Whiskey Sharp: Unraveled. Lauren Dane
ago when he’d broken off with his fiancée. And for about six months after that he’d drowned himself in a steady diet of cow-eyed women who showed up around closing time to moon at him.
He’d taken them home. Way more than Maybe would have preferred, which to be honest was not at all.
Essentially, he’d fucked a lot of pretty women, went out with his friends and had, from what she could see, worked most of the need to party out of his system. And had, over the last two months or so, calmed that frenetic schedule considerably.
Not wanting to think about him being with other women for another second, Maybe dropped two sugar cubes into her freshly poured tea and grabbed a few of the pyraniki. The little anise spice cookies were perfect with tea.
“You should have the salmon too.” He tipped his chin toward the fish he’d already piled on a thick slice of bread.
“I had some earlier with your aunt. She ambushed me with fish and bread, which I then shared with her, because hello manners. That sounds like a complaint, but truly, it’s an awesome way to start my workday. She’s a food ninja.”
He smiled slightly.
He’d decided about a year before that he liked the way she did his hair best and had announced that to her. It had meant no one else touched his head. Not that the other barbers weren’t relieved. He was a particular guy who liked to back seat drive everything, including his own haircuts and shaves.
It never got to her. Instead she found herself charmed by it over and over. Like he was so outraged every single being in the universe didn’t bow to his whim.
Adorable.
She kept trying to talk him into some funky streaks but he’d only stared at her without speaking until she’d rolled her eyes.
Gruff. But really, under that crusty exterior, there was a soft heart and a vein of compassion she’d seen over and over.
One by one, the other barbers began to come in as the quiet had eased into a more laid-back sort of bustle. Clients filled the space in waves. She loved how the energy of the shop could change so much just from who was inside at any given moment. Bikers, bankers, artists, a few lawyers, lots of office workers and folks who wandered in from off the busy streets in Pioneer Square.
They filled Whiskey Sharp with their own flair and flavor and it was truly one of the most fun parts of her job to be part of that daily ebb and flow.
* * *
VICKTOR ORLOV, IRENA’S SON, the guy who ran the bakery and one of what seemed like a dozen of Alexsei’s cousins, strolled in, placing a cup of coffee on her worktable on his way past.
“Thanks, handsome.”
“You’re welcome.” He hung up his coat and eased into Alexsei’s chair just across the way from hers.
“Is this your way of asking a favor?” She gave him a grin as she held up the cup. “Not that it’ll stop me from drinking it or anything. I’m just curious.”
“You don’t trust me?” Even when he frowned Vic was beautiful. “I’m simply here to watch you cut his hair. He’s like a cranky bear. What can I say? I’m easily amused.”
Beautiful, but a shit stirrer nonetheless. As it was generally good-natured, most people were amused by him rather than annoyed, which was a good thing.
“Alexsei just finished up with someone and disappeared for a moment. He’ll be back soon so you’ll be smart to stay out of arm’s reach.”
Vic smirked and she withheld her eye roll. The two of them were like brothers with the constant bickering and deep loyalty they had with one another. So weird, but she and Rachel could be very similar at times.
Maybe remembered there was a voice mail waiting from one of her parents and then shoved it to the back of her mind. It wasn’t time to let herself get upset over it.
She was at work. This place was her refuge. None of that crap came through the door with her and she liked it that way.
Alexsei, wearing a dour expression, headed over and flopped into her chair. “I’m ready.” He said it with the gravity of a man headed to surgery or something life threatening.
“You act like I’m going to cut you and then squeeze lemon on it.” Jeez, the big baby.
“It’s not that.” Whatever stern lecture she was about to get got sidetracked when he caught sight of what was in her hands. “Do you think those clippers? You can use mine.”
After setting the clippers down, she whipped the drape out with a snap to underline who was in charge just then. “I hate your clippers. That was your one and only free complaint. Last time you owed me enough to take my sister out to her favorite steak place. So keep on whining.”
Maybe set the jar she kept for such occasions on the table next to her coffee. It said Complaints: $10 and she strictly enforced it when Alexsei was in her chair.
He pursed his lips and she adjusted the clippers before giving him a smile in the mirror.
“I should get a free one because I’m speaking of Rada. She’s broken yet another phone and she wants me to go with her to buy a replacement.”
Maybe took a deep breath but kept a tsunami of annoyance reserved just for his ex-girlfriend deep inside where she pretended it didn’t exist.
“You look like you have a stomachache.” Vic smirked again. “Granted, Rada makes me feel like that too. Why do you even entertain this?” he asked Alexsei. “She’s got a new boyfriend. Why isn’t he doing this stuff?”
No shit. Maybe wished she knew too. Because one thing was clear and that was Alexsei had moved on. Months and months ago. And with at least four different women, not that she was counting. His ex was clingy and needy as hell and it made her teeth hurt.
But it was more of a matter of the way she’d just been used to him doing everything for her. Him or her damned family always picking up after her. Taking care of her like she was a toddler.
And none of it was her business. Maybe reminded herself of this fact over and over.
It was better that way. Something else she kept telling herself.
The men spoke back and forth in Russian until she flicked the back of Alexsei’s ear. He growled, but then apologized.
She’d learned enough Russian to understand when they were talking about a woman. But she couldn’t tell—because their Russian was rapid-fire—just exactly what.
“I can’t believe he lets you get away with that. He punched me in the chest the last time I flicked his ear.” Vic was on a roll.
“I’ll come flick your ear too if you don’t stop talking in another language in a clear bid to keep me from knowing the topic. So rude.” Her expression was prim.
“Always with the fancy talk.” Alexsei sighed and waved a lazy hand as she started to work.
“My parents would disagree that anything about me is fancy, especially the way I speak.”
She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but she kept her focus on hair and not the men around her, who’d gone even more quiet than usual.
Still, she knew he looked up to catch her eyes in the mirror’s reflection, even as she continued to keep her attention on her work because this wasn’t the time or place for that discussion.
The tools in her hands always kept her centered. In a way that nothing other than sex and music had been able to do.
“It makes me nervous when you’re quiet,” Alexsei said after another few minutes.
Surprised, Maybe let herself look up to snag his gaze in the mirror. A zing of chemistry hit her in her gut. And lower.
His mouth did this thing where one corner lifted and an honest-to-God dimple popped