Chapter 5
I’m at the age where a 22-year-old guy is looking kinda good, but so is his dad.
— Milena’s secret thoughts
MILENA
“ Are you sure about this?” my sister, Maven , asked.
I nodded. “ Sure , sure. Why ?”
“ Because usually you have Shasha deal with all of the building process,” she admitted, her smile becoming a bit of a leer.
Maven was right.
Usually , when it came to building anything, I allowed my brother and business partner, Shasha , to have free rein.
But since this was my brainchild, I was going to be the one to meet with the carpenter who would set my dream in motion.
“ I need a distraction,” I said. “ And Shasha ruins everything.”
At least when it came to finish work.
We’d had three crews quit off our multiple businesses when we were at the end, and the same wouldn’t happen with my coffee shop. I wanted it done to my specifications, and I wanted it done in a timely manner.
If I wanted those two things, that meant that Shasha needed to stay far, far away.
“ You want to talk about last night?” she asked.
All of them knew.
They’d all been privy because of Brecken being on the phone with practically the entire family when it’d all gone down.
By the time I’d arrived home, I had a full house, and a lot of explaining to do.
The consensus for the night was that Asher would never be able to come anywhere near me again, or my brothers would kill him.
Literally .
Though Shasha and Dima —who’d been on FaceTime since he was deployed somewhere to parts unknown—hadn’t outright said they were going to kill him if he ever tried to contact me again, I knew them.
They were dangerous men.
They protected their own, too.
If Asher became a problem, one or the other would take care of it.
I just hoped that Asher was smart enough to realize that and not make contact.
“ I’m fine,” I admitted. “ I should’ve gone with my original gut instinct and stayed away from him. Everyone hated him, even your husband. I went against my gut instinct and stayed when I should’ve left.”
“ So does that mean I can set you up with the man from the police department I’ve been telling you about?” She batted her eyelashes at me.
I shook my head. “ You know this life that Shasha and Dima lead isn’t really conducive with that occupation. I know that you bury your head in the sand and all, but you have to realize how hard it is for us to not share everything with you. Auden is a great guy, but we’d never put y’all into that kind of position. And I definitely don’t want to be doing it with a man that I’m supposed to share everything with.”
She frowned. “ But Nastya does it with her husband.”
I thought about Nastya’s husband, Haze Hopkins . He was a detective for the Fort Worth Police Department .
I opened my mouth to tell her why it worked, then closed it.
I knew that Maven would hold our confidences, but I didn’t want her to have to.
Haze was different.
He was burned out on life as an officer.
He no longer believed in the system.
Years before he’d met Nastya , he’d started to go a little darker and darker until he met her.
After Nastya , all sense of duty he felt toward his oath to the citizens had vanished.
Everything that the system had done to her, paired with her almost dying and the police doing nothing, solidified his belief that there had to be something more done.
So , he’d joined forces with my brother. My brother who righted wrongs and made no apologies for how he had to do it.
Haze was an inside man and fed Shasha any information that he needed. He also kept his ear to the ground for any rumblings on Shasha’s side that might make him a target of police attention.
Meanwhile , Haze’s help allowed Shasha to do his job better.
His job as the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva .
“ Nastya and Haze have a relationship that I would never be able to balance,” I admitted. “ I’m sorry, Maven , but I’m just not interested in sharing that kind of life with a police officer.”
Maven sighed right before her phone buzzed on the counter between us.
“ Duty calls.” She stood up. “ Send me the designs when you get them. I’m excited that you’re finally getting this place exactly how you want it. Oh , and good luck with your interview today.”
I grimaced.
I was meeting with the carpenter at eleven and a possible new hire at eleven-forty-five.
Hopefully the two didn’t overlap.
I tried to make the interview appointment for earlier, but the woman coming in had said that she couldn’t get there any earlier. Which didn’t bode well for me, but I chose not to doom the interview before it’d actually happened.
“ Ugh ,” I grumbled. “ I actually forgot about the interview.”
