Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(33)

He smirks, as if that’s the answer he was hoping for from me. “I will be late. Remember the list.”

Five minutes later, Viktor already gone, the interior door at the back of the garage opens and Alexandria steps out. She’s still dressed the same, though she’s traded her heels for slippers and her white blouse is untucked and hanging out. All the flashy jewelry has been stripped off her body. “Are you hungry?” She holds up a plate and two bottles of beer.

My stomach grumbles at the sight. The last thing I stuffed into my mouth was a Hot Pocket at breakfast. “Starving, actually.” I hold up my filthy hands.

She smiles and points to the door she just came out of. “Inside and to the left.”

I follow her instructions into a mudroom that is separated from the rest of the house by a heavy door on the opposite end and is the size of Boone’s and my living room. When I return to the garage with clean hands, Alexandria has set up a blue folding chair next to the table and cleared some space for my dinner. She’s standing in front of the engine, her arms folded across her chest, a beer in one hand. “So Viktor hired you to fix this?”

I stroll over to the plate. “Yup. Last night, standing in front of the urinal.” Stabbing a piece of stew meat, I shove it into my mouth. “Wow,” I mumble around a mouthful. “Did you make this?”

“One of my duties as Viktor’s wife.” There’s no missing the bitterness.

“Viktor’s lucky to have a wife who cooks like this.” I wonder how often she hears that. Because all I’ve heard is ridicule. Sure, he kissed her. Once.

But so have I.

I feel her eyes on me as I shovel in hunks of meat and potato like a man starved. Growing up with a surgeon and a police officer for parents, I didn’t get a lot of home-cooked meals, and the few I did weren’t memorable. My mom may be a genius in the operating room, but in the kitchen she’s limited to a box of spaghetti and a jar of pasta sauce.

Before I can place the plate on the table, she’s diving for it. “Let me get that.”

“Thanks.” I try her name out on my tongue. “Alexandria.”

“It’s Alex. Call me Alex.” She pushes a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “When it’s just us.”

“But not when it’s not?”

“Viktor prefers Alexandria.”

Of course.

She looks down at the plate in her hands. “Did you really enjoy that?”

“Yeah, it was fantastic. Why?”

“Because you left half of it.”

“No I didn’t. I ate the entire—” Oh . . . I grin sheepishly. I’ve been picking vegetables out of my food for so long, it’s second nature now. “I ate all the good stuff,” I offer, hoping she isn’t offended by the tidy pile of peas and carrots I left behind. God knows I’ve heard enough about starving children from my mother for the past twenty-four years.

She smiles. “So, not a big fan of vegetables. What about fruit?”

“Tomato sauce.”

“That’s not . . .” Her voice drifts off with a sigh, her eyes flickering with amusement. “You must have driven your mother nuts.”

“Maybe if she cooked more, I would have better eating habits.”

“You’re blaming your mother?”

“Exactly.” I suck back the rest of my beer and hand it to her. “Thank you. You don’t have to serve me, though.”

“I know.” She bites the inside of her mouth. “Viktor wouldn’t like me in here with you.”

“Aren’t you worried about being caught on camera?” And why is she telling me this at all?

“No. There aren’t any cameras in here. Or anywhere in the house. Viktor thinks that people can hack into them and watch us. There are cameras around the perimeter of the property, as well as an alarm system, though.”

“You probably shouldn’t tell people those sorts of things,” I warn. “You don’t know me.”

“You’re right. I don’t, but . . .” Those pretty eyes regard me for a long moment. “I feel like I do.”

I can’t keep my gaze from dropping to her mouth as I murmur, “I think I know what you mean.”

She stands across from me in front of the engine. “So . . . how long do you think it’ll take you to finish this car?”

“Not sure. Depends on how many distractions I have.” Like right now, I’d rather be looking at her than playing with this engine.

And I love nothing more than playing with engines.

Her beer bottle pauses at her lips. She clears her throat and begins to move away. “Well, I should probably get back to studying. I have another midterm next week.”

She misread my words. She thinks I’m trying to get her to leave. “Bring your books out here,” I suggest casually, testing the bolts on the manifold. They’re corroded. Not surprising.

“Yeah?” A hint of something in her voice pulls my attention up. Excitement, perhaps. Is it excitement about spending time with me or just a warm body in general? I wonder how often they have people over here. And how often Viktor is actually home with her. Something tells me she spends a lot of time alone.

“Yeah.” I scan the front of her shirt, the outline of her bra underneath just barely visible. “You may want to change out of anything nice, though. Things tend to get dirty out here.” That could be taken in an entirely different way. I don’t normally say shit like that, but she seems to bring it out in me.