Whiskey Sharp: Unraveled

Taciturn, though not nearly as bad as he’d been when she’d first met him. Still, he tended toward one-word answers, snarls, eyebrow raises and glares to get his communicating done. And she was beginning to believe he loved to poke at her with each one of those things.

Over the last several months especially, it had felt a lot like foreplay.

Which she was trying not to think about too much because if she did she’d have to tell herself not to flirt with him or let their chemistry get any better because she wanted to make really bad choices with him.

A lot.

He turned after placing the cloth back into a drawer and latched those chocolate-brown eyes of his on her. Held her there as he took her in.

Intense. So much more intense than she ever really found attractive and yet there she was with her pink parts doing the forbidden dance anyway.

Maybe swallowed and found her sass enough to get herself back under control. She was a badass, not some simpering newbie!

“Good day to you, fine gentlemen.” She held a bag aloft. “I come bearing cookies and a loaf of black bread with salmon your aunt insists must be eaten immediately because it will never taste better than now.”

“I’ve booked your three p.m. slot,” Alexsei told her as he passed, snatching the food. “You will eat before you cut my hair and give me a shave.”

He didn’t even ask.

He—along with pretty much his entire family—had a thing about feeding Rachel and Maybe both. It was their way of expressing, well, pretty much everything.

Alexsei was also really bossy. And he expressed all his bossiness on what he considered taking care of the people he considered his.

She’d become one of those people. As had her sister, by extension.

Maybe grabbed her tea mug before heading over to the bar area. He saw her moving his way and rumbled his approval.

Rumbled. Like a fucking bear and yet she really dug it. His accent did such crazy, really dirty things to her too. The whole package just drove her totally and utterly crazy.

“My cousin Gregori brought it back from London.” He held a bright red tin of tea aloft a moment. “Just finished brewing.”

He took her mug to pour for her, the muscles in his hands and forearms flexing as he did.

Honestly, she should have felt bad for the super filthy things such a simple task made her feel, but she couldn’t. However, up until recently, he’d been in a two-year relationship. Add the fact that he was her boss and she’d been able to admire from a distance and keep him firmly in fantasy-fuck land.

Until about eight months 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 out, even through his magnificent beard. Even his goddamn dimple was bossy and couldn’t be bothered letting itself be hidden.

It shouldn’t get her hot. Dominant men like Alexsei were so not her type. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. Enough that it had driven her to run away at sixteen.

But when it came from Alexsei, it flipped her switch. Perhaps it was because he was dominant but not heavy-handed. Or maybe it was the accent. Whatever it was. It worked.

She had to clear her throat and focus on her hands again or she would actually screw up and he’d never let her hear the end of it. “I was concentrating. You’ve got a very low opinion of haircuts that aren’t absolutely perfect.”

“What sort of person has a high opinion of bad haircuts?” He made a little growly sound of disapproval that raised the temperature a few degrees. In her pants.

“You get mad at the weirdest stuff, man.” Vic just shook his head.

“They call it having standards. You should try it.” Alexsei sniffed but never moved. He had a lot of discipline that way.

Maybe brushed the back of his neck to get rid of stray hairs before circling to get a look at his face. “Why don’t you schedule shaves for first thing in the day?”

“I have to pick someone up from the airport later.”

“Your mom?” Maybe indicated he lean his head back. What she knew about Alexsei’s mother had mainly come from Irena. Alexsei’s aunt loved her little sister, but it was pretty clear she disapproved of the way Alexsei and his siblings had been parented before the boys showed up on her doorstep.

Then again, Irena disapproved of a lot of things. Most things. It just made Maybe and Rachel feel special that, for whatever reason, their neighbors had adopted them into their little circle.

It would suck large if Irena didn’t like you.

He grunted his assent to her question. “Her plane arrives in a few hours. No sandalwood while she’s here. She doesn’t like it.”

He’d never told her not to use a certain product before to save the preferences of anyone else. On one hand, she liked it that he cared about what his mother thought. And it wasn’t applied to a date, also good. But she heard the vulnerability there under the domineering tone. Which meant he could get hurt and she disliked that.

He was very crunchy on the outside, but he had a soft center. It was a poorly kept secret that pleased her to no end.

She hoped very much that his mother understood how blessed she was to have sons like hers as well as a sister who’d raised them when she decided to send them halfway across the world in their teens while she stayed back in Russia.

Maybe held up a deep blue jar. “Smells like the ocean. Many of my clients like it. Want to try?”

His frown made her snicker.

