Page 40 of Born into Chaos

I watch the two of them, wondering how in the hell I’m going to survive this trip and why I thought it was a good idea. We’re completely alone, and I still have no idea what to do about either one of the females in front of me.

Since I don’t have any answers, I busy myself with work, hoping that inspiration will hit me at some point in the very near future.

Chapter 6

Svetlana

This whole close-quarters thing would be so much easier if Vitya weren’t so damn good looking. I knew the man was ripped, but I had no idea how ripped until my fingers slid along his waist and I felt the hard muscles that he’s been hiding beneath his shirt. Pretending to be his wife and the mother of his baby at the grocery store started out as me just goofing around and trying to make us look like a family, but the longer I kept my body snuggled up against his, the more it started to feelright. The memory of his hand on the nape of my neck, giving me a soft warning squeeze, sends a warmth to every part of my body.

Of course, he couldn’t put distance between us fast enough once we were out of the store. Sometimes I think there’s something between us, and then other times it becomes painfully obvious that it’s completely one-sided.

“He’s a confusing man,” I whisper to Samantha as she sucks back the bottle I’m holding. The little thing is always ravenous, reminding me of my own appetite. If she were old enough, I know she’d be reaching for one of my moon pies, and the thought makes me smile.

“All right, that’s the last of it,” Vitya says, walking in and puttingthe last pile of baby supplies on the floor next to all the other things he’s already stacked up. “I’ll deal with all this later. You need to eat something first.”

“I can make my own lunch,” I try and tell him, but he just shakes his head at me.

“You’re not eating a box of moon pies for lunch. I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches. I need to marinate the chicken anyway.”

As soon as he leaves the room, I look at Samantha and whisper, “He’s gorgeous and he cooks. We really need to figure out a way to keep him.”

She kicks her feet and flings her arms around, which I’m taking as her wholehearted agreement to what I’ve just said. While Vitya makes our lunch, Samantha finishes eating, and by the time I’ve gotten her burped and changed, everything is ready and I’m feeling like a pro at this baby thing.

“Do you think all babies are this easygoing?” I ask him, walking into the kitchen with Samantha in my arms. He’s already set her seat up on the island so she’ll be right next to us while we eat, and when I strap her in, she immediately kicks her legs and keeps her eyes on the soft toys that are hanging down.

“I really doubt she’s going to stay this easygoing.”

“Don’t jinx it, Vitya.” I grab the plate he offers me and take one of the stools at the island. “I know Isabella took forever to sleep through the night, and Roma has become pretty clingy lately, but Samantha just seems really chill.”

“For now,” Vitya adds, determined to be a Debbie Downer.

Her tiny foot is encased in her pink sleeper, and when she kicks it out again, I give it a soft squeeze. She lets out a grunt that sounds a lot like a laugh.

I smile at Vitya. “I think she just laughed.”

“She grunted,” he says, while adding mustard to his own sandwich. “She probably just filled her diaper again.”

Grabbing my own sandwich, I say, “I think she laughed,” before taking a big bite. I let out an appreciative sigh when I taste how good itis. I’d usually just throw some turkey between to slices of bread and call it good, but Vitya’s created a work of art. Not only is there turkey, but there’s also ham, and he’s added spinach, tomatoes, and a slice of Muenster cheese.

“Holy crap,” I mumble around my mouthful. “Did you add cucumber slices?”

“I did. You’re like a toddler, Sveta. I have to sneak your vegetables in.”

I’d shoot him an offended look, but I’m too busy taking another bite. I had no idea you could put so much on a sandwich. Even the mustard he chose is tasty. Vitya doesn’t use the plain old yellow stuff. This has seeds and a bit of spice to it. It’s delicious, and it doesn’t take me long to finish the whole thing.

“Want me to make you another one?” he asks, only now just finishing off the first half of his.

I think about it, but in the end decide to just move on to dessert. I eat a cupcake while he finishes his lunch. I watch him while he eats, noticing the sharp line of his jaw, the stubble on his face that’s thicker than I’ve ever seen it, and the tattoo that I’ll never be able to get enough of. It moves while he chews, and I wish I could grab my sketchpad and draw this moment. Instead, I do what I always do and take a mental snapshot so I can draw it later from memory.

“When did you get your tattoo, the dragon on your neck?”

He stills at my question before finishing his last bite. When he’s done, because he refuses to mumble around his food like I often do, he says, “A long time ago.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

He grabs my empty plate and starts loading the dishwasher. When he keeps his back turned toward me, I walk over to stand next to him.

“I thought we were past the silent treatment.”

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