8. Andrie
Andrie
“You’re being stupid, Andrie,” I whispered as I crept into my own house. “He’s not even here.”
With the goal of making sure Xander couldn’t find me at home—I was sure he was staying at Vik’s, and our houses were right next door, giving him a prime view of my comings and goings—I’d decided to run errands.
I’d cleaned my car until it looked like I was trying to get it ready to sell, picked up paint samples for my new office, and spent three times my normal amount of time in the grocery store, walking each aisle as if committing every single item on the shelf to memory.
It was a good plan until I pulled up to the house and realized, with Vik’s latest project still in my garage, I’d have to walk from the car to the house and back in multiple trips and leave my car in the driveway for the entire street to see. So much for staying out of sight.
I’d only managed one load when I heard Vik’s front door open.
“Hey, stranger,” Xander said, that raspy voice sending a bolt of lust through me.
Down girl, I chided, forcing a friendly but distant tone. “Hey, neighbor. Where’s Vik?”
He chuckled. “You think we need a chaperone? In broad daylight?” He gestured to the neighborhood. It wasn’t the most exclusive area, but it was clean-cut enough to raise eyebrows when people noticed Xander. He waved at Mrs. Johnson, smiling as she openly gawked as she drove by.
“Besides,” he continued, “it’s not like Vik did much last night to prevent what happened.”
Not waiting for a response, he grabbed a few of the heavier bags before walking into the house, not bothering to wait on me to follow.
Sputtering, I stood at the trunk for a few seconds before grabbing some bags of my own and hurrying inside.
“What do you think you’re doing, Xander?” I asked, ignoring the thrill of saying his name.
“Helping you take in groceries,” he said, too rough around the edges to pull off the innocent look he was going for.
“I didn’t ask for your help.” I began to pull out items from the bags, putting them away neatly even as I fumed.
“I’m pretty sure my mother would have wanted me to be a gentleman.”
“Bull. I don’t know much about your mother, but I’m pretty certain—”
“Vik, then. He’d want me to look after his little sister. And from what I understand, carrying bags for a woman is the epitome of southern manners. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to blend in,” he said pleasantly, almost cheerfully.
I rolled my eyes as he left for another load, unable to come up with a retort.
“Besides,” he said as he walked back in. “You can relax. I promised Vik I’d help him at the bar tonight. Brotherly bonding.”
He passed by me at the kitchen counter, and I could’ve sworn I felt him kiss the top of my head. “I just wanted to see you for a minute before we left.”
“Why?” I was starting to feel like I was in the middle of a whirlwind.
On paper, this man was supposed to be a member of one of the deadliest motorcycle clubs in the country and certainly not someone I should be associating with any more than I did any of the other operatives within that cell—assuming he was going to even be an operative.
In reality, other than our connection to Vik, we had nothing in common, and I couldn’t understand why I not only seemed to go weak at the knees around him, but why he had anything more than a passing interest in me.
“Because seeing you makes me happy.”
He was so matter of fact that I could only blink.
“You should take a bubble bath. Have a glass of wine. You know, relax,” he said as he handed me a carton of strawberries.
“I-I don’t take baths,” was all I could get out. Not ever again. Not after …
Xander stopped and turned to face me as if I’d said something totally foreign. “You don’t take baths?”
Slowly, I shook my head. “Umm … no?”
“Then, what the hell do you do to unwind?”
I couldn’t help but smile at how flabbergasted he was.
“I read, listen to music, and garden. Work out, if I’m feeling antsy,” I answered, trying to remember the last time I’d done, well, any of that, with the purpose of relaxing.
I worked out three times a week for an hour and read pertinent journals to my field.
I listened to classical music when driving to and from work and only weeded mine and Vik’s flower gardens to ensure our houses didn’t stand out as unkempt or out of place.
When was the last time I’d read a book for pleasure or listened to my favorite band?
Hell, I hadn’t even planted a garden in all the years I’d lived in Texas, despite the fact that, even in Russia, I’d had flowers in pots all over our apartment and always had my own flower garden growing up.
“That’s … huh. Well, then, I guess … do whatever you do to relax tonight, all right?” Xander said, pulling me from my thoughts, his expression skeptical.
“All right,” I said slowly, still mystified as to why a man I’d met less than a day ago was giving me orders, and worse, why I was entertaining the idea that he was right.
He held up his hand as if reading my thoughts.
“I’m not saying you need a keeper when it’s perfectly clear you’re a capable, independent woman.
All I’m saying is you seem like a person who spends her time looking after others and doesn’t take a lot of time to think of yourself.
It’s Saturday night. If you’re not going to cut loose and go wild on the town—”
“Did that last night, thank you very much,” I grumbled softly.
“You’re welcome,” he said, not missing a beat, before continuing, “Then, at least take some time out to pamper yourself here at home.”
He left after helping me put away the last of the groceries, promising he’d see me tomorrow, then walking out the door before I could tell him no.
I stood, stunned, for a few minutes, unsure what to make of him before slowly shaking my head.
As much as I would have protested at the top of my lungs that I didn’t want a man—and I didn’t, not unless they were Demi—there was something about Xander that intrigued me.
With his wide shouldered, well-muscled frame that strained his shirt seemingly to the point of breaking, array of tattoos, shaved head, and grim expression, you’d think you were looking at a killer.
And I had no doubt—knowing what Vik and Demi’s lives consisted of in Russia—that Xander was indeed capable of killing, but there was a sweet side to him, too.
He’d come over just to help with the groceries, and this morning, he hadn’t batted an eye when I’d told him I needed to run out the door to see a patient.
Maybe that was why I was attracted to him?
Demi himself was a hard man, feared by many—even those who were around him the most. But with me, when he knew we weren’t being monitored anyway, he’d been loving and affectionate.
I bit my lip, thinking about Xander’s question about taking a bath.
Demi and I had fallen into a routine of taking one together whenever we had time to ourselves.
He’d hated his life—hated what his family had made him do—and bathing away the sins of the day, purging what little he could talk to me about from his system, before focusing on solely each other were some of my most cherished memories.
That we could share as much as we did with each other, lightening each other’s load, and then stay in a bubble bath, feeling like the only two people in the world, meant everything to me.
Those were the few times I’d seen the real Demi—not the Bratva member or son of a weapons dealer or even the dangerous man who killed without remorse—but the sweet and even playful soul he would’ve been had he been raised by different people.
And he’d been careful to keep that side of himself hidden and protected from the world he’d been born into.
No, I wouldn’t take a bath. But Xander was right that I needed some time to unwind. I hadn’t taken time to just … be … in too long. Maybe a nap, novel, and some music out on the back porch was just what I needed to get my head back on straight.
Grabbing my phone, a speaker, book, and a glass of sweet tea, I settled into my lawn chair and queued up my favorite playlist, keeping the volume down low enough to hear the familiar sounds of the neighborhood around me as I snuggled into the worn seat.
Cars cruised slowly through the street out front, and the familiar sounds of the neighborhood kids playing basketball a few houses down mixed with the music.
The Texas heat, slightly mitigated by a cool breeze coming off the Gulf, quickly had my eyes drooping.
While last night had certainly been a lot of things, restful wasn’t one of them.
Letting out a sigh, I tried to blink away my malaise and reached for my book.
I’d bought it six months ago when it had come out but hadn’t even opened the cover since I’d brought it home.
I barely got through the first chapter before drifting off.