by Lauren Dane
Sometimes it got heated—well, often—but it wasn’t mean. Lots of passion. Rachel hadn’t known how to handle it at first. They’d grown up with quiet judgment from their mother and reprimand from one source only, their father.
Vic opened up, smiling at them both as he stepped back to admit them. “Come through. She’s already making you plates.”
He gave her a hug and brushed his lips over hers. A kiss that told everyone in the house they were together. A kiss Rachel knew the rest of the family was okay with as no one stopped what they were doing, though they all noticed.
Pavel shouted a hello before enveloping Maybe in a big hug and then, surprising Rachel, he gave her one too. Though not as ebullient as Maybe’s, which made her choke up a little. He knew enough to want her to know he was happy to see her but also knew she needed to be approached gently.
And then Vic was there, drawing her away toward the big dining room table where, as he’d noted, his mother had set out overflowing plates she described as “a little bite.”
Rachel wasted no time tucking in. She’d last eaten hours ago and the food smelled as good as it tasted. This was comfort food at its most perfect. Warm and hearty. The sauce on the golubtsi was spicy rather than sweet. Nestled up against that were the potatoes that padded the carbs until all her cells relaxed with a sigh.
She must have made the sigh audible because when she snapped from her food fugue, she noted Irena giving a satisfied nod. Vic draped an arm over the back of her chair, leaning back so he could continue flirting with his aunt Klara.
Klara gave his arm a blatant look and then tipped her chin. He grinned like he had a secret, unrepentant.
Before Rachel had kissed him that 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 gr
abbed 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 her features soften and get a little more tender. He was a sucker for her soft side. Wanted to coax it out. And when she was kind to his family, laughing and playing with them, it was like nothing he’d ever experienced.
“All right. But don’t expect me to take it easy on you tomorrow on our hike.”
“I’d never expect anything less. Now go lose some money to my father and I’ll get you some tea and me some vodka.”
CHAPTER SIX
HE KEPT AN eye on her—and her ass—as she climbed the trail ahead of him. Her hair pulled into two short little pigtails, sleek gear clinging to her figure. A strong, fit figure.
Out here she tended to move with measured confidence. He found it sexy that she knew what she was doing. Her strength and skill made it possible to enjoy the hike the way he did when he was out with his buddies in his hiking crew.
She didn’t need taking care of. Didn’t want it certainly. Out here she was in her element as much as he was. Another sexy thing.
It was cold but mostly clear, though he got the feeling she’d have been okay in the rain too. And when they got to the top of the trail where they’d be turning to head back, she pulled out a thermos. “Want some coffee?”
He sat on a log and patted the space next to him. “I do. I propose to trade cookies in exchange.”
“You’re handy to have around, Orlov.”
He pulled the cookies out while she poured them both a cup of coffee.
“Did you make these?” She indicated the cookie she nibbled on.
“Fresh yesterday morning. I set some by for this hike. I know your secret.”
She turned, a question on her face.
“You have a sweet tooth. Just know I’ll happily seduce you with whatever tools I have in my arsenal.”
Laughing, she stole another cookie from the bag on his lap.
“Have you loved baking since forever? I imagine growing up in the family business it’s easier that way. Were they bakers back in Russia?”
“My mother was a nursery school teacher. My dad worked in a factory. They came here in the early ’80s and they started the bakery on little more than a hope and a prayer and a Russian community here in Seattle hungry for a taste of home. We grew up in the bakery, but I didn’t always want to run the business.”
Life sometimes just happened to you. She’d know that better than most.
“So, what happened, if you don’t mind saying?” she asked.
“At one time I had planned to be a cop.”
One of her brows went up. “And yet you make the best bread I’ve ever eaten in my life. You have a lot of talents, Vic.”
He laughed. “That’s how I know Seth. I’ve been volunteer search and rescue for the county. My team and I were helping some King County Sheriff’s officers find a kid who’d run away from a campsite. There was some Seattle PD crossover and he was there to help when we brought the boy back. Cristian came by with Alexsei and they met.”
“Aw, I love that story. What changed it? I mean from sheriff wannabe to baker? Family expectations?”
He took a deep breath. “You know we had an older brother who died. Danil. We don’t often talk about the how. Anyway, he was supposed to take over for our parents. So I worked there part-time but mainly stepped out of his way. But he was troubled. Sick. Addicted. As he began to fray, it got more and more obvious I’d have to step in full-time.”
