The sharpest ache comes from wanting what you think you can’t have…

Maybe Dolan has lived independent, free-spirited and unattached since leaving home at sixteen. Whiskey Sharp, Seattle’s sexy vintage-styled barbershop and whiskey bar, gave her a job—and a reason to put down roots. Cutting hair by day, losing herself drumming in a punk rock band by night, she’s got it good…but a longtime crush that turns into a hot, edgy night with brooding and bearded Alexsei Petrov makes it a hell of a lot better.

Maybe’s blunt attitude and carnal smile hooked Alexsei from the start. Protecting people is part of his nature and Maybe is meant to be his…even if she doesn’t know it. Yet. He can’t help himself from wanting to protect and care for her.

But Maybe’s fiery, independent spirit means pushing back when Alexsei goes too far. Still, he’s not afraid to do a little pushing of his own to get what he wants—her in his life, and his bed, for good. Maybe’s more intoxicating than all the liquor on his shelf…and he’s not afraid to ride the blade’s edge to bind her to him.

Available from Lauren Dane and HQN Books

The Best Kind of Trouble

Broken Open

Back to You

Coming soon from Lauren Dane and HQN Books

Whiskey Sharp: Jagged

Whiskey Sharp: Torn

Also available from Lauren Dane and Carina Press

Second Chances

Believe

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

Goddess with a Blade series

Goddess with a Blade

Blade to the Keep

Blade on the Hunt

At Blade’s Edge

Cherchez Wolf Pack series

Wolf’s Ascension

Sworn to the Wolf

And from Lauren Dane and Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Harlequin

Cake

Whiskey Sharp: Unraveled

Lauren Dane

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08231-0

WHISKEY SHARP: UNRAVELED

© 2018 Lauren Dane

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 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.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Praise for New York Times bestselling author Lauren Dane

“A romance that is utterly captivating, seductive and full of the kind of raw emotion and sensuality that has made this series such a winner.”

—RT Book Reviews on Back to You (Top Pick)

“Dane continues to evolve, and this strong, widely appealing, and memorable story will gain new readers while satisfying fans.”

—Booklist on Broken Open

“Most remarkable is the fierce power of Dane’s uniquely confident heroine, whose strength gives this story power... Dane’s mastery of her characters and their emotional complexity shines, making it a book fans will savor.”

—RT Book Reviews on Broken Open (4 stars)

“The perfect combination of sexy rock-star fantasy and emotionally tender romance.”

—Kirkus Reviews on The Best Kind of Trouble

“A fabulous start to a sexy new series, the Hurley Brothers series introduces us to rock star brothers who would tempt the most resistant of readers. Ms. Dane’s new book features a charming hero in hot pursuit, a strong, smart heroine and smokin’ hot love scenes. The Best Kind of Trouble is the best kind of reading.”

—Dear Author

“The Best Kind of Trouble is a great example of what Lauren Dane is known for—strong family ties and confident characters with an extra touch of sexiness for good measure!”

—Fresh Fiction

“A book that leaves you simmering for more from start to finish.”

—Books of Love on The Best Kind of Trouble

This one is for my father.

The most important thing I wrote in 2016 was my father’s obituary.

His death came suddenly and unexpectedly, and months later, his absence hits me every day in some new way. I write about family and create family a lot because I truly value it. And I value it because my dad was the best. At every major moment in my entire life, he was there. He told everyone about his daughter and whatever thing I’d done that he was proud of. He was an excellent grandfather. My kids are so fortunate to have had him as their poppa.

He was old-school. The oldest son of immigrants. Even into his seventies he called people Sir and Ma’am. He opened doors for people and gave up his seat. When I was eleven, he gave medical aid to a heatstroke victim in the parking lot of the LA County Fair. He was taciturn and could be gruff, but he was an absolute fool for babies and animals. He was my number one fan and my touchstone. When he paid attention to you, you knew he heard everything you said, though he would steal your food if you turned your back, and you never left your iced tea unmonitored if he was around.

Sure, he had flaws, like all humans. But the fact that he wasn’t my biological father wasn’t one of them. He came into my life when I was just four and he was every bit my dad.

I’ll miss him every single day, but damn, I’m so grateful I had him.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Praise

Dedication

AUTHOR NOTE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Extract

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

AUTHOR NOTE

THERE IS NO actual Bootleggers’ Building. I took the history of the area and took a little literary license to create it for Whiskey Sharp to live in. Pioneer Square, the part of downtown Seattle I set the book in, is real though, as is the Underground Tour.

CHAPTER ONE

Two years ago

THE OLD-FASHIONED RED, white and blue barber pole lazily spun inside a glass case just outside the front door to Whiskey Sharp. Jaunty, she thought. A good sign. Classic and simple.

The bell over the door jingled as she opened it and stepped inside, greeted by the scent of sandalwood and mint. Scissors snipped and clippers hummed and it felt very much like a place she’d like to stop and stay awhile.

A broad-shouldered gent with a vest and a crisp white button-down shirt came over. “Welcome to Whiskey Sharp. You in for a cut?”

“I’m actually looking for Alexsei Petrov.”

Broad Shoulders gave her a slow head-to-toe look. “He’s just finishing up. He’s booked today, so if you want him to do your cut, we can get you in tomorrow.”

“I don’t need a cut, thanks. I just need a few minutes of his time. Irena Orlova sent me.”

Broad Shoulders relaxed at the mention of Mrs. Orlova’s name. “Okay. Just hang out here for a bit. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Maybe thanked him and moved to the small waiting area near the windows, taking in the space as she tried not to be nervous.

Whiskey Sharp was all wood and brass. An old-school barbershop area was off to the right with individual chairs and stations. Guys with tattoos and suspenders worked on men from their early twenties into their fifties.

The floor was hardwood. Oak, by the looks of it, well-worn to a shine near the doorways and points that got a lot of traffic.

And in the back, opposite the barbershop space, there was a long bar with stools fronting it. She’d heard the place had just started serving alcohol in the evenings for several hours. Small tables and a few group seating areas dotted the space in deep forest green velvet and cognac tanned leather.

Old-school. And yet very clean and elegant. The kind of place you could hang out in and relax a little.

Somehow, seeing it like that, with all the beauty in the deliberate choices made in decorating and the feel of the workers in the place, her nervousness seemed to ebb.

She could do this. She knew her way around a haircut and shave. She just had to convince Mrs. Orlova’s nephew of the same.

* * *

ALEXSEI TOOK HER IN, silhouetted by the pale afternoon light shafting across the generous lines of her face. A silver hoop rode against the juicy curve of her bottom lip.

Red lipstick, short blond hair and green eyes behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. Black trousers with a white button-down shirt, a lot like what he wore most days. But she smelled better, he’d wager. The piercing provided an edge, but at the same time it softened her, emphasized the shape of her mouth.

Brought his breath a little short as he watched her, noting the strength in her presence, a confidence that seemed to shine from her.

He paused, continuing to look. It wasn’t that she was beautiful—though she was certainly arresting in her own way. Alexsei couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was absolutely sure he’d never seen anything quite like her before. This creature who’d come to him using his aunt’s name.

He had no idea what she wanted, but he had no problem spending the time with her to investigate.

“I’m Alexsei. You wanted to see me?” He attempted to keep a cool distance, but something about her pulled him closer.

She held a hand out. “I’m Maybe Dolan. I hear you’re looking for a barber and I’d like to solve your problem.”

He started to reply but she just kept talking.

“See, I know you’re probably thinking, hey, who is this woman? I haven’t even advertised for that opening. And you’d be right because you don’t know me. But I know Mrs. Orlova and while she was busily shoving extra loaves of bread into my order, she told me to present myself to you and for you to hire me. You’ve met her, so you know how she is. Frankly, I’m really afraid of her but she’s the main supplier of my carbs so I tend to just follow her orders.”

Alexsei was fairly certain she said all that without taking a breath.

“Right?” she asked, as if he’d exclaimed it aloud instead of in his head. “I do talk a lot. But I’m good with hair. And beards. And I need a job.”

“Why?”

“Which one are you asking about?” She cocked her head, nearly eye to eye with him. Tall. Close-up, that energy she seemed to radiate from her enveloped him too.

True, she did seem the type to develop a good clientele if she had the talent for it. Some people liked that sort of personality when they came in.

She pushed at the hoop in her lip with the tip of her tongue—an unconscious nervous movement—and he realized he liked it way more than he should have. Especially if he was going to give her a job.

“All of them. While you’re at it, what kind of name is Maybe?”

She laughed. “Maybe is a nickname but one I’ve used instead of my given name since I was four.”

There had to be a story for that.

“As for why I talk so much. Well, I’m sorry to tell you it’s not a nervous habit or anything like that so it won’t go away once I get used to you. This is pretty much how I roll all the time. My sister likes to tell people I talk a lot because I have a lot to say. I think that’s the same as when a teacher tells you your kid is spirited instead of wild. I was a spirited kid, as you probably have a really hard time believing.”

Alexsei realized she was teasing him and he began to like her, despite his general inclination to find most people annoying.

But this...Maybe, well she held him, fascinated at whatever she might do or say next.

She grinned at him. “What else did I need to answer? Uh? Oh yeah, I’m good with hair and beards because that’s what I’ve been trained in and because I’m awesome, but you can keep that under your hat. I’m also good at punk rock. But I don’t think the latter is necessary for the former. Except in attitude. In attitude, punk rock is always necessary, don’t you agree?”

This was, again, one of her rhetorical questions. She didn’t even pause for two breaths before she continued, “I’m licensed in the state and I have references and all that. And I need a job because that’s how people pay their bills usually.”

His place tended to be mellow. This creature was not mellow. What would bringing her in do to the overall feel of the place? Sure, some clients would like that, but would some dislike it?

“What happened to your last job?” He assumed she talked them to death.

She took a deep breath and he saw a flash of vulnerability in her gaze before she straightened her shoulders. “I moved here. From another place, Spokane, I mean.”

Alexsei needed to shoot this down. There was something cagey about her. But if Irena had sent her, she would have already been judged trustworthy. His aunt would never allow anyone this close to his life if there’d been any doubt.

