it means you bring bread to me. Which is always a plus as far as I’m concerned. And if I fall into a crevasse you can save me.”
He laughed, standing to brush off his butt and begin to put away their impromptu snack. “I will always save you from a crevasse. Not that there are any close. But if we climb Rainier or something, I’ve got you covered.”
She got her pack secured and gave him a face. “That was just talk. I don’t go near crevasses. I love hiking and biking and kayaking and that sort of thing. I don’t go ice camping or do any sort of extreme climbing.”
“I’m sure you’d be really good at it, though.”
“Maybe. But I’ve done enough time in hospitals so I try to avoid more.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m on board with that.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share that story. I’m sorry for all of you. But I’m glad you all had one another to get through,” she said.
“I learned a lot about who I was and who I could be if I tried harder,” he said as he took her hand.
They walked side by side for a while until the trail narrowed and they had to move single file.
“Valentine’s Day is coming up.”
She gave him a glance over her shoulder as she hiked in front of him. “I don’t have any expectations. I mean. This is new and—”
He interrupted her. “This is not new. I’ve known you for years. Alexsei and I were thinking of making you and Maybe a dinner at your house. With chocolate cake for dessert. The recipe is a closely guarded secret and I only break it out for the people who matter most to me.”
Now that she’d let him close he had no intention of sliding back into anything less than true honesty between them. Skittish was fine. Aloof wasn’t.
They made their way back to the parking lot, not talking. But he knew it wasn’t that she was ignoring him, but thinking of a response.
He enjoyed the birdsong until she stopped, turning to face him. “I love chocolate cake. And I love it when people make me food. You have excellent forearms and I like to look at them and your butt when you’re in a kitchen. I’m fairly sure I’d like to watch you bake.”
Her words spilled out, tumbling one after the next and he caught each one.
“You should feel free to come by the bakery when I’m working and I’ll set you up in the corner with a cup of tea and something sweet while you watch me knead dough.”
“Don’t joke. I think I just had an orgasm at that visual.”
He paused at the revelation of another layer of this woman. Then he grinned. “It’s not a joke. Especially after that comment. I’m there pretty much every day we’re open. Otherwise, should you need an orgasm, I’m happy to deliver that as well as dinner.”
She pinkened and he ducked to kiss her.
People came up the trail so they moved to the side as they started back down once more.
* * *
RACHEL WATCHED THE scenery whiz by as he drove. Ideas came often enough that she had her notepad out and began working on a new idea, not realizing how close they were to home until he stopped at a stop sign just three blocks away.
“Would you like to come over?” she asked him.
“Yes. I’ll shower and come over after.”
As her bathroom had a pretty small shower, one that would challenge the width of his shoulders she was sure, she didn’t invite him to share hers.
He dropped her off and waited until she’d unlocked all three locks on the front door and went inside. Where she relocked everything, reset the alarm and toed off her shoes, tucking them into the hall closet before padding into the kitchen, where Alexsei stood at the sink.
Maybe was cleaning up what appeared to be an exploding blender.
“So I thought, how hard could it be to make smoothies? This is why I don’t cook,” Maybe said when she caught sight of Rachel.
“I suggested moderation in the total volume of fruit in the blender,” Alexsei said, making Rachel laugh.
“Maybe thinks moderation is for suckers,” she told him.
“Only when it’s about food. And sex. And sleep,” Maybe added.
“Atta girl. Vic is coming over in a bit so I’m going to clean up from our hike and be back down.”
Of course, Maybe was sitting on her bed after her shower.
“You’re in ambush mode all the time now,” Rachel said as she got changed. “One would think you’d have less time to stalk me like a jungle cat when you have a hot dude in your bed to take to bone town.”
“He sleeps with me. Believe me when I tell you I have a frequent flier card for trips to bone town. Speaking of bone town, I note the very sexy matching underwear you’ve got going on. I like to see you all giddy and sexy and stuff.” Maybe picked up a candle on the nightstand, sniffed it and put it back.
“Did Alexsei tell you about Valentine’s Day?” Rachel asked her.
“He did. It’ll be my first Valentine’s Day with like a for-real boyfriend. I know this is old hat for you but as such things go, it’s pretty cool so far. Except I don’t really know what to get him. What are you going to get Vic?”
“Jesus, Maybe! Now I’m going to be all nervous about it. I have no idea.”
“Well fuck. You’re the expert. What did you get Brad? You lived with him. He was all serious business until he put his penis in someone else while you were in a coma and all.”
Rachel snickered. Leave it to her sister to know just what to say to make her laugh. “Well see, that’s why you shouldn’t ask me for my opinion.”
“I highly doubt he cheated on you because you got him what? A watch or something?”