The pain of the memories rolled through him. Held back a little by the distance of time.
She took his hand. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”
It wasn’t his shame. But it sure was his pain.
“He robbed a store. For drug money. And got caught. He went to jail. Which was good in that he got clean. But then he was released and he wasn’t clean. Not really.”
She put her head on his shoulder.
“He overdosed before trial. My parents...they fell apart. They were ashamed and felt guilty and responsible. My aunt did all she could. People worked overtime to shoulder the load, but it was necessary for me to commit to running the bakery full-time. Danil was supposed to do it. It was supposed to be his place. But I’m doing it.”
“I’m sorry. What a tragic situation.”
He sighed. “When we were kids he was my protector. Always the life of the party. I guess that should have been a clue. He just didn’t know when to stop. And it killed him and nearly destroyed the family.”
But in the end, it had given Vic a future he’d never imagined. And he’d been part of keeping the family together. He’d learned a lot about himself. About what family truly meant.
“Your parents aren’t the only ones with survivor’s guilt.” A statement.
Vic looked at her carefully. It was cold enough that their breath misted around their faces. The scent of the coffee mixed with the pungent evergreens still lush even in winter.
“That sounds like you might know a thing or two about it,” he said.
It wasn’t that she never spoke of her experience. He knew the basics. But it never went very deep. He never pressed and she never offered. Until then.
“I know what it means to understand one thing and occasionally feel another. I know what it feels like to second-guess every choice. And what it feels like to know some of those choices were bad ones. Did you go to therapy at all?”
“The whole family did a few sessions. Evie had a lot of trouble in school for a while. It happened during her senior year of high school. My parents are very skeptical of therapy in general, but they did agree to attend a few sessions. I wish they’d done more, but they were so reluctant and after a while it turned into a fight every time. And you know, I’d had enough fighting with them. I just wanted them to be happy and be able to get past his death.”
Rachel nodded. “I understand.”
He got the feeling she really did. And something inside him that had been knotted loosened just a little.
“I’m glad, by the way, that I made the choices I did. I enjoy the bakery. I love that it’s a family business and that despite the bickering, we’re all working toward the same goal. I love to see my aunt and my cousins pretty much daily.”
“And it means you bring bread to me. Which is always a plus as far as I’m concerned. And if I fall into a crevasse you can save me.”
He laughed, standing to brush off his butt and begin to put away their impromptu snack. “I will always save you from a crevasse. Not that there are any close. But if we climb Rainier or something, I’ve got you covered.”
She got her pack secured and gave him a face. “That was just talk. I don’t go near crevasses. I love hiking and biking and kayaking and that sort of thing. I don’t go ice camping or do any sort of extreme climbing.”
“I’m sure you’d be really good at it, though.�
�
“Maybe. But I’ve done enough time in hospitals so I try to avoid more.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m on board with that.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share that story. I’m sorry for all of you. But I’m glad you all had one another to get through,” she said.
“I learned a lot about who I was and who I could be if I tried harder,” he said as he took her hand.
They walked side by side for a while until the trail narrowed and they had to move single file.
“Valentine’s Day is coming up.”
She gave him a glance over her shoulder as she hiked in front of him. “I don’t have any expectations. I mean. This is new and—”
He interrupted her. “This is not new. I’ve known you for years. Alexsei and I were thinking of making you and Maybe a dinner at your house. With chocolate cake for dessert. The recipe is a closely guarded secret and I only break it out for the people who matter most to me.”
Now that she’d let him close he had no intention of sliding back into anything less than true honesty between them. Skittish was fine. Aloof wasn’t.
They made their way back to the parking lot, not talking. But he knew it wasn’t that she was ignoring him, but thinking of a response.
He enjoyed the birdsong until she stopped, turning to face him. “I love chocolate cake. And I love it when people make me food. You have excellent forearms and I like to look at them and your butt when you’re in a kitchen. I’m fairly sure I’d like to watch you bake.”
Her words spilled out, tumbling one after the next and he caught each one.
“You should feel free to come by the bakery when I’m working and I’ll set you up in the corner with a cup of tea and something sweet while you watch me knead dough.”
“Don’t joke. I think I just had an orgasm at that visual.”
He paused at the revelation of another layer of this woman. Then he grinned. “It’s not a joke. Especially after that comment. I’m there pretty much every day we’re open. Otherwise, should you need an orgasm, I’m happy to deliver that as well as dinner.”