It also probably meant her reasons for moving to Seattle were to help someone else. His aunt loved a hard-luck case.

“You can call my boss. Obviously.” She pulled him back from his thoughts.

“I just don’t know if we really need to hire anyone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t need anyone. You need me.” She lost her teasing edge. “Here’s the deal. I need the job. I really need the benefits. Because you know, they’re awesome. Like me, remember?”

“How do you know these details?” He crossed his arms over his chest but she wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

“Your accent comes out when you get imperious. Did you know that?”

He managed to suppress one of the annoyed sounds he’d learned from his mother as he’d grown up.

Barely.

“Mrs. Orlova told me about the benefits cooperative you and several other businesses share and that are available to the folks who work out of Whiskey Sharp. She also said she’d let you know I was coming.”

“We don’t really have an opening. I was just spitballing, as you say. She overheard me.” Which was nicer than saying his aunt had been eavesdropping.

“You don’t have a single female barber here. That’s lame.” She arched a brow at him. Again, he opened and closed his mouth, caught between curiosity and surprise.

“I can ask around to see if anyone I know is looking for someone.” There. He’d help her for his aunt without hiring her.

“Is it a purposeful thing?”

“What?”

She cocked her head—she did that a lot—as she gestured at the shop. “No women here. Is that on purpose and design? To say hey dudes, this is a space just for us? And whatever, as cliché as an idea as that might be, I get it. I was just under the impression you wanted a shop with excellent barbers.”

Just at his back, he heard one of his barbers snicker.

“Look, I need a job. You need me here,” she repeated.

“Why?”

She frowned but her bottom lip still looked really good. “So is this your thing? Your answers all being why or what?”

Alexsei only barely refrained from glancing around for an avenue of escape. He hadn’t failed to notice that no one had appeared to save him, the cowards.

“Why do you want to work here? At my shop?”

“It’s near my sister’s apprenticeship. Why don’t you let me show you what I can do? I’ll give a cut and a shave. Check my work yourself.”

It was the tone of her voice when she’d brought up the detail about her sister that had done it. Maybe was a curious creature, but the steel in her voice told him she put her family obligations first and he respected that. Coupled with the way his aunt had sent her his way, he figured maybe an audition of sorts might be all right.

If she did a good job he could toss her some work. Perhaps.

“Come back tomorrow morning at ten. You can show me what you’ve got then.” He scowled at her but she flashed him a grin, heading toward the door.

“Thank you!” She dashed out without another word.

“What the hell was that?” Stu asked as Alexsei went to the coatrack near the front door.

“Trouble, most likely.” He shrugged. “We’ll see how she does tomorrow.” Contrary to her question about the lack of women in his shop, it wasn’t by design. It just had worked out that way. Yes, in some barbershops, the absence of women was on purpose. Sometimes because of outrageous sexism—more than he liked—other times a sense of tradition had rendered a shop as more of a club for men. Neither was his style.

Strong women were the foundation on which the life he lived was built. He loved and respected them. Feared some of them too. Including his aunt. He needed to go talk with her about this. He could call, but she’d see it as disrespect given that she was just a five-minute walk away.

“I’ve got forty minutes until my next client. I’m going to drop over to the bakery, but I’ll be back in time,” he called as he left.

Orlov Family Bakery had been a safe place for him for the entire time he’d lived in the United States. The front windows were slightly steamed and when he stepped inside it was to be greeted by the scent of everything wonderful. Bread, cookies and cakes, spiced with black tea and fruit.

There was a line, but he skipped around it and headed to the kitchen, where he knew his aunt would be working.

“Good morning to you, Irishka.” He kissed her cheek.

She snorted at his use of the diminutive of her name, but he won a smile from her. “You’re here because of the girl.” Irena kneaded the dough with workstrong arms as she looked him over.

His aunt had been as much a mother to him as his own had been. More, if he was to be brutally honest about it.

“So tell me why you sent the very talkative Ms. Dolan to my shop.”

“Have a cup of tea while I tell you. With a slice of sharlotka. You need to keep your energy for the rest of the day.” She ordered this without even looking up, totally assured he would obey.

And why wouldn’t he? He poured himself a cup of tea but skipped the apple cake she’d suggested for some pyraniki instead.

“She and her sister moved in to the house next door to ours about a month ago. They’re lovely. Her sister, she’s older than Maybe, was in the hospital for quite a long time recovering from something terrible to do with her old job. She used to flinch if we came outside when she was in her yard. Or if she came home and we were in the driveway. She doesn’t flinch anymore.”

Alexsei frowned before finishing the rest of his cookie.

“You said to me this shop of yours was already booked every day and you wanted to add another person. Here she is. Maybe—a silly name for a child—is a hard worker. You can tell this from how the house is kept. So I sent her your way.”

He had a very difficult time imagining her in a home that his aunt would be impressed by. His aunt liked a very clean, orderly house and he would have thought Maybe would live in a place full of piles of colorful clothing and stacks of paper.

“It’s simple enough. Give her a job.” She made a sound that told him the conversation was over.

He wasn’t going to argue. It would have been pointless anyway. “Thank you for the tea.” Alexsei washed out his mug, placing it back on the shelf where he kept it for his frequent visits to her kitchen. “I’ll let you know how she works out.”

“Take some food back to your shop.” She shooed him with a wave of her hand toward the big butcher-block table in the center of the room.

CHAPTER TWO

Now

MAYBE STROLLED IN, waving to Josh and Alexsei, who were leisurely setting up for the day. Interpol played over the speakers. A band she’d forever associate with her boss. And friend.

Impossible as it had been to imagine that day two years ago when she’d practically begged for the job, she’d created something like a family with these guys.

Whiskey Sharp felt like home now. As much as the house she shared with her sister. Whiskey Sharp had the added incentive of really gorgeous, incredibly well-dressed dudes who frequently brought her baked goods and caffeine in all its forms like they were warriors returned from the field bringing tribute.

It didn’t suck to have her job.

One of the aforementioned gorgeous dudes in particular caught her attention. Or. Well. Pretty much had dominated her attention since the first day two years before when she’d rolled in to Whiskey Sharp and charm-groveled herself into a job.

Alexsei Petrov was hot-damn-absolutely-delicious.

His shirtsleeves were folded up carefully over some seriously fantastic forearms as he slid a soft cloth over all the wood in the shop. Caressing it. Later, he’d use old-fashioned arm garters to keep his sleeves out of the way while he was with clients.

A very well-trimmed beard that never ceased to make her a little tingly went perfectly with the well-trimmed hair the color of caramel. Glints of auburn and mahogany showed themselves if he was in the sunshine, or on those occasions she got her hands into it when she gave him a cut.

Taciturn, though not nearly as bad as he’d been when she’d first met him. Still, he tended toward one-word answers, snarls, eyebrow raises and glares to get his communicating done. And she was beginning to believe he loved to poke at her with each one of those things.

Over the last several months especially, it had felt a lot like foreplay.

Which she was trying not to think about too much because if she did she’d have to tell herself not to flirt with him or let their chemistry get any better because she wanted to make really bad choices with him.

A lot.

He turned after placing the cloth back into a drawer and latched those chocolate-brown eyes of his on her. Held her there as he took her in.

Intense. So much more intense than she ever really found attractive and yet there she was with her pink parts doing the forbidden dance anyway.

Maybe swallowed and found her sass enough to get herself back under control. She was a badass, not some simpering newbie!

“Good day to you, fine gentlemen.” She held a bag aloft. “I come bearing cookies and a loaf of black bread with salmon your aunt insists must be eaten immediately because it will never taste better than now.”

“I’ve booked your three p.m. slot,” Alexsei told her as he passed, snatching the food. “You will eat before you cut my hair and give me a shave.”

He didn’t even ask.

He—along with pretty much his entire family—had a thing about feeding Rachel and Maybe both. It was their way of expressing, well, pretty much everything.

Alexsei was also really bossy. And he expressed all his bossiness on what he considered taking care of the people he considered his.

She’d become one of those people. As had her sister, by extension.

Maybe grabbed her tea mug before heading over to the bar area. He saw her moving his way and rumbled his approval.

Rumbled. Like a fucking bear and yet she really dug it. His accent did such crazy, really dirty things to her too. The whole package just drove her totally and utterly crazy.

“My cousin Gregori brought it back from London.” He held a bright red tin of tea aloft a moment. “Just finished brewing.”

He took her mug to pour for her, the muscles in his hands and forearms flexing as he did.

Honestly, she should have felt bad for the super filthy things such a simple task made her feel, but she couldn’t. However, up until recently, he’d been in a two-year relationship. Add the fact that he was her boss and she’d been able to admire from a distance and keep him firmly in fantasy-fuck land.

Until about eight months ago when he’d broken off with his fiancée. And for about six months after that he’d drowned himself in a steady diet of cow-eyed women who showed up around closing time to moon at him.

He’d taken them home. Way more than Maybe would have preferred, which to be honest was not at all.

Essentially, he’d fucked a lot of pretty women, went out with his friends and had, from what she could see, worked most of the need to party out of his system. And had, over the last two months or so, calmed that frenetic schedule considerably.

Not wanting to think about him being with other women for another second, Maybe dropped two sugar cubes into her freshly poured tea and grabbed a few of the pyraniki. The little anise spice cookies were perfect with tea.

“You should have the salmon too.” He tipped his chin toward the fish he’d already piled on a thick slice of bread.

“I had some earlier with your aunt. She ambushed me with fish and bread, which I then shared with her, because hello manners. That sounds like a complaint, but truly, it’s an awesome way to start my workday. She’s a food ninja.”

He smiled slightly.

He’d decided about a year before that he liked the way she did his hair best and had announced that to her. It had meant no one else touched his head. Not that the other barbers weren’t relieved. He was a particular guy who liked to back seat drive everything, including his own haircuts and shaves.

It never got to her. Instead she found herself charmed by it over and over. Like he was so outraged every single being in the universe didn’t bow to his whim.

Adorable.

She kept trying to talk him into some funky streaks but he’d only stared at her without speaking until she’d rolled her eyes.

Gruff. But really, under that crusty exterior, there was a soft heart and a vein of compassion she’d seen over and over.

