He dipped his head in a slight nod of acknowledgment.
“But… why?”
His brows rose. “Why? I’m not fond of anyone harassing women.”
“No, not that. I mean…” Breaking eye contact seemed mandatory. This was the most I’d talked to a man in a long time. “I mean, why did you care to help me? We’re strangers.”
He extended his hand. I glanced down at it, intrigued by the hint of tattoos just at the edge of his cuff. That suit screamed business but the callused grip of his big, warm hand and the ink on his skin suggested that he could be a bad boy, too.
“I’m Sergei,” he said, encasing my hand with his.
“Natalie,” I replied.
“There. We’re not strangers, after all,” he teased gruffly.
I shook his hand, nodding dumbly. The simple contact of our hands together like this shouldn’t have sent this bolt of awareness through me. We were shaking hands. A common gesture between two people in an introduction. No ulterior motive hid behind our touching like this, yet, the longer I hesitated to release his warm strength, the warier I became.
Losing Fitz was a hard lesson of independence that I was still trying to navigate. With what Rosa had asked me, I was acutely aware of how this seemingly innocent introduction and handshake could twist into something unintentional.
I hadn’t expected to see this man again to have the chance to thank him. I was glad I did. And I had. I told him thank you. That deed was done.
But nothing else would follow, right?
He wouldn’t ask me to prove that I was thankful or anything like that, would he?
His good deed allowed me to have a tiring night instead of a terrifying and harrowing one. But I almost winced at the possibility that I’d be indebted to him.
After Fitz’s death, I understood how confining my life was by being indebted to him and counting on him for everything.
“Thanks again,” I said, wishing I sounded stronger and more sincere. I was. But under his blue stare, I was intimidated.
“You’re welcome, Natalie.” He released my hand, sticking his in his pocket like he wasn’t bothered or nervous at all. “Have a good night.”
I smiled, moving past him. “You too, Sergei.”
Without another look back, I continued on my walk home, impatient to see my daughter. The further I moved from the strong man who’d proven that good people still existed in this world, I wanted to cave and see if he was still there, watching me go.
The idea that he’d be watching over me, even from a distance, lit a little thrill inside me.
When I peeked back, he was gone.
Oh, well.
For the best.
I wasn’t ready to invite any man in my life. Not even one brave enough to step in for me when I choked and froze in the face of a threat.
5
SERGEI
Four nights later, I found myself walking into the entrance at the Diamond Mirage again. It was just as crowded as the other night. The same shitty club music was competing with the TVs blaring overhead with news reports and games.
And the same guarded and nervous expression showed on Natalie’s face.
I sat in front of her, lucky to have this vacant stool available, and waited for her to notice me. I supposed that no one sat here right in front of where she operated because of the frequency of spills and risk of splashes.
That was what it took for her to finally look up and see me. Missing the bottom of a glass on the inner bar ledge, she cringed and opened her eyes wide with alarm. Beer sloshed out, nearly soaking my suit sleeve with how I’d stacked my forearms on the bar top. With quicker reflexes than her, I pulled my hands aside just in time.