“ I was going to suggest you talk to a girl I met recently. I’ll send her your info. She’s a good kid. Her daddy says she needs a job, and he’s pretty particular about where, because she’s sort of high-profile.” She looked back at my bodyguard— Bogdan , one of my brother’s men—and said, “ She has her own bodyguards.”
My brows rose. “ Why’s that?”
She looked at her phone and started tapping away.
My phone buzzed, and I looked down at the screen to see that I was in a group chat with Maven and an unfamiliar number.
Maven :
Becky , this is Maven . You were talking to me about a job you were looking for, and I think I might’ve found the perfect one for you. This is my sister, Milena . She owns a coffee shop. It’s called The Grizzly . Come down and meet her!
“ Her dad’s someone important. I’m not sure who, or why, but…”
Becky :
I can only work really early hours. Five to maybe ten a.m. I have classes at eleven.
Me :
That’s perfect. Come apply.
Becky :
OMW
“ That’s teenage speak for ‘on my way.’” Maven snickered.
“ I feel like this might be too good to be true,” I admitted.
Maven shrugged. “ She worked really well when she came in with one of my other workers for the day. They’re best friends. I don’t need another helper, or I might’ve hired her myself. I really gotta go, though. I have to stop next door at the bakery before I leave,” she relayed.
I waved her off and watched her go out of the coffee shop doors, then walk right through the bakery doors.
Years ago, when we’d first started talking about attaching my coffee shop to her bakery, it’d been a pipe dream. Something we’d thought might never come to fruition.
However , last year, both Auden and Shasha had brought it up, and Shasha had run with it.
Now , we had a brand new, state-of-the-art building.
On the left side was her now-finished bakery, and on the right was my coffee shop.
Maven’s staff had made the move with her.
Mine had, like always, flaked out on me.
Though , I couldn’t blame them really.
We’d gone from having the coffee shop in Dallas to about twenty-two minutes east of Dallas in Sunnyvale .
Most of my workers didn’t want to drive five minutes, let alone twenty to get to work.
Hence the interviews.
I turned to survey the bare walls of the coffee shop.
Just as I was daydreaming on what it would look like, I heard the door swish open behind me.
Expecting it to be Maven again, I didn’t turn around, and instead said, “ Please , please tell me you came bearing gifts. I could really go for a pastry right now.”
“ Sorry ,” a deep, very delicious sounding male voice said from behind me. “ No pastries, but I see that there’s a bakery next door.”
I whirled around, my black hair swirling with me, and stared at the man behind me.
“ I …” I started to say, but recognition hit, and my voice fell off.
It was him.
The man that’d saved me last night from Asher .
I opened my mouth, then closed it, unable to get words out.
“ See you’re lookin’ a little better today than you were last night. All those tears made your face really red and blotchy, and the mascara that was melting down your face wasn’t the best look…” he rumbled.
I snorted, unable to stop myself. “ No , I’m not a very pretty crier.”
“ No .” He chuckled. “ You aren’t.”
He came up to me then, offering me his hand.
I took it, amazed by just how large it was.
Last night when I’d extended mine to his, I hadn’t been thinking about how big his hand was, or how masculine. I didn’t notice the roughness of his calluses or the way his fingers felt so damn strong.
I’d been thinking about getting away from Asher and nothing else.
But today, when fear wasn’t overpowering me, I could take in all the features I’d skipped over last night.
The man was tall, as in well over six foot.
He was very muscular, and the way his white t-shirt stretched over those muscles was nothing short of delicious.
He had abs. Abs that I could see through a hole in his white t-shirt.
Not a big one, but enough of a hole that I could see definition.
His jeans were well worn. Both with the way he wore them—my god, he could fill out a pair of jeans—and the way they looked like they’d been worn so many times that they were one wash away from being unwearable.
He had on brown work boots that had wood dust in the crevices, and my goodness, the size of his feet…
“ I’m sorry. For last night. I was a little distraught,” I said to cover up my perusal of his delectable body.
Fresh off a breakup, and I was already eating someone up with my eyes.