One by one, the other barbers began to come in as the quiet had eased into a more laid-back sort of bustle. Clients filled the space in waves. She loved how the energy of the shop could change so much just from who was inside at any given moment. Bikers, bankers, artists, a few lawyers, lots of office workers and folks who wandered in from off the busy streets in Pioneer Square.

They filled Whiskey Sharp with their own flair and flavor and it was truly one of the most fun parts of her job to be part of that daily ebb and flow.

* * *

VICKTOR ORLOV, IRENA’S SON, the guy who ran the bakery and one of what seemed like a dozen of Alexsei’s cousins, strolled in, placing a cup of coffee on her worktable on his way past.

“Thanks, handsome.”

“You’re welcome.” He hung up his coat and eased into Alexsei’s chair just across the way from hers.

“Is this your way of asking a favor?” She gave him a grin as she held up the cup. “Not that it’ll stop me from drinking it or anything. I’m just curious.”

“You don’t trust me?” Even when he frowned Vic was beautiful. “I’m simply here to watch you cut his hair. He’s like a cranky bear. What can I say? I’m easily amused.”

Beautiful, but a shit stirrer nonetheless. As it was generally good-natured, most people were amused by him rather than annoyed, which was a good thing.

“Alexsei just finished up with someone and disappeared for a moment. He’ll be back soon so you’ll be smart to stay out of arm’s reach.”

Vic smirked and she withheld her eye roll. The two of them were like brothers with the constant bickering and deep loyalty they had with one another. So weird, but she and Rachel could be very similar at times.

Maybe remembered there was a voice mail waiting from one of her parents and then shoved it to the back of her mind. It wasn’t time to let herself get upset over it.

She was at work. This place was her refuge. None of that crap came through the door with her and she liked it that way.

Alexsei, wearing a dour expression, headed over and flopped into her chair. “I’m ready.” He said it with the gravity of a man headed to surgery or something life threatening.

“You act like I’m going to cut you and then squeeze lemon on it.” Jeez, the big baby.

“It’s not that.” Whatever stern lecture she was about to get got sidetracked when he caught sight of what was in her hands. “Do you think those clippers? You can use mine.”

After setting the clippers down, she whipped the drape out with a snap to underline who was in charge just then. “I hate your clippers. That was your one and only free complaint. Last time you owed me enough to take my sister out to her favorite steak place. So keep on whining.”

Maybe set the jar she kept for such occasions on the table next to her coffee. It said Complaints: $10 and she strictly enforced it when Alexsei was in her chair.

He pursed his lips and she adjusted the clippers before giving him a smile in the mirror.

“I should get a free one because I’m speaking of Rada. She’s broken yet another phone and she wants me to go with her to buy a replacement.”

Maybe took a deep breath but kept a tsunami of annoyance reserved just for his ex-girlfriend deep inside where she pretended it didn’t exist.

“You look like you have a stomachache.” Vic smirked again. “Granted, Rada makes me feel like that too. Why do you even entertain this?” he asked Alexsei. “She’s got a new boyfriend. Why isn’t he doing this stuff?”

No shit. Maybe wished she knew too. Because one thing was clear and that was Alexsei had moved on. Months and months ago. And with at least four different women, not that she was counting. His ex was clingy and needy as hell and it made her teeth hurt.

But it was more of a matter of the way she’d just been used to him doing everything for her. Him or her damned family always picking up after her. Taking care of her like she was a toddler.

And none of it was her business. Maybe reminded herself of this fact over and over.

It was better that way. Something else she kept telling herself.

The men spoke back and forth in Russian until she flicked the back of Alexsei’s ear. He growled, but then apologized.

She’d learned enough Russian to understand when they were talking about a woman. But she couldn’t tell—because their Russian was rapid-fire—just exactly what.

“I can’t believe he lets you get away with that. He punched me in the chest the last time I flicked his ear.” Vic was on a roll.

“I’ll come flick your ear too if you don’t stop talking in another language in a clear bid to keep me from knowing the topic. So rude.” Her expression was prim.

“Always with the fancy talk.” Alexsei sighed and waved a lazy hand as she started to work.

“My parents would disagree that anything about me is fancy, especially the way I speak.”

She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but she kept her focus on hair and not the men around her, who’d gone even more quiet than usual.

Still, she knew he looked up to catch her eyes in the mirror’s reflection, even as she continued to keep her attention on her work because this wasn’t the time or place for that discussion.

The tools in her hands always kept her centered. In a way that nothing other than sex and music had been able to do.

“It makes me nervous when you’re quiet,” Alexsei said after another few minutes.

Surprised, Maybe let herself look up to snag his gaze in the mirror. A zing of chemistry hit her in her gut. And lower.

His mouth did this thing where one corner lifted and an honest-to-God dimple popped out, even through his magnificent beard. Even his goddamn dimple was bossy and couldn’t be bothered letting itself be hidden.

It shouldn’t get her hot. Dominant men like Alexsei were so not her type. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. Enough that it had driven her to run away at sixteen.

But when it came from Alexsei, it flipped her switch. Perhaps it was because he was dominant but not heavy-handed. Or maybe it was the accent. Whatever it was. It worked.

She had to clear her throat and focus on her hands again or she would actually screw up and he’d never let her hear the end of it. “I was concentrating. You’ve got a very low opinion of haircuts that aren’t absolutely perfect.”

“What sort of person has a high opinion of bad haircuts?” He made a little growly sound of disapproval that raised the temperature a few degrees. In her pants.

“You get mad at the weirdest stuff, man.” Vic just shook his head.

“They call it having standards. You should try it.” Alexsei sniffed but never moved. He had a lot of discipline that way.

Maybe brushed the back of his neck to get rid of stray hairs before circling to get a look at his face. “Why don’t you schedule shaves for first thing in the day?”

“I have to pick someone up from the airport later.”

“Your mom?” Maybe indicated he lean his head back. What she knew about Alexsei’s mother had mainly come from Irena. Alexsei’s aunt loved her little sister, but it was pretty clear she disapproved of the way Alexsei and his siblings had been parented before the boys showed up on her doorstep.

Then again, Irena disapproved of a lot of things. Most things. It just made Maybe and Rachel feel special that, for whatever reason, their neighbors had adopted them into their little circle.

It would suck large if Irena didn’t like you.

He grunted his assent to her question. “Her plane arrives in a few hours. No sandalwood while she’s here. She doesn’t like it.”

He’d never told her not to use a certain product before to save the preferences of anyone else. On one hand, she liked it that he cared about what his mother thought. And it wasn’t applied to a date, also good. But she heard the vulnerability there under the domineering tone. Which meant he could get hurt and she disliked that.

He was very crunchy on the outside, but he had a soft center. It was a poorly kept secret that pleased her to no end.

She hoped very much that his mother understood how blessed she was to have sons like hers as well as a sister who’d raised them when she decided to send them halfway across the world in their teens while she stayed back in Russia.

Maybe held up a deep blue jar. “Smells like the ocean. Many of my clients like it. Want to try?”

His frown made her snicker.

“I have unscented product too. Let’s use that.” She liked to use her fingertips to massage in the pre-shave oil. It enabled her to be more precise. And she liked to touch Alexsei when he was relaxed and at her mercy. He was always on. Always ready to spring to protect, handle or direct someone.

But in her chair, she got to pamper him a little.

Once she’d gotten the hot towel on, she left him for a moment as she sucked down some coffee.

“I’ll stick around until close tonight. That way you can get your mom settled in and not worry,” she told him.

“Too long for you to be here. I’ll come back just before ten. She’ll most likely be sleeping anyway,” he said once she’d taken the towel away. It wasn’t as if he was at Whiskey Sharp every moment of every business day anyway, but she knew he liked to know what was happening and if he was out with his mother, he’d be thinking about it.

But he had other employees, including their shop manager, who handled both the barbershop and the bar when it came to opening and closing and that sort of stuff.

And really, it wasn’t as if anyone could make the man do something he already had his mind set against.

“If you’re sure. Otherwise, call me and I’ll handle it. I’m having dinner down here anyway.”

He was tense under her hands once she’d gotten him lathered up.

“Hot date?” Vic asked.

She shrugged. “I hope so. It’s the third date. That’s a big one.”

Vic laughed.

“Why are you laughing? What is a big one?” Alexsei demanded.

“Dude, stop moving. Relax for heaven’s sake.” She held the razor’s edge away from his skin until he settled again.

“It’s a sex thing,” Vic told him.

“Not really.” She sniffed. Annoyed, though she knew he hadn’t meant it to be offensive. She hated the idea that women held on to their pink parts to get something from men. Like she needed to wait until three dates? If she wanted to fuck, she’d fuck. And it didn’t matter if it was the first date or the fifteenth. It was about her connection and trust level with that other person.

She went on, “To be more specific, it’s a schedule of consideration. By the third date I’m thinking about whether a guy is double-digit date material.”

Though he held very still as she worked on his throat, he still growled. “And if he is? What then?”

“That’s just another level of commitment. Like is he a dude I date while dating other people too? Is he a long-term guy I date and have sex with but I can’t really see myself married or serious? Or, will he be that person I finally see forever with?”

“Women have a very serious checklist,” Vic said.

“I’m old enough to know what I want and not be ashamed of it,” she said. “But relationships only work if both parties are on the same page after a certain point.”

* * *

ALEXSEI HOPED SHE wasn’t done yet because there’s no way he could have stood without the entire shop knowing she turned him on.

Her fingers massaging oil and then shaving cream into his skin, the way she bent close as she scraped the straight razor over his beard. He could smell her skin. And her hair. Currently fire-engine red, it also smelled like apples.

He’d been staring at her pulse point just below her ear. Her heart beat so fast he could see her skin jump. And that’s when it hit him that it was time to stop messing around and ask her out.

More accurately, he’d been craving her more and more each day until the point where it was impossible for him to ignore. He’d woken up that morning in a bed in a house that didn’t belong to him. House-sitting had kept a roof over his head since he’d moved out of the place he and Rada had shared. And he’d been able to save up a decent amount for a down payment on a place of his own. Once he decided to look, at any rate.

But he’d woken up thinking of her. After he’d gone to bed thinking of her, wondering where she’d been and what she’d been up to. He’d lain there, sleep slowly leaving him, but the sense of needing her hadn’t.

