He offered his hand, and I met it with mine. His grip was perfect—warm and strong and just long enough.
“So I hear you’ve had some back luck.” His voice was deep and a little gravelly. It did something to me. Something that made it difficult to look him in the eye.
I forgot my entire English.
Ellen came to my rescue. “He can tell you the whole story later—poor thing has to be exhausted by now. But tomorrow we’re going to fix everything. All he needs tonight is a place to stay.”
“No problem,” Derek said. I liked the way he stood, with his feet wide apart and his arms crossed over his chest. He looked strong and confident. The kind of guy who made no apologies for himself. Who took initiative and got things done. I liked it so much I forgot to argue that he didn’t have to take me in for the night.
Ellen punched him on the shoulder. “You’re the best, brother. Biggest sweetheart ever.”
“Biggest pushover ever,” he grumbled.
“That too. Now be nice to him,” she said, shaking one finger at her brother. She turned to me. “Maxim, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry about a thing. Get some rest.” She gave me a quick hug, and when she let me go, I finally found my voice.
“Thank you so much, both of you. I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“No bother,” he said, and he seemed to mean it. “Ready to go?”
I nodded, grabbing my notebook with the picture of Liliya in it off the bar, then I followed him through the crowd and out the door. I didn’t know if it was the jet lag or the theft or the alcohol on an empty stomach or the surprise gut punch of being attracted to Ellen’s older brother, but something had me feeling a little off balance.
Come on, Maxim. Pull yourself together.
At the end of the block, we stopped at an intersection, waiting for a green light so we could cross the street. I took a few deep breaths, hoping the cool night air might clear my head a little.
“So.” Derek glanced at me. “You’re a long way from home.”
“Yes,” I answered. It seemed like he was waiting for me to go on, but my tongue felt tied in knots. The right words weren’t coming to me.
The light changed and we crossed the street, walking side by side now. “I’m parked in the structure. Third floor.”
I followed him up two flights of stairs and over to a shiny black Range Rover. Even his car is beautiful. He unlocked the doors and I climbed into the passenger seat. The inside was as spotless as the outside. I wanted to compliment him on it, but all I could do was stare at his hands as he buckled his seatbelt.
Then my stomach growled—one long, loud, ferocious groan.
Our eyes met, and Derek’s expression was amused. “Are you hungry?”
“Uh. Yes.” I laughed uneasily.
“When was the last time you ate?”
I had to think about it. “On the plane. The first one.”
He nodded and started the car. “No wonder. Let’s get you some food.”
“You don’t have to worry about it.” He was already putting me up for the night. I didn’t want him to have to feed me, too. “I’m fine.”
“That sounded like a fucking German Shepherd in your stomach, Maxim. You need food. Don’t argue.”
I liked the way he said my name—it put me at ease. And besides, my mother had taught me it was rude and offensive to turn down offers of food and drinks. “Okay. Thanks.”
We circled down to street level and exited the garage. As we drove through downtown, I momentarily forgot my hunger and stared out the window like a mesmerized child. We passed one old movie theater after another, and I craned my neck to keep looking at the signs. “This street is incredible. What is this?”
“It’s the old Broadway Theater District,” said Derek. “It does have some really cool architecture from the twenties, although not all of these buildings are theaters anymore.”
“It looks exactly like what I pictured when I imagined California as a kid.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. My mother is obsessed with Hollywood musicals, so my sister and I grew up watching them.”
“You have a sister too, huh?”
“Yes, Liliya. She’s eight.” Since we were stopped at a light, I pulled the photo of her from my book and held it so Derek could see.
“She’s much cuter than my sister,” he said. “And probably much less annoying.”
I laughed. “I don’t know. I think your sister is pretty nice.”
He shook his head, accelerating again. “She’s nice, I’ll give her that. She’s just a little crazy.”
About twenty minutes later, he turned into a driveway next to a two-story brick house with a porch light on over a white front door. It was very nice, but it wasn’t the kind of house I’d pictured him in. Somehow I’d imagined something more modern and masculine for Derek—a condo with lots of glass and metal and sharp edges or something, rather than something traditional.
That’s ridiculous. You don’t know him at all.
He parked in the garage at the back of the yard, and I followed him to the back door. He opened it and stepped aside, as if to let me go first. I hesitated. It didn’t seem right to step inside someone's house before him, especially since I was an unexpected guest. I looked at Derek, and there was an awkward moment where neither of us knew what to do.
“Okay, then.” He walked in first and turned on the light, and I entered behind him.
The first thing I noticed when I entered Derek’s house was how good it smelled—fresh and clean, a little woodsy. I inhaled deeply as he moved around me to shut the door. “What’s that smell?” I asked. “It’s amazing.”
He looked confused for a moment and then he sniffed. “I don’t smell anything.” After setting his keys on a shelf, he removed his shoes and lined them up neatly against the wall next to a few other pairs. I left mine along the wall too and followed him into the kitchen.
He turned on the lights and gestured toward a round wooden table, which was surrounded by four chairs. “Take a seat. Let me just get some lights on and then I’ll get you something to eat.”
“You really don’t have to.”
He pinned me with a stare. “I know.”
My insides tightened. Is this what Ellen had meant by gruff? I kind of liked it—the intimidating look in his eye, the no-bullshit tone, the way he said how things were going to be and wouldn’t listen to arguments. It was sexy as hell.
Derek disappeared through an archway, and a light came on in the next room. I looked around, taking it all in. From the polished wood floor to the dark-stained cupboards, to the light stone counters to the glass backsplash tiles in different shades of green, the room looked like something from a magazine. And it was so clean! Everything shined—the stainless appliances, the marble counters, even the green apples in a bowl on the table. Were they even real? I was leaning over inspecting them when Derek returned to the kitchen.
“You’re probably hungry enough to eat plastic, but don’t eat that fruit.”