The cold air whipping around me did little to drown out my thoughts, but once I was home, I downed a half pint of tequila and slept like a baby. The next morning, I woke up early. Too early. It was that time of the morning when your mind starts to wander to places it has no business wandering.
Mine went straight to you know who.
I know. I had to let it go, but just thinking about her standing outside, looking up at the snow falling, got me right in the gut. I couldn’t deny it. There was something about this chick that I’d never been able to shake.
Yeah, there was no point in pretending.
It was a problem, and I didn’t have time for problems, especially ones like her. With that in mind, I got up, took a quick shower, and after I threw on some clothes, I headed out.
When I pulled up to the casino, I glanced down at my dash and groaned when I saw the time. Not only was it too damn early, but I wasn’t even on the schedule to work.
But that didn’t stop me from rolling into the place like it was top of the hour. I’d barely made it through the front door when Nikolai called out, “Goose!”
I glanced to my left and found him sitting at the bar with his jacket slung over his shoulder, and his hair was a disheveled mess. He looked way too relaxed for a man who clearly hadn’t slept. I walked over, and as I sat down next to him, I motioned to his glass of bourbon. “You realize it’s not even seven yet?”
He grinned as he lifted his glass and announced, “This is my last one. I swear.”
I didn’t believe him for a second.
He might’ve looked tired, but there was a spark in his eye—a spark I knew all too well. Nikolai was the youngest of the three Volkov brothers and by far the coolest. And if you’re into that kind of thing, he was alright looking.
He had more tats than most of the brothers, and they weren’t the sloppy, just for-the-sake-of-ink kind of tats. His were upscale with intricate details, and each one had lines of intention. They weren’t just to look cool. They meant something.
Nikolai was one of those guys who was into art and shit, but not in a weird-girly way. It was actually kind of cool. He picked up on things that most of us would never notice, and that was one of the things I liked most about him. He just got things, except for women.
Like me, he was struggling there, and lately, it seemed to be getting to him more than usual. “Late night or early morning?”
“Both.” He took a slow sip of his drink before adding, “And I gotta tell ya, I’m about to throw in the towel.”
“This have something to do with a woman?”
“Not just a woman.All women.” He shook his head and grumbled, “They’re just so damn complicated.”
“That they are.”
“You ever notice how the complication is rarely the woman herself, but everything around her.” He lifted his glass and finished off the last of his drink. “Family. Work. Exes. Cats.”
“Cats?”
“I’m allergic as fuck.”
“Yeah, that would suck.”
“Oh, you have no idea. I was really into her, too. I just couldn’t deal with all the sneezing and eye-watering, and the cat was a real asshole.”
“You couldn’t convince her to ditch the cat?”
“Fuck no. That damn cat was her spirit animal or something. No way in hell she was gonna cut him loose.”
“That’s rough, but a cat’s better than another guy. Nothing worse than some asshole getting between you and your girl.”
“That’s what I’m dealing with right now. Or more like I was dealing with.”
“Ah, man. So, it’s done?”
“Pretty much.” He ran his hand across the back of his neck and grumbled, “This girl was really something. Beautiful. Smart. A real go-getter. I thought there might be something there, but she couldn’t seem to let go of her ex.”
“He a hockey fan?”
