DEREK

I kept my eyes on my phone until I knew he was out of my view.

Then I exhaled.

This wouldn’t be easy, having him around for two weeks. And yet…it would be completely easy. Enjoyable, even. It was the craziest thing—I felt comfortable with Maxim in a lot of ways. He was easy to talk to, he made me laugh, he was interesting and fun and different. I liked hearing about his life in Russia, too. It gave me some insight into why he was the way he was.

Where it got uncomfortable was when my body reacted to him. A hitch in my breath. A tightening in my chest. Heat in my blood. Provocation of that thing in me that existed only to want and didn’t care about the consequences.

It was maddening that I couldn’t feel those things for someone like Carolyn, who was perfect for me in every other way. Why should it be Maxim who ignited that fire in me, rather than her? What was it about him that wouldn’t let me out of its grasp? Why was I being punished this way?

As if being pulled by magnetic force, I walked over to the chair where he’d hung the sweatshirt I’d loaned him. Glancing out the sliding glass door to the patio, I saw him standing by the rosebushes at the side of the yard, the sun glinting off the gold in his hair. I picked up the sweatshirt and brought it to my face.

It was still warm from his body.

I inhaled slowly. Soap. Fabric softener. But there was something else there, too. At the deep end of my breath was the heady, masculine scent of his skin, and I held it captive in my lungs, closed my eyes.

You inside me.

My mind feasted on the scent. I felt my lips on his skin, my hands on his back, my chest against his. He was warm and strong and hard and—

Two quick knocks on the glass door made me jump, my eyes flying open to find Maxim standing there on the patio, his head turned, so he was looking away from me. I immediately dropped the sweatshirt onto the chair and slid the door open.

“Hey.”

He looked at me, his face impassive. “Hey. Do you have some gloves?”

“Uh, yeah.” My face was probably fifty fucking shades of red. But he hadn’t seen anything, right? “Be right out.”

I put my shoes on again and went out to the garage, where I rummaged around on my workbench shelves. Where the hell were those gloves? I knew where everything was in this garage, so why the fuck couldn’t I find them? My mind was cloudy with confusion and shame. Had he seen what I was doing? He couldn’t have. He wasn’t even looking at me when he knocked. And even if he had, he knew how I was about neatness. He probably thought I was going to hang the sweatshirt up somewhere, or put it in the guest room.

My heart rate slowed, and I remembered where the gloves were. I pulled them off the shelf and slipped them on for a second, flexing and fisting my hands.

“Find some?” Maxim called from outside.

“Yeah.” Quickly I tugged them off and headed into the sunshine, squinting at the light. I’d forgotten to put my sunglasses back on. “Here you go.”

I handed them to him and watched him put them on, sliding his fingers into the spaces mine had occupied a moment before.

It was almost like touching him.

* * *

“Hey.” I switched my phone to my left hand and reached for a couple lemons with my right.

“Hey, big brother. How’d it go today with our Russian orphan? Thanks again for doing that.”

“No problem. It was, uh, interesting.” I grabbed a few limes too, in case anyone wanted them for cocktails.

“Did you drop him off?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yes and no?”

I frowned at the bunches of herbs, scanning the selection for thyme. “I took him to the apartment he was supposed to live in, but I couldn’t leave him there.”

“Why not?”

“It was disgusting.”

Ellen laughed. “Like what, the toilet seat was up? There were damp towels on the floor? Cookie crumbs on the counter?”

“No, like roach-infested, filthy dirty, stained-mattress, you-couldn’t-pay-me-a-million-dollars-to-stay-one-night-there disgusting.” A woman perusing vegetables to my right gave me a horrified look and moved away.

My sister gasped. “Seriously? So he wouldn’t stay?”

“No, he was fine with it. I mean, he wasn’t, of course he wasn’t, but he said he’d be okay and it was what he could afford and it was only temporary.”

“Wait, I thought he was staying with a friend, the one that didn’t show up last night.”

“No. That guy was just going to give him a ride to the apartment. But his car broke down in the mountains or something.”

She laughed. “Thanks for nothing.”

“Exactly. Anyway, I couldn’t leave him. It was that bad.”

“Wow. So what did you do with him?”

“What could I do with him? His mom is wiring his savings, but it won’t be here until Monday. So I brought him home with me.”

“Of course you did.” She giggled. “You big softie.”

I grimaced, scouring the tiers of root vegetables. Where the fuck was the fennel? “I’m not a softie. It’s only temporary, and I’m telling you, nobody could have left a friend in that place.”

“You guys are friends now? That’s so cute.”