Plain and simple, he’d come to a place where if he didn’t pursue her, he’d be lying to them both.

Then she’d brought up that date she had later. A year ago he’d have had a pang of jealousy. Wondering what if he’d ever given in to his attraction to the strange woman who worked in his shop.

A year ago he’d still been trying to make his relationship with Rada work though they’d both given up by that point and were just going through the motions.

Now that he’d settled in to life after that engagement had finally been broken in public—they’d broken up privately three months before that—there was a lot more than a pang.

He hated the idea of Maybe being with anyone else. Hated the thought of this date she was going to being the one she decided to give this other man a chance to be with her.

Hated, too, that if she ended up with someone right then, it would have been his own damned fault for not just making his move months before.

But he’d been antsy. Needed to roam a little. To turn over in his head whether or not he wanted to be serious with anyone at all, despite his craving for Maybe.

And for a while, he’d led with his dick and had enjoyed himself that way.

But he always turned his attention back to her. Over and over and finally he’d realized he was done fucking around and needed to pay attention to his feelings about her to see if they were worth investigating further.

Not his type, or what he’d always thought was his type until he’d met her. Perhaps it was more a measure of that, the fact that no one was like her. Maybe never shut up. At first he’d been stunned by it, but over time, he tended to have better days when she was working than when she was off. Whiskey Sharp was too quiet without his little bird flitting around, chirping and chattering.

She was the heart of the shop. Like an annoying little sister who managed to keep them all in line.

Except for him. He had absolutely no brotherly feelings about her whatsoever.

First things first, he had to deal with this visit from his mother and the resulting fallout among his family. Then he’d turn his energy and focus to seeing if he could nudge Maybe into a date or two. See if he could get himself into double-digit territory.

His mother was arriving from New York in just a few hours. She’d been in New Jersey with her new husband, who’d gone back to Moscow.

Alexsei wasn’t a fool. He knew she was only coming because his aunt had guilted her into it. His younger brother had recently bought a house with his partner. They hadn’t told her about the purchase yet and had asked Alexsei if he’d be there when they did.

He would always be at his brother’s side. Especially to protect him from whatever mayhem his mother brought into their lives.

The following night they had a big dinner planned at Irena’s house, where this would all take place. He only hoped his mother reacted well. For his brother’s sake.

And deep down inside, maybe he wanted his mother to see how far her children had come, how much they’d grown, and be proud.

Maybe finished up and her work, as always, was exemplary. It gave him a bit more confidence about the next few days. A small control, but one that was all about something he could do.

The heaviness of what he might be facing that night and over the next few days had killed his hard-on, but it twitched back to life when she slid the palm of her hand down the center of his chest, straightening his tie and adjusting his vest just exactly the way he preferred.

“I don’t know a single mother who could look at this man and not be proud. You’re so handsome.” She grinned and then turned to clean up her station.

He risked one long look from the heels of her boots, up long, denim-clad legs, across her shoulders where the tip of her ponytail hung.

When his mother left, he’d need to circle back to this developing thing between him and Maybe. The time had come to finally make that move or risk losing his chance forever.

CHAPTER THREE

BEFORE SHE WENT HOME, she needed to return the call she’d been dreading. So she sat in her car and, noting that it wasn’t quite nine yet, called her parents back.

“Hi, Dad. Returning your call from earlier. What’s going on?” Maybe tried to keep her tone light. Wanting to keep the mood positive instead of the negative it generally ran to after a few moments with them.

For a year or so after the kidnapping, they had a reasonably civil relationship but it’d begun to deteriorate fairly soon after that. She just wanted it to get back to bland civility, damn it.

“Thanksgiving is coming,” he clipped out.

“Yeah, in just three or so weeks.”

“Three weeks exactly.” Naturally he had to correct her. “Your mother would like Rachel, and you, at the table for such an important family holiday.”

The “and you” part brought a sigh to her chest, but she let it go. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know they had all this difficulty between them. Also family holiday? Puhleeze. She’d never even been invited to a holiday with her parents since the age of sixteen. Not until she and Rachel had moved to Seattle and bought their house did they find it within them to include her for anything at all, much less holidays.

“I’ll talk to Rachel about it and get back to you.” Rachel had enough experience with other people making her choices for a lifetime so Maybe wasn’t going to agree without talking to her first.

She went out of her way to give her sister the reins of her life. So that Rachel made her own decisions. That sort of independence was a necessary step to the life she had to build for herself since she got out of the hospital.

“She does what you tell her to. Tell her to come to her parents’ house at Thanksgiving.”

This time she didn’t hide her sigh. Sometimes, though they adored Rachel, they really didn’t seem to know her at all. They acted as if she was fragile, but to Maybe it felt more like they wanted it to look that way, but really, they were desperate to take over. To explain away the things Rachel had done as something someone else influenced her over. So they could swoop in and control her every move.

They still treated her as if her medical situation was precarious. Constantly bringing it up. Going out of their way to baby her.

Instead of making Rachel feel safe, it made her feel constricted and weak. Helpless to guide her own fate.

Rachel needed to be her own life’s captain and they didn’t see it as anything but some phase Maybe brought on for her own manipulative reasons.

And they didn’t know Maybe at all, damn it.

Bitterness surged, even as she tried to pretend it didn’t matter they believed she’d be capable of anything to cause deliberate harm to Rachel.

“She’s a grown woman who makes her own choices. I’ll let her know she’s invited.”

“Just get your life out of the bar for five minutes and put someone else first for once in your life,” he said.

The tone he used in private with her, a hard, mean voice full of disdain was so totally different than how he spoke to Rachel. It still startled Maybe after a lifetime of hearing it.

It sent her back to a time when she didn’t have any choices. When she’d been far more helpless than she was now.

It was that knowledge, despite the pain of his treatment, that gave her the nonchalance to bat away his nasty swipe. “You have a fantastic night,” she said right before ending the call.

Boy oh boy, what a night it’d been. Horrible date with horrible, slightly paranoid dude and then a slap fight with her dad. All before 10:00 p.m.

Maybe started the car and headed home.

* * *

“VIC TOTALLY HAS a thing for you,” Maybe told her sister as she walked into the kitchen. She’d tell her about the phone call once she’d stuffed some food into her face.

“I don’t know why you’re not too busy to be up in my lady business.” Her sister’s dry response made Maybe smile.

“Because he’s so cute, Rach. And he has great hands and he smells good. Today he smelled like cinnamon rolls. Imagine that. He’s like a lifetime source of carbs. Take one for the team. Jeez.”

Years of iron-fisted lessons meant she hung her coat up in the hall closet and placed her bag on a nearby hook before cruising back into the kitchen to see what was in the fridge.

“Selfish is my middle name,” Rachel said as she set her sketchbook aside. “Since you’re digging around in there, I’m guessing the date wasn’t good?”

Maybe sighed. “He looked at his phone at least a third of the time. So I asked him if everything was all right and then he got all pissy about my asking. Said I was accusing. Which uh, no I was thinking an emergency or whatever. But once he’d said all that I was guessing he was up to something shady or had a huge anger management issue, so I was like, okay then, and got out of there before the food even got to the table.”

“Dreadful. There’s pizza. I brought it home from the shop.”

Since she was busily eating a slice of that pizza, Maybe just grunted her thanks as she put another piece on a plate and put the box back in the fridge.

“Alexsei’s mother is in town. I’m not going to lie, I’m beyond curious about her.”

Rachel snorted. “The way Irena talks about her sometimes. Ouch.” She shook her head slowly. “Or, to be more specific, it’s the things she doesn’t say.”

“She’ll tell us more when she’s ready. Or we’ll see it ourselves. I forgot to ask if she was staying with the Orlovs or not.” If so, she’d be right next door so they could get a gander. “Alexsei was bunched up today. More than usual. He barely even complained when I cut his hair.”

“They have family all over the place here. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Why are you so fascinated with this?” Her sister sent a look that said she knew Maybe’s game.

“Are you new here? It’s not like we just met yesterday.” Maybe rolled her eyes. “I’m totally nosy.”

“And you have a hard-on for your boss.”

“Well, I mean, I guess that’s true too. If you want to be so vulgar about it.”

“Vulgar is my middle name.”

“I thought selfish was your middle name?” she teased Rachel.

“Depends on my mood and the day of the week. Duh.”

“I love your goofy ass, you know that, right?” Laughing, Maybe cracked open a beer.

“When are you going to let him see your boobs already? I feel like you two have been giving one another googly eyes for years now.”

“It’s not happening while his mother is visiting from Russia, for goodness’ sake. When she leaves, then I’ll maybe investigate a little further. Probably. I mean, it’s dumb. He’s my boss. I really need to talk myself out of this. Tell me what a terrible idea this is.”

“No. I’m going to tell you what a good idea it is instead. He’s not your boss. Not really. You work in his barbershop. But you earn your own living with your clients and make him a lot of cash. You’re a total asset to his business but neither of you needs to pretend to feel anything out of fear of reprisals. And before you bring up the fiancée, she’s gone and he’s had his rebound time. Get some of that.”

Maybe groaned. “That heifer isn’t gone. She’s like herpes, Rach. She keeps coming back. Alexsei and Vic were talking about her earlier. She claims she needs him to go with her to get a replacement phone.”

Rachel curled her lip. “She can’t have him back.”

“When they were talking about her, they broke into Russian. Alexsei was super annoyed. But they were talking way too fast for me to get more than an outline.”

“For your purposes, she’s gone. She’s not going to marry him anymore. If she ever was. I still can’t see them as a couple and they were actually a couple. But now they aren’t together and won’t be again. That dumbo will be around for years because she’s besties with his cousin, but as long as they’re not involved, so what? Anyway she’s not you. And he seems to dig that fact. You need to get in there and cockblock any bull on her part.”

If only things were as simple as Rachel thought they were. She wanted to retort that Rachel should take her own advice and finally realize she could do more than bang a dude and kick him to the curb ten minutes after she came.

But she never would say that because you didn’t make fun of someone’s weaknesses. You built them up. And punched them if they stole your eyeliner, yet again.

“I got a call from Mom and Dad.”