Though , you’d have to be fuckin’ dead not to eat this man’s body up.
“ It’s okay,” he returned. “ I think that you’re allowed to be distraught when you’re being rode around on a bike going way too fast for your comfort. He gives the rest of us a bad name.”
“ Well , Mr . Clayborne , you’ll be happy to know that my brothers will kill him if he ever comes close to me again, so I’m good,” I shared.
The way he flashed me a swift smile had my heart thumping hard in my chest.
“ I would hope so,” he stated. “ And call me Cutter .”
“ Cutter ,” I said. “ My name is Milena Semyonov .”
He grinned. “ I know.”
“ Oh .” I hit my forehead with my hand. “ Last night. You probably got that, didn’t you?”
“ I did,” he said as he turned to survey the space. “ What’s your budget?”
I looked at the space with him and said, “ I don’t have one.”
He turned to me and I twisted my head to look at him.
Damn , he was closer than I thought, and it made my mouth dry.
Which was, of course, when my stomach started to make itself known.
My stomach felt so bloated today after the pizza I’d inhaled last night when I got home that it’d been churning with it all morning.
I pressed a hand to my stomach and felt the pressure start to build.
I steeled my stomach and reiterated, “ There is no limit. I want this done right. I don’t care how much it costs. If I cared, I would’ve gone with the builder’s recommendation. Instead , I called around and had you suggested to me well over four times. So I called you.” I paused. “ I was aware that you weren’t cheap. I was warned. But the work that I’ve seen of yours…it’s phenomenal. And I want this place exactly how I want it.”
“ Good ,” he said. “ Now tell me what you want.”
I did, explaining how I wanted floor-to-ceiling shelving behind the register. How I wanted the register/counter area to be one huge island with glass blocking the public from the product. I told him about my wants and desires with the side of the room.
I told him about how I wanted the bathrooms to look. I told him about the window from my back area to Maven’s kitchen area, so we could pass her product back and forth, along with the coffees that were ordered on her side.
And after I was done, my stomach was now so bloated with gas that I didn’t dare move too much from where I was planted.
During the entire discussion, the man— Cutter —walked around and took note of everything.
Only when I was done with my explanation did he say, “ I’m going to take a lot of measurements today. I’ll do that now if you’re okay with it.”
I was.
“ Sure ,” I said a little bit desperately. “ When you get done in here, let me know, and you can measure my office, too.”
I seriously needed to visit a room that was far away from him.
Far , far away.
Because the gas in my belly was about to explode.
“ I’ll be in my office if you need me.” I smiled.
He jerked his chin in the affirmative.
His eyes followed my movement from the main room to the back hallway.
I walked slowly, disappearing into my unfinished office.
The door closed, and I counted to thirty, hoping that my stomach would get under control.
But , of course, it didn’t.
I had trigger foods.
Pizza and beer were two of them, and both of those I’d consumed in volume last night.
I didn’t want to say that I was lactose intolerant, because I wasn’t.
I was more gluten intolerant than anything else.
But in my opinion, the gas was worth the pleasure of eating pizza.
Not to mention, this morning before leaving, I’d had a protein shake that never failed to add to my gassiness.
I sat down in my office chair, then decided…fuck it.
The explosion of air releasing from my body felt like a dream.
God , I really needed to stop eating pizza.
It never failed to really fuck me over.
Worse , I’d gained eight pounds.
Sure , I logically knew that I hadn’t actually gained eight pounds. The majority of it was water weight.
But that didn’t mean that I didn’t look like I was a bloated mess in front of the sexiest guy I’d ever seen.
I hated myself for wearing my running tights, Christmas Crocs , and oversized Great Smoky Mountains sweatshirt that I’d stolen from Dima .
I wasn’t even wearing makeup.
How underwhelming could I be?
There was a sharp bark of laughter outside my door, and I froze, my butthole puckering in fear.
NO .
No , no, no.
Then came the knock on the door.
My cheeks flamed when I realized that there was no way that he hadn’t heard everything that’d just come from my office.
