Whiskey Sharp: Unraveled. Lauren Dane

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СКАЧАТЬ like a family with these guys.

      Whiskey Sharp felt like home now. As much as the house she shared with her sister. Whiskey Sharp had the added incentive of really gorgeous, incredibly well-dressed dudes who frequently brought her baked goods and caffeine in all its forms like they were warriors returned from the field bringing tribute.

      It didn’t suck to have her job.

      One of the aforementioned gorgeous dudes in particular caught her attention. Or. Well. Pretty much had dominated her attention since the first day two years before when she’d rolled in to Whiskey Sharp and charm-groveled herself into a job.

      Alexsei Petrov was hot-damn-absolutely-delicious.

      His shirtsleeves were folded up carefully over some seriously fantastic forearms as he slid a soft cloth over all the wood in the shop. Caressing it. Later, he’d use old-fashioned arm garters to keep his sleeves out of the way while he was with clients.

      A very well-trimmed beard that never ceased to make her a little tingly went perfectly with the well-trimmed hair the color of caramel. Glints of auburn and mahogany showed themselves if he was in the sunshine, or on those occasions she got her hands into it when she gave him a cut.

      Taciturn, though not nearly as bad as he’d been when she’d first met him. Still, he tended toward one-word answers, snarls, eyebrow raises and glares to get his communicating done. And she was beginning to believe he loved to poke at her with each one of those things.

      Over the last several months especially, it had felt a lot like foreplay.

      Which she was trying not to think about too much because if she did she’d have to tell herself not to flirt with him or let their chemistry get any better because she wanted to make really bad choices with him.

      A lot.

      He turned after placing the cloth back into a drawer and latched those chocolate-brown eyes of his on her. Held her there as he took her in.

      Intense. So much more intense than she ever really found attractive and yet there she was with her pink parts doing the forbidden dance anyway.

      Maybe swallowed and found her sass enough to get herself back under control. She was a badass, not some simpering newbie!

      “Good day to you, fine gentlemen.” She held a bag aloft. “I come bearing cookies and a loaf of black bread with salmon your aunt insists must be eaten immediately because it will never taste better than now.”

      “I’ve booked your three p.m. slot,” Alexsei told her as he passed, snatching the food. “You will eat before you cut my hair and give me a shave.”

      He didn’t even ask.

      He—along with pretty much his entire family—had a thing about feeding Rachel and Maybe both. It was their way of expressing, well, pretty much everything.

      Alexsei was also really bossy. And he expressed all his bossiness on what he considered taking care of the people he considered his.

      She’d become one of those people. As had her sister, by extension.

      Maybe grabbed her tea mug before heading over to the bar area. He saw her moving his way and rumbled his approval.

      Rumbled. Like a fucking bear and yet she really dug it. His accent did such crazy, really dirty things to her too. The whole package just drove her totally and utterly crazy.

      “My cousin Gregori brought it back from London.” He held a bright red tin of tea aloft a moment. “Just finished brewing.”

      He took her mug to pour for her, the muscles in his hands and forearms flexing as he did.

      Honestly, she should have felt bad for the super filthy things such a simple task made her feel, but she couldn’t. However, up until recently, he’d been in a two-year relationship. Add the fact that he was her boss and she’d been able to admire from a distance and keep him firmly in fantasy-fuck land.

      Until about eight months ago when he’d broken off with his fiancée. And for about six months after that he’d drowned himself in a steady diet of cow-eyed women who showed up around closing time to moon at him.

      He’d taken them home. Way more than Maybe would have preferred, which to be honest was not at all.

      Essentially, he’d fucked a lot of pretty women, went out with his friends and had, from what she could see, worked most of the need to party out of his system. And had, over the last two months or so, calmed that frenetic schedule considerably.

      Not wanting to think about him being with other women for another second, Maybe dropped two sugar cubes into her freshly poured tea and grabbed a few of the pyraniki. The little anise spice cookies were perfect with tea.

      “You should have the salmon too.” He tipped his chin toward the fish he’d already piled on a thick slice of bread.

      “I had some earlier with your aunt. She ambushed me with fish and bread, which I then shared with her, because hello manners. That sounds like a complaint, but truly, it’s an awesome way to start my workday. She’s a food ninja.”

      He smiled slightly.

      He’d decided about a year before that he liked the way she did his hair best and had announced that to her. It had meant no one else touched his head. Not that the other barbers weren’t relieved. He was a particular guy who liked to back seat drive everything, including his own haircuts and shaves.

      It never got to her. Instead she found herself charmed by it over and over. Like he was so outraged every single being in the universe didn’t bow to his whim.

      Adorable.

      She kept trying to talk him into some funky streaks but he’d only stared at her without speaking until she’d rolled her eyes.

      Gruff. But really, under that crusty exterior, there was a soft heart and a vein of compassion she’d seen over and over.

      One by one, the other barbers began to come in as the quiet had eased into a more laid-back sort of bustle. Clients filled the space in waves. She loved how the energy of the shop could change so much just from who was inside at any given moment. Bikers, bankers, artists, a few lawyers, lots of office workers and folks who wandered in from off the busy streets in Pioneer Square.

      They filled Whiskey Sharp with their own flair and flavor and it was truly one of the most fun parts of her job to be part of that daily ebb and flow.

      * * *

      VICKTOR ORLOV, IRENA’S SON, the guy who ran the bakery and one of what seemed like a dozen of Alexsei’s cousins, strolled in, placing a cup of coffee on her worktable on his way past.

      “Thanks, handsome.”

      “You’re welcome.” He hung up his coat and eased into Alexsei’s chair just across the way from hers.

      “Is this your way of asking a favor?” She gave him a grin as she held up the cup. “Not that it’ll stop me from drinking it or anything. I’m just curious.”

      “You don’t trust me?” Even when he frowned Vic was beautiful. “I’m СКАЧАТЬ