All the Lies We Tell (Quarry Road #1)(82)

She’d been cleaning in the kitchen, her wireless speaker transmitting music from her computer. As she put her arms around his neck, a slow song came on: a new download and one of her current favorites she sometimes kept on REPEAT. They eased into a slowly circling dance. Nikolai stepped deliberately on one of her slipper-clad feet, but not hard enough to hurt. Laughing, Alicia kicked his shin lightly.

Nikolai pulled her even closer, tucking her face against his shoulder. One hand smoothed over her hair, tugging it gently from the loose tie. Freed, it tumbled over her shoulders and down her back, and he ran his hand over the tangles to rest it finally at the base of her spine.

“You smell good,” Alicia said against his skin.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Like curry and beer and snow,” she continued as she breathed him in.

Nikolai laughed into her hair. “Nobody’s ever told me smelling like curry and beer was something good.”

“It’s just you,” she told him. “Your skin. You always smell good to me.”

Nikolai kissed her again. His hands moved over her, squeezing her ass before moving up to settle on her hips to squeeze her there, too. When he moved up farther to cup her breasts, though, Alicia pulled away.

“Food first. What kind of girl do you think I am, anyway?” she said with an arched brow. “Don’t answer that.”

Nikolai grabbed some plates and silverware while Alicia set out the food. He’d brought her favorite—lamb rogan josh with basmati rice. She paused as she opened the carton.

“Something wrong?” Nikolai slid a plate in front of her.

Alicia shook her head. “No. It’s nice, that’s all. That you remembered what I like best.”

“Well . . . it’s not that hard to remember.” Nikolai’s grin faded at her expression. “Right? I mean . . . not when you pay attention.”

It was no big deal, she told herself as she kissed him. It was just takeout food. It didn’t mean anything.

Except it did, she thought, watching him serve the food. It mattered that he’d taken the time to pick up the food and bring it to her, that it was her favorite. That he was choosing to be here with her, here and now, instead of anywhere else in the world that he could’ve been. She loved him for all of that.

She loved him.

“Alicia? You okay?” Nikolai reached to brush the hair off her forehead. His fingers stroked down her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She cupped his hand to her face for a second. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just hungry.”

He gave her an odd look but didn’t pursue it.

Alicia dug into the food on her plate, although now her stomach was doing rolls and tumbles worthy of a circus act. So were her thoughts. How had this happened? And when?

Watching Nikolai laugh as he told her a story about one of the repair jobs he was doing for Galina, she knew the answer to those questions; they became clear and sharp as diamonds. Not how. Not when.

But always.

“Nikolai . . . ,” she began, but stopped herself.

He put down his bottle of beer and wiped his mouth with the napkin. He gave her a curious, wary look. “Yeah?”

The sound of the front door opening turned both of them toward it. It could only be one person, of course. Nobody else would simply come inside her house without knocking first.

“Hey,” Ilya said, then stopped at the sight of his brother. “Wow. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s just dinner,” Nikolai said evenly. “What’s up, man?”

Ilya held up the packet of papers and looked at Alicia. “Maybe I should be asking you that. Both of you.”

“We’re eating dinner,” Alicia said tightly. “And we can talk about that stuff in your hand tomorrow, at work.”

“I want to talk about it now.” Ilya slapped the papers onto the table and grabbed at one of the takeout cartons. “Great, I’m starving.”

Alicia leaned to snag the carton from him and set it out of his reach. Ilya raised both brows. His smile did not reach his eyes.

“What, am I interrupting something? Is this like . . . a date or something?” He looked from his brother and back to her. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” Nikolai said. “I was out getting some stuff at the hardware store. Figured I’d pick up some takeout. I brought it over to Alicia’s house because I know she likes Indian food. That’s all. You don’t need to get bent about it.”

“No, I guess not,” Ilya answered with a short bark of a laugh. “I mean, except that she’s my wife. And you’re my brother.”

“I’m your ex-wife, Ilya.”

He turned to her. “And he’s still my brother.”

“You didn’t seem to think that sort of thing was a very big deal,” Alicia bit out, “when you started f*cking me after you’d been f*cking my sister.”

Ilya’s fists clenched, resting on the table. Nikolai started to speak, but Ilya’s glance shut him up. Ilya fixed her with an unwavering, impassive look. She took a long pull on the beer to wash the taste of bitterness off her tongue, but she didn’t look away from Ilya’s gaze.

Ilya stood. “The difference is at least your sister was dead before I took up with you.”