Whiskey Sharp: Jagged. Lauren Dane
first time, she’d been able to appreciate his charms but keep a distance between them. Now it was like her attraction to him—her awareness of him—was at ten.
He was fucking adorable. Irresistible. God help her.
Irena sat across from them at the table with a tired sigh. “Get the girl some tea, Vityunya.”
He kissed the top of her head as he stood and went off to do his mother’s bidding.
“This is all so good,” she told Irena as she made the superhuman effort not to stare at Vic’s butt while he puttered around in the kitchen.
Vic’s mother attempted a casual shrug but there was pleasure on her face at the compliment. Irena loved taking care of her family and friends. She baked you something if you were happy or sad. She made soup or dumplings if you were sick. A cluck or a tsk. A hug, a congratulations, a stern talking-to. A whole emotional language through food.
“Until we moved next door I’d never had cabbage rolls. I had no idea what I’d been missing,” Rachel said. Their mother had been a good cook, but for her, food had been a means to an end. Fuel and nutrients.
One of the reasons Rachel had been active from an early age was her mother’s constant focus on weight and clothing size. It had been Rachel’s way to control food and her body.
Still, she liked food and while she knew she tended toward obsession when it came to exercising and physical strength, she felt like she had a better handle on it than she ever had, even before the kidnapping.
Irena frowned and then pushed some bread and butter her way. “I will teach you. It’s easy.”
Rachel somehow doubted it was what she’d consider easy, but she liked knowing things. Liked learning and mastering things. And she liked being in Irena’s kitchen, in the heart of the house. Liked being part of what the Orlovs had built.
“I’d love that. I’m always happy to learn whatever you’re willing to teach me.”
“If she learns them then she can make them at our place,” Maybe said.
“Or you could make them for the rest of us. I’ll pay for groceries,” Rachel said before she thanked Vic for the mug of much-needed tea he brought her.
“I know you like the kind without caffeine so I bought some,” Irena told her.
“Better sleep at night without it so late in the day,” Vic said, as if to remind her he hadn’t forgotten about her sleep problems.
When Vic and his mother doted on her and did nice things, it made her extra blushy and a little shy. Sometimes she wondered what they saw in her that made them like her so much.
Evie joined them. “You’re here. Let’s talk about the tattoo I want.”
Panicked, Rachel looked to Irena and then Pavel. Evie’s parents frowned, but they didn’t say anything.
Vic snorted. “She’s a big girl. If she wants ink, they’re not going to stop her.”
“Not when you have it and they didn’t stop you,” Evie told him.
Irena chuckled as she waved a hand. “Don’t worry, Rachel, we don’t hold it against you.”
“I do. But you’re too sweet to stay mad at,” Pavel said.
That cracked her up. Vic’s dad was hilarious and nearly as adorable as his son. The noise level rose, but it was pleasant instead of annoying.
“Since your specialty is bird tattoos, I’ve been thinking about a firebird. The mythological kind. Which isn’t real of course, but it’s a bird,” Evie said.
“Why a firebird?” The answer would guide the design.
“When I was little, my mom would read us fairy tales from this beautiful old book she brought with her from Russia.”
“Color?”
Evie nodded.
Orange and yellow. Rachel could see the design in her head already. Placement would be key.
“Where?”
“I’ll leave that up to you. I have another small tattoo on my calf already. But. I want it big and bold.”
Irena said a long stream of something in Russian at that. Evie was an adult and if she wanted to get a head-to-toe tattoo it was her business. But that was between her and her parents, and as a child’s girlfriend, Rachel had no place in the discussion.
Finally they stopped sniping and Irena rolled her eyes, sitting ramrod straight. She’d said her piece and it was over.
Evie looked back to Rachel with an expectant smile.
“Call the shop and tell them to set you up with the appointment. I’ll work up a few sketches so you can look them over first.”
Evie clapped her hands, clearly excited, and it was impossible not to get caught up in it.
Vic’s sister wanted a tattoo from her. She mentioned other ink on her calf so she already had a tattoo artist she knew of. But the design she wanted meant something to her, which meant something to Rachel.
It also made it easier for Rachel to create an image meant for Evie and Evie alone. There would be other firebirds, but only one like what she’d put on Evie.
Every piece Rachel did was unique. Little details that no one else would have. It was just a little thing she did. And now she’d do one for Vic’s sister.
Stuffed and feeling rather warm and loose, Rachel sat back and rubbed her stomach. “That was so good. Thank you for inviting us to dinner.”
“A full house makes her happy,” Vic said.
“It does until a quiet house makes me happy,” Irena replied and Rachel could totally relate.
“Let me clean up,” Rachel said, standing and beginning to gather plates.
Irena made a dismissive sound. “You can help.”
Maybe joined them in the kitchen as they put away the food and then began the process of tackling the dishes. Vic came in to ferry whatever food that hadn’t fit in the fridge to the one in the garage.
It didn’t take very long and, in the meantime, the cards had come out, along with a chessboard, and Evie’s best friend—and Alexsei’s ex-fiancée—had shown up.
Maybe rolled her eyes, but only when no one could see her face except Rachel. Rada and Maybe had achieved a truce and were fine being civil with one another but Rachel knew her sister still thought the other woman was an asshole.
Vic grabbed her by the waist to waylay her, drawing her close. “It makes my mother happy to teach you things,” he murmured in her ear.
“It makes me happy to learn things and eat what she cooks.” She tried to get a little space, knowing they were being watched. “Really, I like your family.”
“That’s good. Since they’re part of the package.”
It was a pretty spectacular package, all teasing aside.
“Come play cards,” his father called out from the dining room.
“Aren’t you tired?” she asked Vic quietly.
“In a good way. If you want to go home, no one will be offended. But I’d like it if you stayed. They would too.”
A warm wave flowed over her. She knew the look on her face was goofy but it couldn’t be helped. She was happy.
“I’m a night owl. You’re the one who gets up at four every day.”
She’d be worth a tired day. “Not tomorrow though. I get to sleep in.” He wasn’t going to beg, but certainly a cajole would be fine.
Especially when it made