Page 8 of Finding Alexei
“Ah. It makes sense now.” I pop another pretzel in my mouth, chewing slowly.
“What does?” he asks, lifting one dark brow curiously.
“That comment about getting a blow job whenever you want.”
He shakes his head, his smirk fading. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. It was very out of line for me.”
I shrug. “What? I’m sure it’s true. Women generally line up and drop to their knees for athletes, right? Like they’re some special, secret aphrodisiac.”
“But not you?” he asks, seeming amused by me.
I wrinkle my nose. “Sorry, no. Sports don’t really do it for me. I’m more impressed you knew what a Boppy pillow is for.”
Alexei chuckles, and I like the sound of it immediately. It’s deep and rich, and uninhibited.
When I finish eating and look at Ella again, resting between us, her little eyelids have fallen closed. She’s sound asleep.
“Can I ask whose baby this is?” he asks.
At first, I wondered if he might be skeptical, might think that she’s mine. But given the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing with her, I think he knows I’m telling the truth. “My ex-roommate, Andi. She left her with me a couple of days ago. I’ve been trying to call her nonstop since, but her cell phone is turned off. I have no idea when she’s coming back.”
He nods, looking thoughtful. “Come on. Let’s get you guys to bed.”
I nod and rise to my feet, lifting Ella carefully so as not to wake her. Alexei carries the platter into the kitchen, wraps it in plastic, and sets it inside his refrigerator.
He leads us into a bedroom down the hall. There’s a queen-size bed dressed in a fluffy white down comforter, and a Pack ’n Play set up in the corner.
Oh my God. The man comes complete with a Pack ’n Play. What planet am I living on?
“Thought this bedroom would be best for you. When I babysit my sister’s littlest one, I put her down for a nap in here. Everything’s clean, though. My housekeeper was just here and laundered all the bedding.”
It’s more than I could have hoped for. It’s more than I have for Ella at my place.
“Thank you. This is perfect,” I murmur, tears threatening to spill again.
Alexei is standing so close that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. I can feel his eyes on me, piercing me, as I bend over and carefully place Ella inside her bed for the night.
“If you need anything, my door’s at the end of the hall. I’ll keep it open. Just holler, okay?”
I nod, suddenly unable to form words at how sweet and kind this complete stranger has been to me tonight.
Alexei takes one last look at Ella before turning to face me. “Good night.”
I watch the way his muscles bunch and move underneath his fitted long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans.
Everything about the past couple hours has been surreal. Too good to be true. I can’t think about it without my heart clenching and belly tingling with nerves.
Once I turn out the light and climb into bed, I realize how exhausted I am. I worked a double shift today, and all the muscles in my body are limp and tired. I relax into the feather pillows and close my eyes.
Lying alone in this room with the soft sounds of Ella breathing, I realize I have no idea what I’m doing, and no idea what I’ll do tomorrow.
I have a lot to worry about—paying my rent and my heating bill, and taking care of Ella while trying to track down Andi. But right now, in this moment, I feel comforted and content, all thanks to a nice man who cared enough to help tonight.
As I look over toward the Pack ’n Play, though, I know that Ella is warm and fed. And that’s enough to give me pause, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to say the same thing in a couple of days.Chapter ThreeAlexeiI wake to the unfamiliar sounds of someone cooking in my kitchen—the sizzle of bacon in a pan, dishes clinking together. It’s an unusual but not unwelcome sound. I’ve lived alone for the past eight years, ever since I graduated from college and went pro. Smiling, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand.
The morning erection tenting my boxers will need to be dealt with, but now isn’t the time. Instead, I head into the bathroom and brush my teeth while I wait for it to deflate. Then I throw on some athletic shorts and a white T-shirt, and make my way into the kitchen.
Ryleigh’s hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Without the makeup she wore last night, she looks even younger. She’s barefoot in my kitchen, singing the lyrics to some pop song that’s constantly on the radio. She finishes cooking a skillet filled with scrambled eggs and turns off the gas burner.