Rachel groaned. “What do they want?”

“Thanksgiving’s coming up and they want us there.” No use mentioning the real reason to have Maybe invited was because she was their way to their oldest daughter.

Maybe always made sure to be around to stand between them before they could hurt her sister. But the truth was, she’d had a vastly different relationship with their parents. One Maybe thought her sister deserved to still enjoy. Especially if it gave her more emotional support.

“Huh.” Rachel sighed heavily.

“We’ll do whatever you want. I’ll handle them either way.”

“Why do you keep taking them on for me? You don’t have to. I’m a big girl.” Rachel was indeed a big girl, but she’d been the protector for most of Maybe’s life, so it was her turn to do the protecting.

Maybe just wished their parents saw that and appreciated it instead of reacting to it as if it was a personal attack. Wanted, so very much, not to care how they saw her, but really she wanted them to be proud of her. To see what she did in a positive light instead of always so damned negative.

She was stable. Someone Rachel could count on.

“It was just a phone call about Thanksgiving. People deal with that mundane family stuff every day. No one’s family is perfect.” If she said it often enough she might believe it.

And most important, Rachel needed Maybe to be the buffer. She wouldn’t always, which was why she didn’t say the words aloud.

“Robbie traded Thanksgiving for Christmas so they aren’t doing a big dinner at their house. But you know we can head over there and hang out. Just to be away from here. We can eat turkey here at home too. Or go there. Whatever. As long as turkey is involved I’m pretty much good to go.”

Robbie, their aunt and the woman who was far more a mother to Maybe than her biological one, was a cop, like their father had been. Like a whole truckload of Dolans had been or currently were. Cops worked over holidays, and now that Maybe was grown and didn’t live in Eastern Washington near them, Robbie traded her holidays to be around for more time in the summer for Maybe’s annual visit and Christmas or Thanksgiving when she and Rachel would come over to celebrate.

“Next year you can handle turkey dinner with them on your own. But for the next little while it’s easier for me to thwart them. Thwarting is in my constitution, remember?” And they already disliked her. They wouldn’t try to manipulate her the same way they did Rachel.

And if Rachel was around, they tended to behave better toward Maybe as well. They might actually get through dinner and have a decent time.

Rachel’s laugh sounded rusty, but genuine. “True. You’re a champion thwarter. But you’d cut them off totally and wouldn’t be in contact if not for me.”

She scoffed. Pretty much, yeah. “Well, if you and I weren’t living here, I’d probably still be in Spokane, happily existing two states away from them. Yes. That’s true. Look, they came up here to be near you. They’re not always awful.” Just most of the time. “They worry about you.”

“It’s all the times they are awful to you I have a problem with.”

Her sister had no idea the true extent of damage between their parents and Maybe. She’d seen enough to feel the way she did, to understand why Maybe had run away and gotten herself a new life and kept her parents away from it.

Maybe saw no reason to get into specifics and make Rachel feel bad. She couldn’t have changed it, or stopped it, so it would have only made her feel guilty. Maybe kept her childhood in a box marked Past and that’s where she wanted it to stay.

“Look,” she told Rachel, “nothing is perfect. But you and me? We’re a team. So until you’re ready to handle this, I’ve got it. And even when you are, I’ll still be at your side. She’s a good cook. Turkey day isn’t that bad if we go shortly before dinner and leave right after.”

Her mother would frown at them not helping in the kitchen. But she’d just tell Maybe she was doing everything wrong anyway. The kitchen and her garden were the only places totally under their mom’s complete control. Their dad ran everything else.

It was one of the few things Maybe missed about living in Spokane. At least then they didn’t really expect her to come to Thanksgiving. Once she’d left their house and moved in with her aunt and uncle, her parents generally found it unnecessary to deal with her unless they had to.

She made her own domain. On her terms with the guidance and love of her aunt and uncle. It had transformed her life, made her realize her worth in a way she hadn’t growing up.

But after Rachel and Maybe had settled in Seattle instead of Rachel moving back to Los Angeles where they’d been from, their parents had sold their house and moved up to the Northwest, and their ugly, dark need to control came back into her life again.

It made her harder, it made her stronger and in the end, if she didn’t view it like that, it would have eaten her alive.

“We’ll go, but we only stay on our terms.” Rachel’s voice had gone cold and hard. A glimpse of the woman she’d been and was working her way toward once more. Following the rules was one thing, but Rachel had never been one to get manipulated or maneuvered into anywhere other than where she planned on going.

Rachel took her hands, squeezing them a moment. “What was on that meme you sent me the other day? Oh yeah, Do No Harm, But Take No Shit. I think I need that on a cross-stitch to hang over my damn bed. Anyway. It’s time I start pushing back harder about what I want and for them to get off your case.”

“It’s cool to want to be comfortable and safe and drama free except for the dumb crap at the shop or whatever.” Maybe kept her voice calm. Rachel hated pity and she was always careful to bury it far out of her sister’s way.

“I know what it costs you to run interference with them.”

“You’re going to make me cry so stop this now,” Maybe warned.

“Thank you.” Rachel said this with utter seriousness. “I needed it and now I need to stand on my own more often. Especially with them.”

“I’ll call them back to let them know and get the details.”

“I’ll do it. Don’t argue.” Rachel gave her the stink-eye. “It’s my turn. And I can gauge how strong their when will you get serious and find a real job and stop consorting with those people game is.”

“Good luck with that. They’re world champions and you’ve fallen in with your shiftless sister and her loser friends.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think. I know you.” Rachel waved a hand, but her face was serious.

“It’s cool. I can use it in my art and shit.”

Rachel saw through the bravado, but she let it go with a smile. “Pain is prose, baby. And it pays the bills. Barely, but I’m okay with that for now. I’ve got this and I’m not arguing about it another moment.”

Maybe shrugged and held her hands up. “Okay then. Call in an airstrike if you need it. You know where I am.”

CHAPTER FOUR

EARLY THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Maybe headed to have her regular Friday lunch with her best friend Cora and Rachel at the tiny deli just a few doors down from the tattoo shop where they both worked.

Rachel had been up and out first thing that morning. She still had regular doctor and therapy appointments, though the frequency had dwindled and would continue in that direction.

But she was there, along with Cora, at a small table where a bottle of soda already waited for her.

Cora Silvera had been Maybe’s best friend pretty much from the first day she’d shown up at Whiskey Sharp and stopped by this same little deli for a soda before she went to work. Cora had grabbed the last orange fizz, but when she’d taken note of Maybe’s disappointment, she’d handed it over with a smile.

Then, it turned out she worked at Ink Sisters with Rachel and was related to Rachel’s mentor and new boss. In the next months she’d ended up being besties with both Dolan sisters.

“You’re my favorite,” Maybe said as she sat and took a swig of orange fizz.

“Of course I am. Why do you look so sexy today?” Cora asked. “Snug shirt to showcase the knockers. Red lipstick. The way your hair is standing up extra high. Are those streaks new?”

“Okay, so at eleven last night after telling Rachel the story of my date and talking about my undeniable thing for my hot boss, I decided to add them because I figured I finally need to see what it could be between me and him.”

“Well, I think the silver really pops against the red and I love it. I’m glad you had a shitty date so you finally allowed yourself to jump on Alexsei’s bones.”

“Penises don’t have bones,” Maybe deadpanned.

Cora giggled and Rachel just shook her head with a grin. “You’re a woman of loose morals, Maybe Dolan. By the way you look ridiculously hot and I’m thrilled you finally found a way to get around the whole he’s-my-boss thing. If you date a bit, have some sex and it’s meh, you two aren’t going to flip out. You’ll still be friends and coworkers. But I don’t know, he seems to look at you...really look at you. He watches the way you move. You have the hots for him too. So why not see where it goes because it could be something super delicious and hot? And to be honest, Rachel and I have decided we need to have sex with him vicariously.”

Maybe snickered. “I should never leave the two of you alone to talk about me.”

“This is totally true.” Rachel winked. “Too late though.”

They made some plans to meet up later and, buoyed by Cora’s opinion, Maybe bounced into Whiskey Sharp—after brushing her teeth and reapplying her lipstick—with a few minutes to spare before her first appointment.

* * *

ALEXSEI PRETENDED HE didn’t realize how often he found himself looking up at the door. She liked to work the late afternoon into evening several nights a week to couple her schedule to take advantage of the happy-hour-booze-and-a-haircut specials at the bar, which opened and began serving at four in the afternoon.

Smart.

She knew her clientele. Knew they enjoyed a drink after they left their jobs in the offices crammed downtown. It had been her idea to do the happy hour shave and drink specials they were now famous for.

He liked to see Maybe in the afternoons. Liked the way the sunlight would hit her while she worked. Essentially, he liked seeing her whenever she was around.

It was thinking of her that had gotten him through what had been a truly monstrously awkward late breakfast with his mother and aunt. There’d been posturing, as always, between the two sisters. Lots of passive-aggressive commentary. He and Cris had eaten and tried to talk around all the tension.

He frowned, thinking of it all over again, but this time when he looked up from his work, there she was standing in the doorway, always pausing just a moment as she came in like she greeted the walls and floors as much as everyone else.

Another thing that got to him. She seemed to love the physical space as much as he did.

She looked extra...that is, very whatever it was she exuded when she wore those pants. Maybe was a jumble of old and new in all the best ways. Hard and soft. She looked feminine and fierce and it set his heart pounding.

“Afternoon, class.”

Why he loved it so much when she was ridiculous and irreverent he wasn’t sure. But it was true anyway.

She glided around the shop, taking her coat off, touching base with their office manager and the other barbers until she stood at his station, a hand on her hip.

“I have no treats for you today. Sorry,” she told him with a pretty smile.

She was his treat. One he’d decided to let himself enjoy.

“We had a family breakfast so Irishka was with me instead of loading you down with food.” She’d mentioned Maybe in front of his mother several times. Alexsei was pretty certain it was her way of encouraging him toward Maybe and probably also rubbing it in that she was able to give him advice on something his mother hadn’t known about until right then.

He expected to hear all about that at some point from his mother, who’d hoard it until she needed it as ammunition to lob at him.

