“We had an agreement. You weren’t to talk or think negative things about yourself anymore. No liquor and no ugly thoughts.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but you keep your hands to yourself, or I’m retaliating by practicing with Hannah on your truck.”
Preacher didn’t appear impressed. He made his way back behind the counter. “The agreement stated there could be no retaliation if you were punished for either of those two things. You always keep your word.”
Sabelia’s breath hissed out in a long slow exhale. “I think I’m going to need to drink whatever kind of tea I make for Maestro for my own tranquility.”
Maestro gave her a sympathetic grin. Preacher and Sabelia had a strange chemistry between them. Enemies, but the physical attraction between them couldn’t be denied. He had no idea why Preacher hadn’t acted on it. He certainly ran men off in the bar if they made a play for her.
“I’ll buy your cup of tea, Sabelia.” He poured sympathy into his voice, knowing it would irritate the shit out of Preacher.
Sure enough, Preacher looked up, glaring at Maestro. “She doesn’t need you to pay for her fucking tea, Maestro.”
It was all Maestro could do not to burst out laughing. “Just helping the lady out.” Preacher didn’t swear much. When they were children, he looked after Lana like she was his child. He couldn’t prevent the abuse she suffered, but he made certain all the kids down in that torture chamber of a basement knew Lana was under his protection. He didn’t want them swearing around her, and they respected his orders—for the most part.
“Don’t annoy me,” Preacher warned.
Sabelia rolled her eyes. “I live to annoy you. Don’t get all grumpy because someone wants to do something nice for me.” Her implication was that Preacher didn’t do nice things for her.
“I’m never grumpy,” Preacher denied. “Get to work before your boss comes in and finds you flirting outrageously with your customers.”
Color swept under Sabelia’s pale skin. Her long lashes fluttered as she glared at Preacher. “I don’t flirt with customers. That would be you.”
“Sabelia,” Savage interrupted. “I find this all very entertaining, but if I don’t get coffee soon, I’ll be the grumpy one.”
“Coming right up, Savage,” Sabelia swept past Preacher, going straight to the coffeepot.
Maestro’s phone vibrated. He pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced down, inwardly wincing as he read the text message from Azelie.
I had a wonderful time with you, Andrii. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I can’t keep the clothes and jewelry. You can pick the box up at the coffee shop. I am keeping the coat. I looked on the website at Label 287 but couldn’t find the amount I owe you for it, so I’ve emailed the designer asking. I’ll pay you back as soon as possible. Thank you again for a wonderful time, but clearly, it’s best if we don’t see each other again.
FIVE
Two days had gone by since her date with Andrii, and Azelie found herself more upset than she had realized she could be when she barely knew the man. She hadn’t gone back to the coffee shop after giving the box of clothing, shoes and jewelry to the owners, Shaila and David Manger. They promised to text her when Andrii came in to pick up the box. The text had come in that morning.
She still hadn’t gone to the coffee shop because she didn’t want to answer any questions. She knew the merry widows would ask her how her date had gone. What was there to say? He was perfect until he wasn’t? She’d blown it, but she didn’t know how? She felt sad. Bereft. The intensity of her emotions made no sense and raised another red flag for her. She had no business dating a man who brought out such overwhelming emotions in her.
Her phone dinged, letting her know she had a text message. She didn’t want to look because she knew it wouldn’t be from Andrii, or worse, it might be, and then she would have hope. She knew she was ruled by emotion, but she’d tried very hard to be more logical. Swearing off Andrii was logical. She couldn’t prevent herself from looking. The compulsion was too strong.
Coming up now. Open the door for me.
Her heart stuttered. Andrii. Already in the building. How did he get the code? He was on his way up to her door, and she was dressed in her ridiculous but very comfortable tank and drawstring flannels. She was barefoot and had no idea where her slippers were.
She caught up her phone and tried to hastily text to stop him from coming to her apartment. Her home was too small, and he would leave his presence everywhere. His scent would linger. She would dream of him, not that she didn’t already dream of him. Erotic dreams. She didn’t know which were worse, nightmares or erotic dreams that left her burning for him.
Before she could text, he knocked. She found herself hurrying to the door, one hand on the dead bolt.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Andrii,” she said without opening the door. Her voice sounded strangled. Husky. Her heart pounded with trepidation and excitement.
“It’s the only idea, Solnyshkuh. Unlock the door.”
His voice. Soft but commanding. Compelling. Goose bumps whispered along her skin and crept down her spine. She was so susceptible to him. Her hand was on the dead bolt almost of its own volition. Her brain wasn’t catching up.
“I’m not dressed,” she announced as she cracked open the door.
Opening the door was a mistake—a huge one. Looking at him standing there, dressed casually in dark jeans and a tee from a Queen concert stretched tight across the heavy muscles of his chest, took her breath away and robbed her of her ability to talk.
Very gently, Andrii put one hand to her belly and moved her back into her tiny living space, allowing him entry into the apartment. He closed the door behind him. In one hand he had a large rectangular box that was twice the size of the one she had so carefully taped up and given to the owners of the coffee shop to hold for him.
He immediately placed the box on the small coffee table she’d bought at a secondhand store. She rather liked that coffee table, with the inlaid tree of life in wood and the glass top covering it. There were a couple of small chips in the wood on the edges, but she had found the perfect match in wood stain and covered them. The box took up nearly the entire table.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, trying to find the right words to get him out of her space before it was too late.
“Andrii.” She detested that she sounded hesitant.
“Before you decide to throw me out, Zelie, let me apologize for my atrocious temper. My lack of control really hurt your feelings. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”
Azelie couldn’t take her eyes off of him as he moved around her small apartment easily. Even though he seemed to glide with only air under him, he took up all the space. Eventually, after going through the open-floor-plan kitchen area and sitting room and looking at the bed in the small space that was her bedroom, he flung himself into one of the two comfortable chairs she’d found at a garage sale. They both had thick cushions and were in fantastic shape. They were made with a forest-green leather that went perfectly with the coffee table.
She hadn’t expected an apology or an admission of a bad temper. He seemed so calm and in control, it was difficult to imagine that he had a temper.
“Did I scare you?” he asked when she remained silent.
She swallowed the first three things she wanted to say. None of them were true. Finally, she shrugged. “I wasn’t afraid you would hurt me physically.” That was true. It hadn’t occurred to her that Andrii might hit or slap her.
“I’m grateful you see into my character enough to know I would never abuse you in that way. You didn’t exactly answer my question. What are you afraid of? I know you’re attracted to me. I know you would like to try a relationship with me, but now you’re very reluctant, and you’re looking for reasons to throw me out without listening to me.”