“I have unscented product too. Let’s use that.” She liked to use her fingertips to massage in the pre-shave oil. It enabled her to be more precise. And she liked to touch Alexsei when he was relaxed and at her mercy. He was always on. Always ready to spring to protect, handle or direct someone.

But in her chair, she got to pamper him a little.

Once she’d gotten the hot towel on, she left him for a moment as she sucked down some coffee.

“I’ll stick around until close tonight. That way you can get your mom settled in and not worry,” she told him.

“Too long for you to be here. I’ll come back just before ten. She’ll most likely be sleeping anyway,” he said once she’d taken the towel away. It wasn’t as if he was at Whiskey Sharp every moment of every business day anyway, but she knew he liked to know what was happening and if he was out with his mother, he’d be thinking about it.

But he had other employees, including their shop manager, who handled both the barbershop and the bar when it came to opening and closing and that sort of stuff.

And really, it wasn’t as if anyone could make the man do something he already had his mind set against.

“If you’re sure. Otherwise, call me and I’ll handle it. I’m having dinner down here anyway.”

He was tense under her hands once she’d gotten him lathered up.

“Hot date?” Vic asked.

She shrugged. “I hope so. It’s the third date. That’s a big one.”

Vic laughed.

“Why are you laughing? What is a big one?” Alexsei demanded.

“Dude, stop moving. Relax for heaven’s sake.” She held the razor’s edge away from his skin until he settled again.

“It’s a sex thing,” Vic told him.

“Not really.” She sniffed. Annoyed, though she knew he hadn’t meant it to be offensive. She hated the idea that women held on to their pink parts to get something from men. Like she needed to wait until three dates? If she wanted to fuck, she’d fuck. And it didn’t matter if it was the first date or the fifteenth. It was about her connection and trust level with that other person.

She went on, “To be more specific, it’s a schedule of consideration. By the third date I’m thinking about whether a guy is double-digit date material.”

Though he held very still as she worked on his throat, he still growled. “And if he is? What then?”

“That’s just another level of commitment. Like is he a dude I date while dating other people too? Is he a long-term guy I date and have sex with but I can’t really see myself married or serious? Or, will he be that person I finally see forever with?”

“Women have a very serious checklist,” Vic said.

“I’m old enough to know what I want and not be ashamed of it,” she said. “But relationships only work if both parties are on the same page after a certain point.”

* * *

ALEXSEI HOPED SHE wasn’t done yet because there’s no way he could have stood without the entire shop knowing she turned him on.

Her fingers massaging oil and then shaving cream into his skin, the way she bent close as she scraped the straight razor over his beard. He could smell her skin. And her hair. Currently fire-engine red, it also smelled like apples.

He’d been staring at her pulse point just below her ear. Her heart beat so fast he could see her skin jump. And that’s when it hit him that it was time to stop messing around and ask her out.

More accurately, he’d been craving her more and more each day until the point where it was impossible for him to ignore. He’d woken up that morning in a bed in a house that didn’t belong to him. House-sitting had kept a roof over his head since he’d moved out of the place he and Rada had shared. And he’d been able to save up a decent amount for a down payment on a place of his own. Once he decided to look, at any rate.

But he’d woken up thinking of her. After he’d gone to bed thinking of her, wondering where she’d been and what she’d been up to. He’d lain there, sleep slowly leaving him, but the sense of needing her hadn’t.

Plain and simple, he’d come to a place where if he didn’t pursue her, he’d be lying to them both.

Then she’d brought up that date she had later. A year ago he’d have had a pang of jealousy. Wondering what if he’d ever given in to his attraction to the strange woman who worked in his shop.

A year ago he’d still been trying to make his relationship with Rada work though they’d both given up by that point and were just going through the motions.

Now that he’d settled in to life after that engagement had finally been broken in public—they’d broken up privately three months before that—there was a lot more than a pang.

He hated the idea of Maybe being with anyone else. Hated the thought of this date she was going to being the one she decided to give this other man a chance to be with her.

Hated, too, that if she ended up with someone right then, it would have been his own damned fault for not just making his move months before.

But he’d been antsy. Needed to roam a little. To turn over in his head whether or not he wanted to be serious with anyone at all, despite his craving for Maybe.

And for a while, he’d led with his dick and had enjoyed himself that way.

But he always turned his attention back to her. Over and over and finally he’d realized he was done fucking around and needed to pay attention to his feelings about her to see if they were worth investigating further.