Alexsei had, for long moments, wanted to tell her, wanted to share with her this delicious new thing he’d planned to pursue. It had been right there on the tip of his tongue but then he’d realized he didn’t know if he could trust his mother the way he did his aunt. Which made him sad, but he had only so much time for sadness.

“I love it that you call her Irishka. It’s very sweet. I haven’t had bread from a grocery store in years. I’m not sure I could go back now. How is your mother’s visit so far?” Maybe headed to her chair and began to set up.

“Fine.” She’d been annoyed to have to go to breakfast so early. If you could call 10:00 a.m. early and his aunt most assuredly did not. And his mother had insisted on a hotel downtown so they’d gone to meet her there where some sort of bizarre one-upmanship had begun between the sisters.

“How long is she here for?” Maybe asked.

“Three days. She needs to get back because my youngest sister has something, an event of some sort in Moscow. She’ll be there on a school holiday.”

“That’s right. You have two little sisters.”

He nodded.

“Too bad they’re not with her on this visit. This is one of those Seattle Novembers all the tourism guides will be using to sell vacations here for years.”

Alexsei didn’t know his sisters very well, though he and his brother certainly wished they did. They were far younger—fifteen and sixteen years—and products of his mother securing her place at the side of her third husband, who happened to be a gangster as well as a vulgar asshole.

“Have you given your mom a tour of Whiskey Sharp? I can’t recall ever meeting her in the time I’ve worked here. I bet she was so proud when you did.”

In the sixteen years since he and Cristian had arrived at SeaTac to move in with his aunt and uncle, their mother had visited six times. The last time she’d been in town, four years before, he’d driven her over, so proud to show off this business he’d begun to build.

She hadn’t bothered to do more than glance through the front window, comment on the neighborhood and get back into the car after telling him she hoped he had good insurance or could she give him a loan for a better location.

All he said was “She’s seen it.”

The understanding on Maybe’s face might have made him uncomfortable a year ago and it certainly did right then. Only in a way that was new. More intimate, therefore a lot more terrifying.

That was, he thought, what being with her would be like. She saw straight to the heart of things and of people. An attractive quality, but a fearsome one too.

Maybe’s client came in and she waved him her way, their conversation done for the time being, but she gave Alexsei a look over her shoulder that told him she saw through his bullshit.

And though she’d asked him more questions than usual, she’d understood he didn’t want to say more and didn’t push.

She didn’t have to really because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She worked efficiently as always, flirting and laughing with her clients. As the afternoon stretched into evening, Whiskey Sharp filled up with people drinking and getting shaves and haircuts. The sound level rose but it never got so raucous he was worried.

In fact, he used it to hide behind as the time for him to leave for dinner at his aunt and uncle’s house approached.

Slower than usual, he cleaned his workspace and his tools as the light wisped into full dark.

“So.”

Startled, Alexsei focused on Maybe, who stood so close he could smell her. Today it was what he liked to think of as her autumn scent. He’d never say that aloud, naturally, but she changed up her products over the course of the year. In the summer she smelled of heady, luscious flowers and sometimes of coconut and mango. Autumn she was always spicy and rich.

“Hello?” she asked, getting his attention back from where he’d been imagining leaning in and taking a sniff.

“I apologize,” he told her. Why was she so close? He had no ability to be in a space where she was like that because it shredded the control he normally used to keep himself firmly in the friend category.

His breath was full of her. Of her scent. Her heat. The soft sound of her breath was suddenly the only thing he heard.

If he dodged, just a step in either direction, he’d put himself firmly back into that friend spot. He knew it to his bones that she’d assume he wasn’t interested and move on.

Instead he opened the door to more-than-friends. He’d decided to wait until his mother was gone to make his move, but he had no plans to resist now that the opportunity presented itself. “Is there something you need to tell me?” he asked.

She stepped even closer to speak in his ear. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for drinks or something and you haven’t. And I want to go out for drinks or something with you so I’m going to move this along and do the asking because, God, you take forever to get to the point.”

Startled, he laughed, pulling her into a quick hug.

He shouldn’t have, because she felt so fucking good he got dizzy with it. And then he didn’t want to let go but it’d already gone into a little too long for friendly territory so he released her.

Maybe stepped back and the way she looked struck him in the gut. Eyes heavy lidded, a carnal smile on a mouth he wanted to kiss so badly the only thing stopping him was the crowded bar full of their friends and coworkers.

“I can’t. Tonight I mean,” he amended when her face fell. “I need to... I have dinner with my family.”

“Oh that’s right. Irena said something a few days back about that.”

“Tomorrow night after work.”

Her smile was back. “I’m off at nine. You can take me to eat after. Now, go give your aunt a hug for me. I hope it’s a good dinner.”

* * *

HE’D HOPED IT would be a good dinner too.

Continued hoping as he parked his car at the curb in front of the house he’d come to think of as home.

The little house Maybe and Rachel shared sat just next door and he allowed himself to look over as he headed up the front walk. So much outdoor light over there. His aunt had been annoyed at first, saying it was too bright. But after a while she and his uncle had come to like it, and feel it made their part of the neighborhood safer because it was so well lit at night.

The door opened before he’d finished taking the top step and his brother, Cristian, hurtled out, relief on his features.

“Thank God you’re here,” he muttered to Alexsei. “Mom has Seth cornered and she’s grilling him on his job. Auntie keeps glaring but not intervening. He didn’t bring flowers. I told him to bring them both a big bouquet but Mom’s a little bigger. Not a lot bigger but just enough. You know?”

“Take a breath, Cris. You need to breathe or you’ll pass out and then she’ll blame him for that too.”

“Fucking hilarious,” Cris whispered as Alexsei laughed. “He didn’t bring her any present at all.”

Ouch. “That’s unfortunate.”

He let his brother propel him into the front hall, where he hung his things in the closet and exchanged his shoes for the slippers always ready for his use in the house when he came over.

Alexsei blocked his brother’s way to get his attention. Cris could totally get off topic, especially when it came to their mother. “He’ll have to make that up as soon as possible. When you take her to the house tomorrow he needs to meet you both with flowers and chocolate and something stupid and expensive like a scarf with the designer logo all over it so everyone can see it. Have him tell her it’s to keep her shoulders warm on her flight back home.”

Cristian’s features eased as he smiled and this time there wasn’t panic at the edges. “That’s really good. I’ll even pick up the scarf myself. You know how he gets. Okay. Okay. Thanks. Thanks,” he repeated, “I knew you’d have an idea.”

Seth was a cop. He had that focus and drive that made him a very good police officer, but a sometimes forgetful or scattered fiancé.

It also made him really blunt. Which actually endeared him to the rest of their family. Hopefully their mother would follow suit after this misstep.

Alexsei clapped his shoulder. “If Seth’s going to be with you he has to deal with our family. And sometimes—hell, pretty rarely—that includes our mother. Anyway Irishka approves of Seth so you’ll be fine.”

He followed the noise to the huge kitchen and attached dining room. The heart of the house and the place he most often found his family gathered. The sideboard already held food but he knew there’d be way more coming.

Loud calls of welcome sounded as he and Cris were noticed and his aunt paused for a kiss as she passed by. He dropped off some booze and a few tins of the tea his uncle favored and poked around a little in the different pots and pans to see what was for dinner.

Fish with mushrooms, pork chops of some sort, cabbage rolls, rice and vegetables, his aunt went all out to welcome her sister to her home.

Polina had Seth on the hot seat near the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. He appeared uncomfortable but not offended or upset. She caught sight of Alexsei and dismissed Seth, who tipped his chin in greeting and got out while he could.

Smart man.

“Mama.” Alexsei kissed both cheeks. “You look pretty.”

She smiled, pleased by his greeting.

“Are you giving Seth a hard time?” he asked in Russian. Truth was, Seth needed to learn Russian if he meant to stick around. The family constantly switched back and forth between Russian and English, usually at a high speed.

At that moment it made it easier to be frank, but it would always be used to get around him until he figured out how to fend for himself. And he’d learned from Maybe just how much people hated being talked around like that.

She made a sound. “He wants things. He needs to give them to Cristian, not the other way around.” Then she tossed out a not-so-nice slang term for cop he’d heard from her husband more than once.

Alexsei shook his head. “No. That’s not it at all. He’s got ambition. He’s a detective now and good enough at it that he recently got a promotion. He’s responsible. Stable. He loves Cris.”

“Cris can do better,” she said, disdain heavy in the words. “A businessman. A pilot. Not a cop.”

“And Cris loves him. He wants to take care of your son. And your son wants his mother to be supportive of his choices.” He shrugged a shoulder and she gave him a look, but allowed him to close the topic.

His uncle came in and called for everyone to come to the table. Seth settled in next to Cristian, looking a little glazed over, but mainly all right.

Alexsei’s mother sat in the chair he’d been holding out for her and then he grabbed the place to her left, between her and his uncle, across from his aunt. For that one moment it was nice to see them all there. His very large family all talking, catching up, laughing and bragging.

Irena had gone all out, preparing not just two salads, but four. He knew she wanted his mother to see how well she took care of the family. Even if things were complicated between his mother and aunt, they were sisters. There was love there, regardless of anything else.

After the salads came some soup. Mushroom, Alexsei’s favorite. He winked at his aunt, knowing she’d made it for him.

The main dishes, the sides, more food and more food until three hours and countless plates of food later Alexsei had to admit defeat and push himself back, away from the table before he gave in to his aunt’s urging and ate even more.

They settled in the living room just beyond and once everyone had quieted down, Cristian stood and held a hand out Seth’s way. “Mom, Seth and I bought a house. We thought it might be nice to drive past and see it tomorrow on the way back to the airport. We don’t close for another thirty days, but you can see it from the outside at least.”

“You aren’t married,” Polina said to Cristian.

“We’ve been trying to get things in order before we decide to get married. Seth’s family wants to be here for any ceremony and so we want to do it at least a year from now.”

She made a sound and then told him in Russian, “He’s pretty, but you’ll support him then? Is that how you want to live? He should be taking care of you, not the other way around.”

“I know you’re uncomfortable with us being gay,” Seth began, knowing enough to understand the conversation was about him but not getting what the actual problem was.

