The rest of the day was spent catching up, mostly between Lauren and Susan since Ross was busy manning the grill and he “needed Volkov around to help.” She had to bite her lip to stop from laughing at the way Mishca looked standing next to Ross, wearing an apron with a man’s bare chest on the front. It really was amazing the things he would do for her just because he loved her.

Lauren shared everything she could about her life with Mishca, making sure not to mention where they had stopped before arriving. By the time she had finished and Susan had told her of everything—though not nearly as much as Lauren—she and Ross had been up to for the past few months, it was already midday.

With not much else to do, Lauren talked Mishca into going into town with her. She even let him drive since she knew he preferred it. As they ventured to the town center, she remembered why she loathed it there.

That was the thing about small towns, you either left and never came back—or only to come back and visit if you still cared about your family—or you stayed stuck there until you died, reflecting on the “good ole days.” Of course, Lauren’s opinion might have varied if there had been something else to occupy everyone’s time besides her father’s murder, but there wasn’t much luck there.

But she wasn’t the same person as when she’d lived here before.

She and Mishca were out in the town, picking up a few things from the local shops. Susan had asked her to pick up a few things from the grocery store, and Lauren did that last. She was in the produce section, grabbing a few pomegranates when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat somewhere to her right.

If that was how it was going to start off, Lauren knew it wasn’t going to end well. Standing there with a wide smile of pearly white teeth was Amanda Ward and—Lauren actually cringed—Lauren’s high school crush, Benjamin Sutter. He had been one of the braver souls, ignoring Ross’ surliness, or at least that was what Lauren had thought at the time.

She hadn’t thought of him since that first unfortunate day between them, the day she learned she had just been a dare. She had never thought that kind of stuff happened in real life, always thinking that it was a plot for a movie, but she learned quickly enough that it did happen, at least to her.

Apparently, there had been an initiation ritual for the freshman jocks by the upperclassmen. Lauren had never really understood who was supposed to be more humiliated, her or Benjamin, but considering she’d actually had a crush on him since middle school—which was probably noticeable—she thought it was her.

“Funny running into you here,” Amanda said looking back at Benjamin as though waiting for him to agree. He just looked mildly uncomfortable. “I saw your mom and Detective Ross the other day. They seem to be doing well.”

The cordial smile on Lauren’s face was soon turning brittle, already knowing where this conversation was going just from that one sentence. “They are.”

“It’s a shame what happened to your dad.”

The way she referred to it, she almost made it sound like his death had been an accident. Seventeen years was a long time, and she had often heard something similar to what Amanda said over that length of time, but in the place she was in now, she was tired of hearing that phrase.

“Yeah.” What exactly was she expected to say to that?

Amanda was about to say something more, but her mouth snapped shut as her eyes drifted past her. Lauren didn’t have to guess that it was Mishca coming up behind her, especially with the way Amanda seemed to stop breathing.

Mishca’s hand went from the small of her back, sliding beneath the fall of her hair, his thumb rubbing circles over the nape of her neck. That familiar sense of calmness filled her at his touch.

Lauren didn’t have to introduce her; Amanda did it all on her own. Her hand shot out fast, aimed directly at Mishca.

“Hi, I’m Amanda, a friend of Lauren’s from high school”—friend was definitely a stretch—“and you are?”

“Mishca Volkov, her husband.”

He accepted her hand, letting it go a second later, gaze already gone to Benjamin who now seemed confused about Mishca’s presence. It would have been offensive, the way they kind of gawked at Mishca as though he was an abnormality, but Lauren remembered what she was like in high school and she had to admit that even she had never expected to meet someone like him.

“Oh,” Amanda said gesturing back to Benjamin as though she had forgotten his presence. Her eyes were still locked on Mishca. “This is my boyfriend, Benjamin.”

Mishca didn’t speak to him, just nodded.

“You know, a few people from our class are getting together tonight, a sort of anniversary dinner. We would just love it if you came and your husband too, of course.”

With the way she was looking, it would have been just fine if Mishca went alone.

“Vy khotite poyti v eto?—You want to go to this?” Mishca asked, glancing down at her.

If there was something to be thankful for, it was the fact that she had a better understanding of Russian.

Though she smiled at him, she said, “Nyet.”

He laughed at that hard “no.” “Mozhet byt’ veselo, da?—Could be fun, yes?”

Amanda cleared her throat delicately, reminding them they still had company.

“Sure,” Lauren said. “What time?”

“Around eight over at the Grille. You remember the place, don’t you?”

“Yeah, we’ll see you there.”