Not his type, or what he’d always thought was his type until he’d met her. Perhaps it was more a measure of that, the fact that no one was like her. Maybe never shut up. At first he’d been stunned by it, but over time, he tended to have better days when she was working than when she was off. Whiskey Sharp was too quiet without his little bird flitting around, chirping and chattering.

She was the heart of the shop. Like an annoying little sister who managed to keep them all in line.

Except for him. He had absolutely no brotherly feelings about her whatsoever.

First things first, he had to deal with this visit from his mother and the resulting fallout among his family. Then he’d turn his energy and focus to seeing if he could nudge Maybe into a date or two. See if he could get himself into double-digit territory.

His mother was arriving from New York in just a few hours. She’d been in New Jersey with her new husband, who’d gone back to Moscow.

Alexsei wasn’t a fool. He knew she was only coming because his aunt had guilted her into it. His younger brother had recently bought a house with his partner. They hadn’t told her about the purchase yet and had asked Alexsei if he’d be there when they did.

He would always be at his brother’s side. Especially to protect him from whatever mayhem his mother brought into their lives.

The following night they had a big dinner planned at Irena’s house, where this would all take place. He only hoped his mother reacted well. For his brother’s sake.

And deep down inside, maybe he wanted his mother to see how far her children had come, how much they’d grown, and be proud.

Maybe finished up and her work, as always, was exemplary. It gave him a bit more confidence about the next few days. A small control, but one that was all about something he could do.

The heaviness of what he might be facing that night and over the next few days had killed his hard-on, but it twitched back to life when she slid the palm of her hand down the center of his chest, straightening his tie and adjusting his vest just exactly the way he preferred.

“I don’t know a single mother who could look at this man and not be proud. You’re so handsome.” She grinned and then turned to clean up her station.

He risked one long look from the heels of her boots, up long, denim-clad legs, across her shoulders where the tip of her ponytail hung.

When his mother left, he’d need to circle back to this developing thing between him and Maybe. The time had come to finally make that move or risk losing his chance forever.

CHAPTER THREE

BEFORE SHE WENT HOME, she needed to return the call she’d been dreading. So she sat in her car and, noting that it wasn’t quite nine yet, called her parents back.

“Hi, Dad. Returning your call from earlier. What’s going on?” Maybe tried to keep her tone light. Wanting to keep the mood positive instead of the negative it generally ran to after a few moments with them.

For a year or so after the kidnapping, they had a reasonably civil relationship but it’d begun to deteriorate fairly soon after that. She just wanted it to get back to bland civility, damn it.

“Thanksgiving is coming,” he clipped out.

“Yeah, in just three or so weeks.”

“Three weeks exactly.” Naturally he had to correct her. “Your mother would like Rachel, and you, at the table for such an important family holiday.”

The “and you” part brought a sigh to her chest, but she let it go. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know they had all this difficulty between them. Also family holiday? Puhleeze. She’d never even been invited to a holiday with her parents since the age of sixteen. Not until she and Rachel had moved to Seattle and bought their house did they find it within them to include her for anything at all, much less holidays.

“I’ll talk to Rachel about it and get back to you.” Rachel had enough experience with other people making her choices for a lifetime so Maybe wasn’t going to agree without talking to her first.

She went out of her way to give her sister the reins of her life. So that Rachel made her own decisions. That sort of independence was a necessary step to the life she had to build for herself since she got out of the hospital.

“She does what you tell her to. Tell her to come to her parents’ house at Thanksgiving.”

This time she didn’t hide her sigh. Sometimes, though they adored Rachel, they really didn’t seem to know her at all. They acted as if she was fragile, but to Maybe it felt more like they wanted it to look that way, but really, they were desperate to take over. To explain away the things Rachel had done as something someone else influenced her over. So they could swoop in and control her every move.

They still treated her as if her medical situation was precarious. Constantly bringing it up. Going out of their way to baby her.

Instead of making Rachel feel safe, it made her feel constricted and weak. Helpless to guide her own fate.

Rachel needed to be her own life’s captain and they didn’t see it as anything but some phase Maybe brought on for her own manipulative reasons.

And they didn’t know Maybe at all, damn it.

Bitterness surged, even as she tried to pretend it didn’t matter they believed she’d be capable of anything to cause deliberate harm to Rachel.

“She’s a grown woman who makes her own choices. I’ll let her know she’s invited.”

“Just get your life out of the bar for five minutes and put someone else first for once in your life,” he said.

The tone he used in private with her, a hard, mean voice full of disdain was so totally different than how he spoke to Rachel. It still startled Maybe after a lifetime of hearing it.