Lauren Dane - Whiskey Sharp - Jagged

He eased back, eating once again, but keeping his focus on her. “You’re attracted to me. We have some major chemistry. Are you saying I’m imagining it?”

She was a lot of things but she wasn’t a liar. Not even to herself.

“No. You’re not imagining it. Zing.” She waved a hand between them, indicating their attraction. “We’ve got it big time.”

His smile sent a shock of desire through her. “All right, that’s established. So why hesitate about coming out with me?”

“To be clear, I’m not hesitating about going out with you. I just wanted to be clear up front that I’m damaged goods.”

He sat back to take her in, all feline and powerful. He moved like music, caught her up in him like magic.

“You’re not damaged, Rachel. You’ve had life happen to you. And some of it was a nightmare.”

A nightmare she wasn’t entirely done with. Some scars never healed.

Most people wanted to save her. Pity her while being fascinated by the gruesome details.

He just was . When he was around her, he expected nothing more than what she wanted to give. She’d never really given thought to what it might feel like to be doing this slow dance into romance with someone like him.

Easy. Alluringly so.

“Look at you having such an intense discussion in your head.” He began to eat again.

She could have told him it was too risky. His cousin was now living in her house. Utterly besotted with her sister who adored him right back. Vic also happened to be close as brothers with Alexsei so if things went very badly between them it would impact pretty much every aspect of their lives. His parents lived next door, along with his sister. He only lived half a block up. They saw one another at the various events the bakery had booths at, as well as at the barbershop Alexsei owned and Maybe worked at too. Which was four minutes door-to-door from the tattoo shop Rachel worked at.

But she didn’t say any of it. Because he knew all that already.

“It’s just dinner. We can work our way up from there. If you were going to try to talk yourself out of it, you should have done it earlier,” he added.

“You’re right.” She snapped free of her internal argument and snorted. “Fine. I just want to be sure you’re going into this realizing what you’re doing.”

“I always know what I’m doing, Rachel. I’m deliberate. I always have been. I’ve wanted to go out with you for quite a long time,” he said in an infuriatingly calm voice.

She tore off a piece of toast and jammed it into her mouth, chewing a while before finally asking the question that’d been nagging at her. “So why now? What changed from yesterday? Or the day before?”

She couldn’t deal with pity. Not from him.

“I let you have yesterday because after that fuckery on Sunday you needed a break. I also knew you and Maybe took the day off to hang out and I left you alone. But Sunday is when I knew. I’ll give you all the reasons why when you’re ready to hear them.”

“When I’m ready to hear them?”

“That’s what I said. Tell me, how is work?” he asked, changing the subject. She began to demand he tell her but hesitated.

“Busy. Lots of people like to get ink around Valentine’s Day.”

“Romantic gestures they’ll have to get covered up in a year?”

“I thought I was jaded,” she said.

He blushed and she couldn’t help the way it moved her.

“I’m not jaded. I can see the appeal of getting ink for your sweetheart. I know several people with horror stories, but they’d have horror stories either way, I suppose. The bakery does a brisk business for Valentine’s Day too. This year Evie is making heart-shaped vatrushka and she uses strawberry in the center.”

Oooh! “Did you bring one of those? It doesn’t have to be shaped like a heart as it’s already a pastry and I’d just eat it anyway.”

“I didn’t. For our second date, I’ll bring you some to go with the roses.”

That the normally easygoing Vic was coming back to the second date thing clued her in to the fact that he also could be like a dog with a bone when it came to getting what he wanted.

Damn it. Every second that passed he just got sexier.

Thankfully, since she wanted it too.

The moment stretched out between them as they finished brunch. Rachel tried not to jump up to clear off the table and clean the kitchen, telling him since he cooked she’d clean. It gave her some physical space and something to do while she processed the way he made her feel.

Vic eased back, watching her. Giving her silence but not taking his focus away. Once he’d fully stepped into her world, he apparently wasn’t going anywhere.

Which, she had to admit, was a nice thing. She wanted to be wary of it. Look for ulterior motives. But...he wasn’t that guy.

“Ready to go? I took what I needed to drop off next door on the way here so I can take you straight in. My mom isn’t home or I’d take you over there first,” he added.

“Really?” A flush of happiness hit that Irena wanted to see her and say hello. Vic’s mom had become more and more involved in the lives of the Dolan sisters.

Actually, it was more that Rachel and Maybe had been involved in their lives. The Orlovs and their wonderful, giant, loud family who’d begun to treat them as if they were family too.

“Yes, really. She likes you and Maybe. You listen to her stories and let her teach you things in her kitchen. That means a lot to her.”

It was totally mutual. Being able to hang out in Irena’s kitchen had been a reasonably new experience in her life. Rachel loved it there. Vic’s mom knew so much about so many things and was always happy to share her expertise. She was hilarious and nurturing and in general, a lot of fun.

“It’s the other way around. She’s always so patient even when I’m terrible at something.” Rachel grabbed her things and made one last check to be sure the stove was turned off before they headed out.

Vic said, as they reached her front door, “It’s what moms do.” It must have been her snort in response because he paused and then said, “What they should do.”

Even though he’d reassured her that she had nothing to apologize for after that scene with her parents, it still embarrassed her that he’d witnessed it.

She used the excuse of locking her door to get herself together again. But when she turned, he was there, a hand out to stay her.

“Wait,” he murmured as he bent to zip her coat. “Don’t want you getting cold.”

It was so unexpectedly sweet it knocked her off balance a moment. “Thanks,” she managed to say right before he gave her a quick kiss. Right there on her front porch.

His hand, warm and sure, sat at the small of her back as he steered her to his car and opened the door for her.

On the way to the south end of downtown that made up Pioneer Square, where Ink Sisters was located, she could have told him she didn’t need a ride to work. She could have driven. She could take the bus and still make it on time.

But the truth was, she wanted to spend more time with him. He smelled good and it was really cold and parking was expensive.

And she wanted to be able to be honest about her life with someone other than Maybe and their best friend, Cora.

He lightened her mood just by being around. Accepted her without expectations that felt like a burden.

“If it helps any, my mother is bossy and nosy and insufferably meddlesome sometimes,” Vic told her, surprising a laugh from her lips.

It used to feel sort of rusty when she laughed. Like an old hinge on a door not often used. But it didn’t feel like an act to laugh with him, didn’t feel unnatural to guffaw or snicker.