20
Preparing his home for a woman was a new experience for Ive. He’d bought wine and fresh condoms—house condoms, as opposed to the traveling truck condoms that came with a history he didn’t want anywhere near Uma. He washed his sheets and made up his bed, caught sight of the wine and realized he couldn’t possibly serve it in his nasty mugs.
Back at the store, he remembered to pick up a corkscrew. Fancy glasses wouldn’t do you a lick of good if you couldn’t open the damn bottles. After clearing off a table and setting it all up there, he’d decided he might need something other than venison, eggs, or pickled beets to offer her and had gone back out to get more civilized snacks. Three trips to the store in a single day, and he’d spent more than he generally did in a week, but it was worth it. She was worth it.
He was prepping for the evening as if it were some kind of messed up senior prom. Nervous and itchy and so fucking horny he could hardly contain himself. Like a virgin.
And it was only three in the afternoon. He’d seen Uma parked out front of Ms. Lloyd’s house, and every time he’d driven by, it was all he could do not to go up there and knock on the door. Just to see her face.
Later that afternoon, he went back out for the final purchase. It had come to him in a moment of inspiration. He ran the silky fabric through his fingers, a little bit hating how it caught on the rough edges of his skin. The women in the shop hadn’t even looked at him strangely when he’d bought them, so he figured men buying women gifts like this was probably something they were used to. Weird. He hadn’t gotten anything for a woman in years, and when he had, he’d basically been a kid.
A ring. That’s what he’d bought for Angela. As big a diamond as he could afford on his factory worker’s salary—which hadn’t been all that big—but she’d still loved it. He couldn’t remember ever getting her anything else. Of course, there was the house. He’d have given her that, if he’d had it then. He’d have given her the shirt off his back. But by the time he’d inherited the place from Uncle Gus, Angela had been long gone. She’d refused to visit him in prison, called him a psycho, told him she’d never speak to him again. Exactly like his mom, who’d screamed at him and baby Jessie, then taken off, leaving them with their grandmother.
Thinking about the frustration he’d felt with Angela and his mom, even Grandma, made him twitch with the need to hit something. Metal to metal always helped, but flesh on flesh was better.
He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he understood the need. It was rage, they’d told him inside, and it needed to bemanaged.
Manage, he thought with a nasty, dry little chuckle.What a stupid fucking word.Management made him think of bosses and suits. Offices. As if you could somehoworganizeyour anger, tell it what to do.File it away.
Yeah, right.The only way he’d learned to deal with it had been when Steve, a cop, had started teaching classes at the prison. Ironic, wasn’t it, how learning how to fight properly had helped him to control—or rather, refocus—his anger. Fighting had gotten him into prison, and fighting got him out. After that, there’d been the ironwork, also learned when he’d been locked up.
He glanced at the clock. Shit, she’d be here soon. No time to pound it out. The thought of her had him breathing more evenly. He paced around, wondering what it looked like through her eyes. He glanced at the fabric draped over the back of the one wooden chair in the room, wondering if they’d use either one. He could bend her over the chair, tie her hands with the scarf, or…she could tiehimup, use him however she liked. Oh, man, that got him going again.
A tiny part of him cringed at how turned-on he got when she bossed him around. And why the hell not? She hadn’t complained about him manhandling her every once in a while, and it clearly wasn’t easy for her. He just liked it both ways, apparently, and—
A knock. Ivan wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and went to open it. “Down, girl.” He nudged Squeak aside and pulled the door open.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
Her eyes widened as she looked him up and down, and her lips curled up into a gentle smile. “You look nice.”
“Oh. Thanks.” He ran his hand through hair that he’d actually brushed. He’d had to buy one of them too. “You too. C’mon in.”
“It’s a beautiful night outside. The sky’s insane. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stars.”
“Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll take you for a walk later.” Again, something he’d never done—walked with a woman. Angela would have rather gone straight to hell than spend time outside. “Go stargazing.”
“I’d like that.” She sounded like she meant it.
Uma squatted down to scratch Squeak behind the ear, and Ive had to stop himself from grabbing her. He had to give her time, not maul her as soon as she got inside. And seeing her down there, loving on his dog, was… He swallowed hard and turned away.
“The place looks amazing,” she said, still squatting, like maybe she wasn’t quite ready to come back up and get the evening started. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to standing, then led her to the table, feeling stupidly proud of his accomplishments.
“Oh, a tablecloth. Fancy! And wine? This is—” Her hand landed on the chair back, and the scarf scrunched between her slender, white fingers. “It’s amazing, Ivan.”
There it was again, his full name. He loved that. The way she wouldn’t short him a syllable. He loved the smile too, how she blushed when he paid attention to her.
She took it all in, the meatballs, the cut veggies, the shrimp kebabs, the cheese. Red wine, white wine. Sliders and mini sausages. She laughed and turned to him. “Meat, meat, meat, and…cheese?”
“Hey, I cut some celery.”
“You think we’ll drinktwobottles of wine?”
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I got ’em both.”
“You went way overboard.”