“I’m sure he’d say so.” Her ex was a total dick. A cheating dick who’d stolen money from their joint account while she was in that coma Maybe had just mentioned. “As for presents, I got him a cashmere sweater once. A watch, but a really nice one he wanted and wasn’t going to shut up about until he got it. And the last one I got him a Coach duffel. All very good gifts. All things he wanted. But I don’t think I’ll give Vic any of those things.”
“Why? He’d look gorgeous in a cashmere sweater.”
“He totally would. But I don’t think those presents would be for Valentine’s Day. I don’t know. It just feels like he’d appreciate a gift that meant something to him.” He struck her that way. Sentimental but not in a negative sense. “I’m going to look around and when I see the right thing it’ll jump out at me. I hope. It’s not like I can bake him something.”
Maybe nodded. “Not that you should complain because that means he will bake for you. And by extension, me. But you did give me good advice just now. I’ve been looking for the right present but I haven’t found it yet. I should be patient.”
“You got him that antique shaving set for Christmas and he loved that. You’re doing fine.”
“Look at us, panicking about Valentine’s Day like adults.” Maybe linked her arm with Rachel’s before heading back downstairs where the commotion signaled Vic’s arrival.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u66359b0c-8c83-5ee8-b02a-95928a6083c1)
“SO,” SHE SAID quietly to Vic as the rest of the house played a round of Guitar Hero.
He turned and pulled her a little closer. “So?”
“You want a tour? Like to see my room?”
“Hell yes.”
She waved discreetly at Maybe who waggled her brows, and then led the way to her side of the house, where her bedroom was.
Once inside, he took a deep breath and then smiled. “I’ve been wondering just what your bedroom would smell like. Jasmine. Like your perfume.”
No other men had been up there. She did her fucking in other people’s houses, or in hotels. This was her space. Her intimate place she made and kept safe. Here she could truly let down her guard and be open.
Vic wasn’t anyone else, though, and she most certainly wanted him all to herself. Wanted him all over her sheets.
He waited for her to set the boundaries. Kept an eye on her and took his cues from that.
There was something comforting and yet sweet about how he was with her. Totally focused on her. Absolutely clear that he wanted more. But he didn’t rush into her space. Not that he wasn’t dominant and charming and didn’t still manage to get his way with that roguish thing he had going on. But he just let her lead in these moments.
Which was perfect.
“You should fuck me,” she said.
“Should I?” He closed the door at his back, leaning against it as he watched her with that smirk.
“Or, I can fuck you. Either way.” She shrugged.
“Hmm. Why don’t we take this step-by-step?”
She whipped off her sweater.
“Or, you could take your shirt off and show me just how fucking gorgeous you are without it. In fact, I’m thinking that’s the better choice,” he murmured.
“Now you,” she said, turning out the overhead lights in favor of her bedside lamp.
She lit some candles while not taking her gaze from him. Not wanting to miss the reveal she was sure was going to be really fantastic.
And when he pulled his shirt up and off, she knew she’d been right. He was beautiful.
“Your body is amazing. I want to lick you,” she murmured as she walked his way.
“I’m available for licking by you at any time. In fact it’s been a recurring fantasy of mine for years.”
He reached out, brushing his fingertips over the curve of her breast where it heaved from the bra she had on. And she was so glad she chose the sexy cute matching stuff instead of her comfy granny panties.
He told her in a voice rough like a caress, “For so long you were right here. So close. I saw you all the time and I had no ability to touch you this way. No ability to make all those fantasies of mine a reality.” He circled her, looking his fill until he stopped behind her. “Oh, your back. Hold still, I want to pet and look.”
He did exactly that. Slowly stroking his hands over her skin until she was all relaxed and tingly.
“This is beautiful.”
“It’s the first tattoo I got.”
From shoulder to shoulder, across her back, a branch with a birdcage hanging from it in gray-and-black dot work. The door open. The bird was on the branch and not in the cage.
Never again with the cage.
“Tell me,” he murmured before kissing the back of her neck.
Not only had it been her first tattoo, it had been her first tattoo design, one of her first drawings in therapy, and that theme had become a central concept in her life.
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Lauren Dane
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: The sweetest reward comes after the longest wait.Vicktor Orlov took one look at one look at the wary gaze and slow to trust personality of the deliciously sexy and fascinating Rachel Dolan and knew he wanted more than just a casual friendship. But as a natural protector, he also knew bossiness and overprotective maneuvering would push her away. He’ll use every tool in his easygoing, laidback arsenal to convince her to take a chance on them.Rachel’s flourishing new career as a tattoo artist has brought color back into a life previously damaged by violence. She knows she can trust Vic, it’s herself she’s not sure of. She doesn’t want to be caged or controlled, protected so much she had no ability to make her own choices. And damn if the man doesn’t know it.When Vic finally drops all pretenses of “just friends” and focuses all his careful affection and irresistible seduction on her, Rachel knows she’s falling hard for the laid back pretty boy Russian she’d discovered had a relentlessly steel spine when it came to her.And she can’t resist.