“It’s just a cup of coffee,” I remind her. “Overpriced, I’m sure, but still just a cup of coffee.”
She nods, pushes her glasses up again and then follows me across the street, looking back at the truck every few feet.
“Mac’s great,” I say, trying to reassure her. “When he’s done, you’ll never be able to tell there used to be a dent there.”
I open the door to the small café for Evie, noticing that my words don’t seem to have had an effect on her. She still looks tense and worried. After we order two lattes and she turns down my offer for a blueberry muffin, we head to one of the small tables in the corner that gives us a clear view of Mac’s garage.
“So how old are you, Evie?” I ask once we’re seated.
That question alone makes her blush. She grabs her drink, pulling it closer and says, “Almost twenty-one.”
“Almost?”
“Yeah, later this month.”
I lift my latte in a cheer. “Well, happy early birthday then.”
Her mouth quirks up the tiniest bit. “Thanks, Mr. Medvedev.”
I laugh and say, “Call me Valeri.”
“Where are you from?” Her question seems to surprise her, like it came out before she could think better of it. She quickly says, “You don’t have to answer that. I was just curious about your accent.”
“I’m from Russia.”
“The library has a pretty big section devoted to Russian literature.”
“What’s your favorite?”
She sets her drink on the table and pulls her sleeves down again. “I really like Chekhov’s short stories.”
“I wasn’t the world’s best student,” I admit with a laugh, “but I do remember reading and liking his stories when I bothered to show up for class.”
The small smile she gives is quickly hidden when she takes another drink. Pushing her sleeve up, she checks the oversized watch she’s wearing, and my fingers tighten around my own drink when I see what looks like the start of a dark purple bruise. She pulls her shirt back down, hiding it from view, but her fear about the truck makes a lot more sense now. I shouldn’t care. I’ve known her for less than an hour, and, yeah, it sucks if her dad’s abusive, but I don’t know this woman, and I’m sure as hell not responsible for her. The fact that I’m now worrying about her going home is irritating to say the least.
The soft buzz of my phone pulls me from my confusing thoughts. When I look at the photo that’s just come in, I can’t help but laugh. Volodya’s sent me a picture of my youngest nephew. Misha’s smiling at the camera, proudly showing off his newest baby tooth while Maddie’s caught in mid-laugh, trying to hold his squirming body.
Still babysitting him tonight?
I quickly respond that of course I am and set my phone down. Evie darts her eyes away, but it’s obvious she was curious and staring at the photo. She probably thinks it’s my wife and son. Normally, I wouldn’t volunteer information about my family, but I don’t want her to think I’m married.
“My nephew and sister-in-law,” I say, before scrubbing a hand over my jaw because I really can’t figure this girl out or my reaction to her. She’s the exact opposite of what I usually go for, but there’s no denying I’m intrigued by her.
“He’s really cute,” she says. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be nosy.”
“If I was worried about you seeing my phone, I wouldn’t have set it down. All my messages are in Russian anyway,” I say with a smile.
Her eyes quickly run over the tattoos that are peeking out from my suit. “Do you have a lot to hide?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t everyone?”
She looks back out the window, tapping her fingers nervously on the table. “I suppose we all have our secrets.”
I’m surprised by how badly I want to know hers. I can’t remember the last time I was actually curious about a woman. Truth be told, I’m not so sure I ever have been. I love women, I really love sex, but I’ve never been in love. I have flings, not relationships, and I’ve always been fine with that, but over the last year, I’ve noticed that the one-night stands aren’t quite as much fun as they used to be. I blame it on my nephews and on getting shot. My brothers’ families have made my life seem even lonelier, and recovering from that damn bullet wound had given me way too much time to think about my life. I didn’t expect a mid-life crisis at twenty-seven, but life is full of unexpected surprises.
She checks her watch again and lets out a yawn that’s quickly hidden behind her hand.
“You must be exhausted. All this is cutting into your bedtime.”