“We’re not friends exactly, I just—I don’t know what we are.” Spying a bag of fennel, I grabbed it and tossed it into my cart. “But I said I’d help him.”

“Help him with what?”

“With everything, Ellen. He’s the nicest guy in the world, but he moved here, like, on a whim and really didn’t plan for it.”

“He moved here? I thought he was just visiting.”

“He wants to stay.” I switched my phone to my right ear and pushed my cart toward crates of potatoes and onions in the middle of the produce section. “He wants to be a screenwriter.”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“Right. So he’s got about two thousand dollars saved up, with which he needs to buy food, shelter, a laptop, and screenwriting classes for the foreseeable future.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

“That’s what I told him.” I tossed a few onions and a big bag of Russet potatoes into my cart. “I said he could stay for two weeks, during which I’m going to help him make a budget and find somewhere to move that he can afford once he gets a job.”

“A job?”

“That’s where you come in. Can you hire him?”

“I’d be glad to. Is it legal?”

I frowned. “Not really. You’d have to pay him in cash. Keep it all under the table.”

“Okay.” Ellen didn’t sound bothered in the least. “I’m not working tonight, but I can bring him in tomorrow.”

“Great.” Some of the tension eased from my upper back. “He says he’s got some experience.”

“Sounds good. Where is he now?”

“He’s back at the house doing some yard work for me.”

“You put him to work already?” She snorted. “That’s so you.”

“Ha ha. He offered, thank you very much. He said he had experience with gardening too, although he could be back there butchering my rose bushes for all I know.”

“He’s a real jack-of-all-trades, huh?”

“Apparently.”

“Too bad he’s so unattractive.”

His handsome face popped into my mind, and I forced it out. “Unattractive?”

“It was a joke, Derek! I was kidding. For God’s sake, the guy looks like a Calvin Klein underwear billboard come to life.”

“I guess.” Don’t think about him in his underwear. Don’t think about him in his underwear. Don’t think about him in his underwear.

“You guess? I’m sorry, but you’d have to be dead not to find him attractive. And not even recently dead. Like a hundred years dead.” She sighed. “Too bad he’s gay.”

I froze, my entire body on edge. “What?”

“He’s gay. One of my servers overheard him telling some girl at the bar that last night.” She laughed. “From the sound of it, she was pretty disappointed. Poor girl.”

“Oh my God.” The store was spinning.

“What difference does it make? Are you going to be all Dad about this?”

“No! It makes no difference at all. I just didn’t realize.” My voice sounded strange to me.

“Good. You scared me for a second. I can only take one narrow-minded relative. Anyway, I better go. I still have a shit ton of inventory to do.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, what are you guys doing tonight? I’m off. Want to see a movie or something?”

“Uh, no. I mean, I can’t. Maybe Maxim would like to.” His name felt different on my lips.

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m having friends over for dinner.”

“Whatcha making?”

“Roasted chicken and vegetables.” Which I was supposed to be shopping for, so I could get the fuck home and make it, but I was still anchored to my spot by the potatoes.

“Yum! Got room for one more?”

“Sure,” I said absentmindedly.

“Great! What time should I come over?”

“Uh, seven is good.”

“Perfect. Gives me time to go home and clean up. Who else is coming?”

I forced myself to start walking again, focus on the task at hand. Chicken. I need a chicken. “Um, Gage and Lanie. Carolyn.”

“Ooh, is that the girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just—someone I’m seeing.”

“Well, whatever. You’ve mentioned her, and I’ve been hoping to meet her. I’ll see you tonight!”

“Okay. Bye.” I ended the call and brought up my grocery list so I could finish shopping, but I found myself having to look at it again and again, my mind was so preoccupied with what Ellen had told me.

Maxim was gay?

If I’d made any peace at all with his presence in my house for the next two weeks, it was all undone by that news.

Was it true? Did it even matter?

Hell yes it did. My attraction to him suddenly felt a thousand times more dangerous, now that I knew it was possible it could be reciprocated.

And was it? Was Maxim attracted to me? I replayed last night and today in my head, looking for a telltale sign—a word, a touch, a look—something that would give him away, but I came up with nothing. Maybe it was because he felt nothing. Maybe it was because he was Russian and had that detached face mastered. Or maybe it was because I’d been so obsessed with my own feelings, constantly focused inward on what he did to me, that I could find no evidence I’d captured his attention like he’d captured mine.

For a split second, I was disappointed.

What the hell, asshole? That’s a good thing. The last thing you need is for him to be interested in you. You don’t want it. You can’t want it. It’s wrong. Nothing is going to happen.

I took a few deep breaths and repeated the words in my head.

Nothing is going to happen.