Chapter 4
Nadya
EITHER I REALLY LIKED Nick or got tired of the way my ribs pressed in when I was alone. Dinner. A date-like activity. I never did things like that. Not that no one had ever asked me out or anything like that, but dates were a one-way ticket to talking about my feelings. No, thanks.
So, why had I agreed to this?
Nick cleaned up—shirt half-buttoned, sleeves rolled past his elbows—revealing scars that ran like map lines up his left forearm. There was a story there, but I didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer. Perfect equilibrium.
He picked up his car keys in a casual gesture that made my pulse spike for a second. Memories of old leather seats and hands on my knee still made my skin tighten.
“We should walk. I mean, parking is terrible out here,” I told him.
“Right, it’s not that far. Forgot.” He gave me a sheepish smile. Was he nervous? Because of me?
Before I could overthink it, I followed Nick out of the hotel. Should I be flattered or freaked out? Because if he was nervous then he might want more than sex, and I just couldn’t go there. We already had sex, so he couldn’t be nervous about not getting laid. Clearly, that wasn’t a problem here.
As soon as he picked a direction, I knew exactly where he was taking me.
It wasn’t a bad place, actually. They redecorated a couple of years ago and spiced up their menu, quickly earning their place in my heart.
Not that I came here often, but when I had the chance, I enjoyed the hell out of their desserts.
As we reached the diner, Nick opened the door for me, and for a split second, his hand rested on my back—warm, real, not reaching for anything.
Such a strange, comfortable feeling. I mean, we had sex, so he was obviously attracted to me, but it wasn’t the only driving factor.
Which shouldn’t be a good thing since I really didn’t want a relationship, but I also liked this.
What the hell was wrong with me tonight?
Inside, it looked much nicer than you’d expect. They even had flowers and white tablecloths on every table. Not that I was here for the decor, but still, for a restaurant that called itself a diner, they went a step further than they had to, and I loved it.
We slid into a booth by the window. Nick sat across but stretched his legs until our knees bumped under the table. He didn’t apologize. I pretended not to notice and didn’t pull away.
A server with jangling bangles dropped two glasses of water and menus in front of us, then gave us a few minutes to decide what to order.
“So, how long have you lived in Brooklyn?” Nick asked as soon as the waitress disappeared.
That was my cue to lie or dodge. “Awhile. You?”
“Here to consult.”
“Spy work?” I asked.
He snorted. “Nothing that cool. I don’t have the wardrobe.”
He did, though—the shirt was old but soft, the watch expensive. A fresh cut.
“Military?” I pried.
“Navy.” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “The cool part of the navy.”
“There’s the uncool part?”
The server returned, saving Nick from having to answer. I decided to skip the less-fun part of the meal and ordered lemon meringue. Nick ordered pasta, fish, and even a salad.
Vera would not have approved of this choice and read me another lecture about my sweet tooth.
I could practically hear her stern voice telling me to at least try adding some vitamins in between all the sugar.
And I’d tell her that lemon meringue had lemon juice in it, so that covered vitamin C.
No one could say I wasn’t eating healthy when I was eating Vitamin C.
Oh, and there were eggs and cream, so that’s protein.
As soon as the waitress left, I leaned forward, needing to ask the next question before he started asking about my life. “So, if you were in the military, does it mean you have a nickname or code name or something like that?”
He let out a pained groan. “Tuna.”
“Tuna?” Was there some story about him eating too much canned fish? “Why?”
“Because I have a big mouth, apparently. I was bragging to my buddies about how well my training was going and said for sure I’d become a SEAL. The army guys we were stationed with overheard and said I looked more like a tuna than a seal. Of all the dumb names, that’s the one that stuck.”
I laughed at that, imagining the scene. “Did you make it, though? I mean, did you become a Navy SEAL?”
He nodded. “You bet.”
The food arrived fast, and I dug in. The lemony deliciousness helped restore all the calories I had burned during sex and then some.
“So,” I said, twirling my fork, “is this where you tell me your tragic backstory?”
“Being called Tuna isn’t tragic enough for you?”
“That is tragic, I’ll give you that.” I gestured at the scars on his muscular forearms. Was it bad that I wanted to lick them? I mean, I already licked his dick, so that’s nothing in comparison, right? “How did you get those?”
“That’s a life lesson. Just because you break a window to climb through doesn’t mean you should do it. At least not until after you’ve cleared the shards of glass from the frame.”
Oh, yeah, I could see myself doing something like that. “Good tip. I’ll keep it in mind for my next B&E.”
Before I could fire another question, Nick asked his own. “Do you eat out often or prefer to eat at home?”
“Not often, but only because my sister is a chef.” I rubbed the tiny tattoo on my wrist. Three stars for me and my sisters. “She’s a culinary mastermind.”
“You close?” he guessed.
“Yeah. We live together, actually. All three of us.”
“So, there’s a third.” He shoved salad leaves in his mouth and gestured for me to talk.
How did I end up talking not only about myself but also about my sisters? I didn’t normally share any details about my personal life.
“My oldest sister is basically my life coach, parole officer, and dietitian all rolled into one. Gets bossy if I don’t eat whatever healthy nonsense she thinks I should poison myself with.”
“Sounds like she loves you.”
I forced a smile. “Yeah.”
I might argue with Vera, but she sacrificed a lot for me and Ljuba. The three of us... We weren’t just sisters by blood. We were forged in the fires of hell together.
The pie was unfortunately almost gone, but I didn’t want this dinner to end. I almost regretted not ordering a large meal that would’ve taken me longer to eat. Nick, of course, ate with the speed of light.
Seriously, what was wrong with me tonight? Why did I suddenly want to spend more time with Nick? Maybe it was sex. He was pretty good in bed, and he was still flashing me his forearms, so my libido kept asking for more. That’s it. Nothing but my horny mind wanting to go for seconds.
Nick signaled for the check, never breaking eye contact—even when the waitress dropped the bill and shuffled away.
I swallowed the last of my coffee and asked, “Are you ready to go?”
He stood, left a few twenties on the table, and offered me his hand that I took without a second thought. Great. We were holding hands now. Next, he’d ask me if I wanted to go steady. I never should’ve agreed to have dinner with him.
Nick’s grip was careful, not crushing. And then he kept holding my hand as we stepped into the rain, and I squinted at the blur of city lights on wet pavement.
“You want me to walk you home?” he asked. “Or we can go back to the hotel.”
I should’ve turned down both offers. Already, I’d spent too much time with him, allowing myself to feel too much.
“Let’s go back to the hotel,” I said, knowing damn well that I wouldn’t stay the night. But I could stay in this comfortable place for a little longer — a place where I felt like a normal human being and not a broken doll.