* * *

Back when Lauren was in high school, the Grille was a wildly popular restaurant that was considered one step above Applebee’s, and though there was a bit of wear and tear to the interior, it was still a pretty upscale place. It had a rather dark interior, the bar taking up nearly the entire middle of the room. Dim lights were on tracks along the ceiling, the staff wore all black, and dressed considerably better than what was normally seen at a restaurant.

“I like this dress on you,” Mishca said as they walked toward the back. “New?”

Trying not to smile, she shrugged. “Maybe.”

Lauren could tell upon walking in that the party seated at the lengthy table in the back of the restaurant had been waiting for a while, and therefore, had made her and Mishca the topic of conversation.

Voices quieted as they approached. But Lauren didn’t let that bother her. It wouldn’t be the first time she agreed to dinner with people who she didn’t want to be around.

Amanda got to her feet, smoothing the sides of her skirt. “We’re so glad you could make it.”

She went around the table, introducing everyone one by one to Mishca—though Lauren could have done it since she remembered most of their names—and by the time the waiter came back around to get their drink orders, Lauren was more than ready to go.

It wasn’t all so bad, not when Jeremy threw in a couple of stories that weren’t entirely embarrassing. Maybe it was just Lauren, but she didn’t realize just how much she had been noticed in high school. She thought she had been invisible, everyone always pitying her for what happened, but it was clear that what she thought back then wasn’t necessarily the case.

Dinner went by relatively quickly, and before long, Lauren had let her guard down, finally allowing herself to be happy that she had agreed to show up…at least for a while.

“Does he know?” Miranda, a girl that Lauren remembered from the dance team, leaned over to whisper after Mishca had excused himself. She was acting as though what she was saying was some big conspiracy that needed to be kept quiet.

Playing along, Lauren widened her eyes. “Know what?”

“About your dad…”

And it was all going so well. “Yes, he knows all about it.” A lot more than anyone else, but she didn’t say that aloud. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She really wasn’t in the mood to sit there and continue this conversation. Heading in the direction of the restrooms, she was more than happy to linger there until Mishca exited. She really didn’t understand the need for the constant reminder of what happened in the past. Realistically, she didn’t know anyone that cared enough to continue talking about it.

Mishca came out, his brows drawing together as he looked her over. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you ready to go?”

His expression was unreadable, but he did grab hold of her hand, drawing her into the restroom at his back, flipping the lock as he followed.

“Talk to me.”

“It wasn’t so bad, it’s just…”

She trailed off when he lifted her, setting her on the edge of the sink, his hands slowly slipping beneath the hem of her dress, pulling her panties down her legs and stuffing them into his pocket.

“Keep talking.”

“I think they were more interested in you than…”

Trailing off again, she didn’t have to ask where this was heading, not when he nudged her legs apart, his hand slipping between them. “Tell me, that boy, Benjamin, why was he watching you all night?”

The moment he’d put her up on that sink, she’d felt the heat pooling deep in her belly, and from the way he hissed something in Russian as he drew slow circles along her thigh, repeating the same motion in a spot where she wanted him more, he knew she was ready for him.

When he did this, she reached for his belt, pulling it free as she went for the button of his pants next and unzipped them. He moved her hands away, shaking his head to prevent her from repeating the gesture. Clearly, he wanted to be in control.

“Answer me, Lauren.”

“I had a thing for him once,” she whispered, her voice catching at the end as he slowly, but steadily, pressed a single finger inside of her, sliding it in and out before adding another.

Her legs were trembling on either side of his hips, but he didn’t seem to notice as he slowly took her higher, his eyes watching her expression the entire time. Despite his silent demand, she reached for his pants again, slipping her hand inside to wrap around him, pulling him free. Normally he made her beg, and she didn’t mind this—she rather enjoyed it—but he seemed to want this as badly as she did, so he didn’t protest.

“Once?” he asked, clearly not ready to let it go.

She forgot how much she enjoyed his jealous side. “I married you.”

He had the skirt of her dress shoved up in the next minute, her legs around his waist as he pressed closer, slowly sliding between her folds, wetting himself liberally before entering her in one solid thrust. As a moan slipped past her lips, he kissed her hard, easing out of her before thrusting home, the arm he had around her waist tightening reflexively.

It didn’t matter that they had been married for months, nor did it matter that she and Mishca had had sex plenty of times over the few years that she had known him; nothing could describe the way she felt when Mishca was inside of her. He knew her, inside and out, and knew exactly what she liked, even when she didn’t know herself.

He kept her mouth covered with his before he whispered soft words in her ears, telling her how beautiful he thought she was, how he loved the way her pussy gripped him, and more importantly—and a fact that made her wetter for him—how no one else could make him lose control as she could.

“More.” The plea came from her when he finally released her mouth.

A growl vibrated in his chest as he gave her exactly what she wanted.