Swallowing bile now, I stood up and prayed that when I opened the door, I’d find a family member outside and not the hottest guy I’d ever seen.
Except , my hopes were dashed as the door swung open on squeaky hinges, and there he was in all his devastatingly sexy glory.
“ Haven’t heard one that good since my sister let one off at the Christmas dinner table,” he drawled.
Yep .
Mortification .
That was a thing for me now, I guessed.
Before he could say anything, his phone rang, and he growled.
“ Give me a second,” he said as he pulled the phone out of his jeans and placed it to his ear. “ Seriously , please stop calling me. It’s getting really fuckin’ old.”
He paused and listened for a long moment, then he shook his head as he said, “ Dorie , I wasn’t born yesterday.”
He listened a little longer, then frowned, pulling the phone away from his face.
“ Let me ask you something,” he said, his eyes coming down to me. “ Correct me if I’m wrong, but if you last had sex with someone three months ago, it wouldn’t net you a pregnancy that’s only five weeks along, right?”
I blinked. “ Um , no. That’s not how it works.”
“ Thought so.” He turned the phone onto speaker and said, “ Dorie , I realize you’re trying to help this kid of yours, but I’m not that man.”
“ It’s your kid,” she declared for a fourth time.
“ You’re five weeks along. We haven’t had sex in three months. I’m sorry to break it to you, but that’s not how biology works,” he said. “ I even asked a woman. She has all those same parts. She agrees with me, too.”
“ Who is she?” she hissed, sounding pissed now.
Cutter’s devastatingly brown eyes came to me as he said, “ She’s beautiful. You’d probably hate her.”
Beautiful .
I blushed profusely.
He was being awfully nice…
“ I’ll bet she’s hideous,” she snarled. “ Does she know that you’re cheating on me?”
“ Dorie ,” he said patiently, “ I’m going to explain a few things to you very carefully. One , we broke up. Two , we were never serious. Three , I always used condoms, and you were on birth control. Four , if you’re five weeks along, that means that you fucked someone…”
He proceeded to give the best biology lesson he could ever give.
He was very knowledgeable, and I couldn’t stop the smile that lit my face at his explanation into how the female reproductive cycle worked.
After a bit more screeching, he said, “ I’m blocking you now. Have a nice life.”
Then he hung up.
He shoved his phone back into his pocket, and it immediately started to vibrate.
Instead of reaching for it, he turned to me and said, “ I have a few questions to ask you about the bathrooms.”
I followed him to the bathroom, still thoroughly embarrassed about what he’d likely heard me doing in my office.
“ All right, Go . Tell me which one of these is the men’s bathroom. Then tell me if you’re going to have a urinal in it or not.”
I scrunched up my nose. “ I’d planned on putting the men’s bathroom farther down the hall. I hate when I have to walk all the way down long hallways that are dark. It’s scary for women. And …urinals? Why would I put a urinal in?”
He looked at me like I was adorable, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
He then went on to explain the importance of urinals, and before I could stop myself, I blurted, “ If you’d put one in, I’d better go with your professional opinion.”
He winked, and I reacted with a start.
He pushed into the men’s bathroom and said, “ You’re cute.”
“ What does ‘ Go ’ mean?” I asked to satisfy my earlier curiosity as he pulled out his tape measure.
He’d called me ‘ Go Go ’ last night, too.
I remembered it specifically because it was an odd thing to call me in the middle of a breakdown.
“ Hold that, would you?” he requested as he gestured to the tip of the tape measure.
I caught it with my fingers and stood awkwardly.
“ Hold it up against the wall,” he instructed.
I did, giving him the best hold job I’d ever done in my life.
When he was finished, he turned and indulged me, “ Go . Indigo . The color of your eyes.”
Then he left me standing there in the bathroom, feeling…weirdly warm.
The first thing I did when I got back to my office was text my best friend.
Me :
I have the most embarrassing story to tell you about the man that’s making my cabinets and me. Are we still on for our long run tomorrow?