“You know?” Polina narrowed her gaze and took Seth in. “I only met you yesterday and you know me so well? Cristian is who he is. I don’t care about gay or not gay.” She made a movement with her hand, sweeping it away.

“What is the problem then?” Seth demanded.

Alexsei wished very much that he’d taken his uncle up on that shot he’d offered just before they’d walked out of the kitchen. This was going to be a long, horrible scene. He could taste it.

Irena made a sound with her tongue that didn’t bode well for his brother’s partner. She told Cris to handle his business and then began to address Polina in short bursts of Russian.

Seth had an uphill battle. They all enjoyed his company and clearly he made Cristian happy, but he wasn’t Russian. Strike one. Not entirely insurmountable. Far worse though, he hadn’t greeted Polina in a way she expected and then he’d been short with her. Bluntness was an art form in his family, yes, but you didn’t fuck with your mother-in-law like that. At least not from go. She didn’t care that Cristian was gay. But she very much cared about status and Seth hadn’t respected it.

And the worst thing of all to Polina was that Seth worked for the authorities. Her whole lifestyle at that point was supported by things not lawful even in Russia.

His brother sent him a pleading look and Vic groaned at his side.

“You need to let them handle this,” he muttered to Alexsei.

“He loves the guy. What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to let Cris handle it. If he wants Seth, he has to do this. If you get in the middle, they’ll both be upset and dissatisfied. No matter what you do or say.”

“Like some sort of dystopian future? I leave them to fight to the death?”

Vic snorted. “If he can’t fight for Cris and Cris for him, it’s not meant to be. If you step in too early she’ll never accept Seth. At least give them another five minutes. No one’s yelling or crying.”

“Yet.”

“Yet may be as good as it ever gets with this family, Alyosha.”

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS PAST ELEVEN but the night was warm enough, even in November, for Maybe to be on the porch as she drank her tea and looked at the stars. While layered up in all her fleece, naturally.

Even in the middle of their quiet suburban neighborhood there was still activity. Houses here and there had lights on.

Next door at the Orlovs, the family dinner had been raucous enough that Maybe heard it from time to time. Mostly it had sounded festive, but a few times she was pretty sure she was overhearing an argument.

She’d come home from work, hung out with Rachel and Cora after band practice was over and still wasn’t quite ready for bed. So Maybe’d opted for fresh air and the stars for quiet company and wasn’t disappointed at all to catch sight of Alexsei stalking from Irena and Pavel’s place next door.

Maybe considered remaining silent and letting him go. But he was right there. And she wanted his company, even for a little while. So she raised a hand and called out quietly.

He turned, starting a little when he noticed her on the porch. He paused, his body tense in the yellowy light of the streetlamp.

Then he headed over to her.

“How was dinner?” she asked when he climbed the front steps.

“Irena is a good cook. I’m full.”

Which in Alexsei-speak would normally answer the question. If the food was good and he was full, it was a successful dinner. But he had a hesitation around his eyes as well as the set of his shoulders.

She waited, wondering if he’d elaborate. He didn’t.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked at last.

“No. Do you have alcohol?”

Ouch. “That kind of dinner, huh? Yeah, come on in.” Maybe unlocked the three front door locks and indicated he join her inside.

“Did you just get home?” he asked as she locked up once they were in the front hall and set the alarm.

“No. I’ve been back a few hours or so. Why?”

“The door was locked many times. Is everything all right?” He frowned and it made her tingly.

“We always lock the door, even when we’re home. Let’s hang out in my room. That way we won’t bug Rachel. Then I’ll explain.”

One corner of his mouth lifted slightly and she rolled her eyes as she grabbed a bottle and some glasses.

Maybe realized, as she led him down the four steps to the side of the house her bedroom inhabited, that he’d never been in there before.

Cool.

“Make yourself comfortable. I just need to run up and check on something.” She wanted to touch base with Rachel briefly. Her sister didn’t need surprises.

On the other side of the house, Rachel lay in her bed, surrounded by sketchbooks, her e-reader, comics, and whatever flotsam and jetsam that amused her at any given time.

“I’ve got a wild Russian bearded barber in my bed right now. Well,” Maybe amended, “in my room. The bed part is one of those wish fulfillment things. Anyhoodle. I just wanted to let you know what was up and that if you hear me screaming about God it was probably due to orgasms and other lady business.”

Then she froze and regretted her words. Oh a joke about screaming to her sister who’d been held captive by a madman for three weeks. So stupid!

But she didn’t apologize, knowing it would only start a thing between her and her sister.

Rachel’s face lit with recognition and then annoyance. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Maybe. You can’t remove every single word that might apply to something horrible that happened to me from your life. Mainly because you talk too much for that to be anything near a reality. But also, I’m not that fragile. I promise.”

“I know you’re not fragile. Jesus. You’re the strongest, bravest person I know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like that. I just want to protect you and I go too far. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You and me are fine. We always have been. I’m a work in progress and you let me be. That’s what makes everything okay. Now go on down to your wild bearded barber before he thinks you’ve escaped out the back door.” Rachel gave her a last, exasperated but affectionate smile before turning her attention back to the pad on her lap.

Maybe knew Rachel still checked every single window and door several times a day. Their security system was top-of-the-line and ridiculous and her sister reset it at least weekly, but it was one of the only things that had helped Rachel sleep at night when they’d first moved in to the house.

But Maybe had never thought of that as weak. Just the opposite. Every day Rachel woke up and lived her life and sometimes it was just a matter of making it without ending up in a weeping ball in the shower. But those days seemed less and less frequent, and Maybe liked that a great deal.

Alexsei was in her room where she’d left him. He’d made himself at home as she’d directed, splayed out in the chair near the bed, the bottle and glasses on the bedside table.

He’d even unbuttoned the top two shirt buttons, exposing his throat. Sending her heartbeat into a few salsa thumps.

Finally. After years of playing this scenario over in her head, he was actually in her room. In. Her. Room.

She kicked off her slippers and got onto her bed so she sat across from him. He handed her a glass filled with vodka and they clinked before taking the shot.

“I know it’s sort of stereotypical to hand a Russian vodka for shots and all.”

He sighed, as he often did when she just blurted out whatever.

“Some stereotypes are based on things that are true often enough to be a stereotype.”

“I really love your accent.”

He paused and then shook his head slowly. With a smile. “I like vodka. So thank you. Why are there so many locks on your door? Are you afraid?”

She frowned, not expecting this direction in the conversation. It wasn’t as if what happened to Rachel had been a secret. FBI agent tracking a serial killer gets kidnapped and barely survives that same serial killer. It was gangbusters for all the news cycles. Grist for click bait and the subject of a true crime book written by a woman who cashed in on the misery of others as a living.

But it was Rachel’s story. Her life and Maybe tried to respect that without making what she’d gone through seem like a shameful secret.

“We take home security very seriously around here. Rachel was an FBI agent so this is sort of her thing.”

“She killed the man who harmed her, didn’t she? Is there still a threat?”

He wasn’t being deliberately provocative or anything. She’d noticed over the years she’d known him that he was just blunt. Like the rest of his family, she supposed.

“I’m the one who wants a drink now,” she mumbled.

It was a joke. Sort of. He didn’t take it as such, however, handing her a refilled glass with a serious expression.

She raised it before drinking, the burn helping overcome the unreality of all these things in her life intersecting at once.

“It’s really odd having you here in my room. I mean, I’ve thought about it before and you’ve been in the house a few times. Thanks for helping us move the new couch in, by the way.”

He appeared mildly stunned but not offended or scared. Amused probably because she was prone to these little spells as Vic referred to them.

“So yeah, the locks. When we have a safe house, it’s easier.”

“It makes Rachel more comfortable to feel safe after what she endured. This makes sense to me.”

He nodded and she realized—not for the first time—how nice it was that he was so plainspoken. He didn’t try to shield her or take over for her. He just listened and reacted to what she’d said without artifice.

“So now it’s your turn to talk about your night,” she urged.

“Family.” The way he said it pretty much explained the situation. But she waited and finally he sighed long and spoke again. “Cristian wants our mother’s approval. Seth insulted her, and though not on purpose it still causes problems.” He shrugged.

“She doesn’t visit very often. Does she, I mean, is she still involved in your life enough to have that matter? Or, I guess it’s not really about that when it comes to family. Sometimes we want things that will never happen.”

“She’s our mother. Cristian was younger than me when we came here. He feels her absence differently, I suppose.”

“Is it the gay thing? I know there are some problems in Russia with how LGBTQA folks are treated.”

“It might be if we lived there. But we don’t. As far as I can tell she doesn’t care about that. Never has that I’ve seen. But her community most likely would. And they’d most likely care about the cop thing way more than the gay thing. Seth is a cop. I’m not sure if you knew that.”

She had, and given the number of cops in her family, she’d accepted it with a shrug. He seemed to make Alexsei’s sweet brother very happy, so that was the biggest deal anyway.

“Her community?”

He gave her a look and then shrugged. “Her husband is involved in organized crime. From all my exposure to him and his compatriots, they are small-minded except when it comes to money.”

“Oh.” What the hell did you say to that? Well, Maybe knew what she would say probably wouldn’t be what anyone else would. So what would a normal person say to this?

He laughed though. A big, booming laugh that made her want to rub all over him.

“Oh? Zajka, you must be biting your tongue so hard not to comment more.” His mouth did some stuff and she might have gone away for a few long moments as she struggled not to lean in and lick it.

“Zajka?” She sounded slightly intoxicated. Or probably she was slightly intoxicated and also really turned on.

“Yes, an endearment. Ah, like bunny or rabbit?”

He’d used an endearment on her?

“Do you want to hear what I thought then?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. Or I’d tell you.”

He probably would. Which was nice too. Also his underlining that he was there on purpose.

“I just wondered what the heck one was supposed to say when told someone was married to the mob. I mean, are you part of that?”

“I’m not. It’s one of the reasons my brother and I were sent here. To her credit, my mother saw that I was interested in the street life her husband lived and she sent us far away.”

“But your sisters are there?” That sounded so judgy, but what the fuck? Who did that? Then again, she remembered her own parents and that humbled her quite a bit.

