Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(22)
They find me.
And the veil drops for just a second, long enough to reveal a glimmer of surprise.
I smile at her and she dips her head. I have enough common sense to pull my attention away from her and move it to Rust before anyone notices the exchange. If they did and they asked me what it meant, I’d have no idea what to say because I don’t understand it myself yet. All I keep thinking is that she made a point of finding out my name.
“Good seeing you here again, Jesse. How’re the guys treating you?” Rust asks.
“They haven’t mistaken me for a nurse yet, so there’s that.”
That earns loud laughter from Rust as he slaps his nephew on the back. “Here, sit.” He gestures at the same chairs as last time. I get the impression that we need the invitation. Not just anyone walks up to this table.
I take my seat.
Viktor breaks free from his conversation to regard me with an even look. “Jesse. I missed you at the garage earlier, when I was picking up Alexandria. I was hoping we could talk.”
“Sorry. I was probably on break.” I wasn’t. I was lurking in the window, avoiding conversation with him while I could study her.
Viktor snorts and then mutters something in Russian before saying, “I should have bought this woman a farm truck, the way she drives.” Alexandria’s lips purse together but she says nothing. “Do you know how many women would love to have that car?”
“I didn’t ask for it, Viktor,” she answers in a low, cautious voice, her eyes on her hands in front of her. “I would have been happy with a farm truck.”
I’m somehow not surprised to see Viktor’s jaw tense. “You seem happy spending all of my money, too. Maybe I should stop giving you cash to spend?” Reaching out, he grabs her chin and forces her face up to meet his. “See how happy you are then.”
Well, that escalated quickly.
I glance around the table to see everyone busy with their own conversations. Are they truly oblivious to this? Or am I just too in tune?
Viktor lets go of her chin, the simmering storm in his eyes dissipating as fast as it came. He drifts back into his private conversation with the guy next to him as if nothing happened at all, leaving Alexandria to sit like a statue, doing her best to keep her eyes on the tall glass of water in front of her. I can’t help but suck back the vodka Boone and Rust keep pouring from the bottle in the middle of the table.
Finally, she slides out of the booth without a word to her husband, her eyes grazing me as she goes. I fight the urge to watch her glide toward the restroom. The urge to get up and chase after her is even stronger. But that would be too obvious. So, I pull my phone out and pretend to go through my messages, when I’m really just watching the clock. I decide six minutes and twelve seconds is long enough and then I slip away. I need to hit the can and grab a water anyway so I’m not an idiot at work tomorrow.
My timing couldn’t be more perfect. Alexandria is gliding down the long, narrow hall from the restrooms, her long red dress flowing around her legs, the material parting dangerously high up her thigh. I struggle not to stare as it spreads open with each step. Damn, Viktor’s a lucky son of a bitch.
Her eyes lock on me immediately and they don’t let go as we close the distance between us.
And then I realize that she’s not going to stop.
I react without thinking, reaching out to slip my hand around the far side of her waist. “Hey.” I’ve never been shy, but I’m usually smarter than this. Must be the alcohol.
“Jesse.” My name sounds breathless on her lips. I like it. Her eyes dart behind me for a split second before returning to mine, her hand reaching up to gently retrieve my hand from her body. She’s radiating that same nervousness that poured off her the last time I was here, when she was late and Viktor was pissed. It’s so palpable, it’s making me nervous.
“Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I just . . .” Her brow furrows as something that looks a lot like recognition swirls behind those beautiful irises.
I asked her that exact same question the flat-tire night. “What?”
She gives her head a small shake. “Nothing, I just . . . nothing.” Her eyes drop to my mouth before stealing another glance behind me. “I have to go.” I watch her bare, delicate back as she walks away, her heels clicking fast against the wood, that heavy dose of perfume clinging to my nose. It’s starting to grow on me.
I pick the farthest urinal in the men’s room, closing my eyes and letting my head tip back as I consider my options. Should I tell her I’m the guy who saved her that night on the side of the road? Would she want to know? Especially given the way her husband treats her. Obviously the guy’s a douche. But she married him. She is married to him. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, coming here. Roadside kiss or not, nothing is going to happen.
The door squeaks open. A moment later I sense someone take the urinal next to me and I sigh. “Five other spots available. Just saying.” Normally, any conversation at the urinal is not cool by me, even to cuss someone out. But I’m in a bad mood.
“Then I would have to yell to talk to you.”
I recognize that slight Russian accent and the smooth voice.
“So, about my business proposition. What do you know about Aston Martin DB5s?”
Something tells me blowing off Viktor Petrova right now would be a bad idea. Even if that means I have to talk over the sound of piss hitting porcelain. “They’re hard to fix.”