Whiskey Sharp: Unraveled. Lauren Dane
“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.
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