“They’re his. Her husband’s. He didn’t care that she sent us here. In fact I think he preferred it that way. My sisters are in boarding school in Switzerland. I’d normally frown upon that, but it keeps them out of that mess for most of the year so I accept the rest.”

Maybe nodded. Understanding. “So it was one of those family dinners where everyone had super high expectations of everyone else and no one met them and everyone left unsettled and slightly dissatisfied?”

“Exactly so.”

She wanted to dig deeper. Wanting to understand him better. But she also could tell from his body language that he’d shared all he was going to for that moment.

Over the years, he’d given her bits and pieces of his story and each time had felt like a gift. And now she wanted more.

“Can I do anything to help? Make it better somehow?”

His gaze sharpened and landed on her like a physical thing that stole her breath.

Was he going to request something dirty?

God she hoped so.

Instead he said, “Just listening helped. Also the vodka.”

“Okay. Well good.” She pulled her legs up, folding them beneath her.

“Talk more,” he said.

“I wish you’d kiss me.”

Hmm. She wasn’t sure she’d meant to say that out loud. But now that she had, she wasn’t sorry.

Especially when he put his glass down and leaned toward her.

He muttered something in Russian but she forgot to ask him what he’d said when he brushed his lips against hers, bringing a slight gasp from her at the sensation.

It wasn’t so much hesitant as exploratory. He took his time, tasting, testing. Taking. Oh yes, and she wanted to give.

Oh his flavor...a little vodka, a little tobacco—she knew he snuck out to smoke pungent black French cigarettes when he got stressed—anise perhaps. But there’d never been anything like it in her life and it fit him so well it left her slightly unsettled.

He knew his way around a woman’s mouth, that was for sure. His tongue was sure as it swept against hers, sending a wave of pleasure through her. He wasn’t going to be rushed or moved in any way but what he wanted.

He was just so calmly...in charge that it got her all worked up.

And that was before he nipped her bottom lip as he pulled back, making her whimper.

“Okay, that was worth waiting for,” she said a little more breathlessly than she’d planned.

His amused look was back. “Yes, yes it was. I’m relieved you agree. Now, you were going to talk more.”

“Is this so you don’t have to talk about your family?” Also, couldn’t they just kiss more instead?

“You’re very suspicious, zajka.”

Oh! The pet name again? He was going to kill her with adorable and then she’d die without having sexed him up. Which seemed totally unacceptable now that she’d made her mind up that she had to have him.

Briefly, she wondered if she should articulate that to him, but she decided against it. However, she did really want to know why he’d made up his mind to have her right back.

“People keep telling me that. I prefer curious. Why are you...why now?” she asked, flapping a hand back and forth between them.

He did this thing with his eyebrow and it was...well imperious. That wasn’t new. He did it at work all the time.

But now? What he gave her was something else. More sexy and haughty than imperious. Though that was always there because it was part and parcel of his makeup.

And now he gave her that look as the two of them shared a pretty small space. She’d never actually been in any situation half as intimate as the one they shared right then. His voice still seemed to strike some sort of chord deep within her, but it had softened at the edges. Like a touch.

“Why now? You know, as I do, that it’s always been there between us. But when you first came along there was Rada so I would not allow my thoughts to go any further than flirtation.”

“And now there’s no Rada.” Thank goodness.

He laughed and she found herself loving that sound. Wanting it more as she always had.

“But after Rada, you didn’t come for me.” She thought of the women he’d chosen over her and wanted to growl.

He winced. “I had some things to get out of my system. I wasn’t ready to come for you until I could get past the fact that I am your boss. I’m there, in case you wanted to know.

“And tonight, I came out of my aunt’s house and you were there. You called my name and I came. It seems this has been my path from the moment you hurtled into the shop two years ago.”

It made her feel...special that he’d said such things to her. And wildly flattered and beautiful.

“Oh. Well. That’s good. I mean, yeah. I like that.” She flapped a hand.

“Have I rendered you without coherent speech?” he teased.

“Don’t worry too much,” she managed, “it never lasts very long. My will to talk is pretty strong.”

“That’s been my experience.”

She sent him her own version of the raised brow.

He just smiled at her.

* * *

HE’D BEEN ESCAPING the house. Needing to be the hell away from the stupid drama of the evening.

Alexsei had managed to drag his mother back from the edge while Cris reined Seth in. Things weren’t totally settled, and he wasn’t sure they’d ever be. But for the time being they’d all survive to fight again another day.

But then there’d been a card game and Alexsei had headed out the back door, intending to walk around the block a few times when he’d heard his name and she’d been there.

And then she’d drawn him inside, into the heart of her home. He’d been moved by that. Nearly as much as the way she blushed when he spoke to her.

The placed smelled of her. Spicy sweet. He’d been expecting...well, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but it hadn’t been the feminine blue walls and the mounds of pillows and soft blankets on her—made—bed.

A mess with piles of clothes and books, now that was what he’d envisioned. The books were there. Hell, books seemed to be everywhere in the room. They lined shelves with framed pictures and a lot of art tucked here and there.

She’d shown him her truest self and he’d been unable to resist, though he hadn’t tried very hard, when she’d said she wanted a kiss.

Kissing that mouth had been something he’d put a great deal of thought into over the last two years. He’d wondered what the piercing would feel like and he’d discovered it felt fucking awesome.

Sexy. Like most everything about her.

It was better than his wildest dreams. Her taste still rang through him. They’d clicked in a way he’d never quite experienced before.

“So. Now it’s your turn. Tell me something,” she said.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why did you break up with Rada?”

Surprised, he gave her an assessing look. “Neither of us really wanted to be with one another anymore. The wedding planning had started and I realized I couldn’t go through with it. Even to make our families happy.”

“So you’re still friends now?” She winced, obviously not intending to sound so nosy about his status. But he liked it because he knew she was truly interested.

“Not as such.” Though they’d known one another for years, they hadn’t had much in common outside of that connection. And once they’d stopped having sex, they’d lost the last threads holding their relationship together. There wasn’t anything between them to hold a friendship beyond romance and sex, despite the fact that he’d known her as long as he had.

“She’s close with Evie—Vic’s little sister—so I see her frequently enough but we’re not what I would call friends.” She was simply part of the family, though not his fiancée anymore.

“Because she’s so helpless and annoying?”

He began to argue but it was impossible to do so with a straight face so he didn’t bother. Rada was smarter than a lot of people gave her credit for, but she did expect things to be done for her. To be taken care of. “Not all women are like you.”

“Lucky for you, then, I guess.”

“I can’t find fault with that statement. Family visits notwithstanding.”

“Look at you. I’ve been watching you as you took a dip in the sea of pussy since your broken engagement. You didn’t turn this level of game on any of those ladies. Not that I saw. You just gave them broody, sultry and mysterious and they hopped aboard. And who could blame them?”

He shook his head. “Sixty percent of whatever you say makes no sense at all. Are you aware of this?”

“I totally make sense! You’re really going above and beyond here is what I’m saying. I like it that you’re bringing everything you’ve got to the table and not just relying on that face of yours. And the accent of course. Man oh man. And the way you smell and look in general. How is that not making sense?”

“How do you know I don’t have game with them behind closed doors?”

Her grin was quick and bright. “I’m sure you know what to do with your cock. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

“I find your bluntness when it comes to sex quite delightful,” he told her, meaning every word.

She blushed again, ducking her head a moment before speaking once more. “Anyway, if you spoke to any of those women the way you have to me tonight, they’d be at the shop every day making cow eyes at you. Nah, you give ’em the accent and you give ’em a ride and then after a few weeks they’re gone.”

The truth was, he hadn’t said any of this to those women because it wouldn’t have been true. And he didn’t need pretty lies to get between a woman’s thighs. All the sex, and the fucking around, had been about burning off energy. The women he’d been with knew that and had been as into it for the sex as he had.

“Does this mean you’ll be making cow eyes at me now?” he teased—albeit a little hopefully. She was not the same as anyone he’d been with before. What he felt when he was with her was not the same.

“Depends on what else you do when you sex me up. I mean, if you’re magic or something, I might have to.”

“Being with you is like riding a roller coaster.”

“Do you like roller coasters?” she asked.

He nodded.

“All right then.”

He stood, meaning to settle on her bed with her until his phone buzzed in his pocket and he remembered he was only going to take a walk and he’d been there for at least an hour.

And a look at the screen told him he was correct that they’d noticed his absence.

“Is everything all right?” Maybe asked as she stood as well.

He typed that he’d be right back and put the phone away before taking her face in his hands and kissing her.

He didn’t want to go back over there. He wanted to stay here, with her scent all around him. So he could watch her face as she spoke, animated and so freaking full of energy.

He really didn’t want to break the kiss he’d started to delay leaving and now felt like the best thing he’d ever experienced. She seemed to melt against him, her body snugged up against his, her curves calling to him so he gave in, sliding his hands down her body to her hips. She gasped and he sucked in the sound.

Need seemed to gather low in his belly as his cock throbbed in time with his thundering pulse.

She was fire. Her skin seemed to sear the palms of his hands as they roamed. This was what he’d needed. What he’d wanted from the first he’d met her. Her taste, her body against his.

He could have fucked women for years and not felt this level of intimacy and connection and that humbled him.

Once he was able to drag his mouth from the kiss, he touched his forehead to hers a moment before stepping back. “I was only escaping for a walk in the fresh air. I need to accompany my mother back to her hotel. Cristian’s taking her back now so I have to leave. Believe me when I tell you I’d rather be here.”

“I get it. We’re still on tomorrow night?”

“Yes. I’ll be out most of the day as my mom’s plane leaves in the late afternoon.”

“You know where I’ll be. Just let me know.”

He kissed her again and then made himself walk out of the house and over to where his family had spilled out into the yard saying goodbyes. Half of them would be at the airport tomorrow to say goodbye again, but it wasn’t as if they saw one another very often.

“Wherever have you been?” Vic asked in an undertone as he approached.

“I had a drink with Maybe.”

“And?”

“And now I need to ride with my brother and his fiancé and our mother to her hotel and pretend there’s no tension. I’m overjoyed to have been torn away from Maybe’s bedroom for that.”

Vic’s smile flashed quickly. “Sorry about that.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told his cousin as he held the car door for his mother.

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