Page 6 of Cherished By the BRATVA Grump

“Tamsin,” she says, as Misha stirs against her breast. “This is my cousin-in-law, Demyan. He works with my husband in their family business…” She hesitates for a moment, then adds, “in shipping and freight.” She is smiling, almost in an encouraging way at me and I wonder if I’m being set up.

It’s been a long time since I went on a date. Not since before the contract with the cruise liner. I was too busy dancing and working to take any sort of romantic life seriously. Now I’m twenty-four and feel completely untethered from any kind of normalcy when it comes to relationships.

Demyan is looking at me. He hasn’t touched the cake. Red, one of the cats, is making his way over and getting ready to steal it away until Dee catches him by his middle and redirects him to the cat tree in the corner.

“Demyan, this is Tamsin, she is one of our oldest friends, a professional dancer, and an all-round riot to be with.”

“I can be a lot,” I agree with a sigh. That’s what people have told me over the years, at least.

”But you’ll go to dinner with me?” Demyan says, like he hasn’t even heard the last chunk of conversation. “Any place you like.”

I spoon a piece of cake into my mouth and chew it while considering him. He isn’t the kind of guy I’d typically find attractive. That’s not to say he isn’t wildly attractive. It’s just that he is handsome in a way that’s intimidating. After spending years being pawed and harassed by men who think they own you—because men—he would usually be one I automatically avoid. He is strong in that obvious way. Muscles stretching out the fabric of his shirt. Tattooed. Every bit of his skin from the neck down if what I can see is anything to go by.

Mostly, he looks like he could tear me apart if I made one wrong move.

I swallow the cake, but my mouth has gone dry.

“Okay,” I say, not knowing if the butterflies in my stomach are excitement, anticipation, or dread. “Dinner. But at my mom’s place.”

A flicker of confusion passes over his face, and then he nods.

“Deal. When?”

I shrug. “Tonight? We might as well get it over with. Then we can go back to our lives and pretend it never happened.”

Demyan’s head moves in the slightest nod. His eyes flare, and a tiny, quiet part of my brain realizes he just took that as a challenge. That will either feed his competitive need to win or put him off entirely, as I’ll be considered too much like hard work.

I get up from the table and take the mop from Delilah just as her husband, Jasper, walks through the door. He pulls her into a hug and kisses the top of her head.

I try not to hear him as he tells her how beautiful she looks, and how much he has missed her. She giggles and pats his chest lightly, loving every second. And so she should. It’s lovely.

“Can I take this one home?” he asks Sammie.

“Like I could stop her from leaving with you,” Sammie quips.

He nods at Demyan. “Eduard said you’d be here today…helping.”

“I was relegated to the booth for being too scary,” Demyan explains before biting into his cake.

Sammie nods in agreement. “Tamsin already said she’ll help out while Dee is out having the baby. And I don’t think Demyan would fit behind the counter.” She frowns over to Demyan who just shrugs.

“Fair enough,” Jasper says, pulling Delilah towards the door.

The rest of the closing process goes smoothly, at least I think it does. Sammie shows me how to cash up and where the safe is. Then she ushers me and Demyan out the back door before locking it.

“Are you okay to come again tomorrow?” she asks. “It’s okay if you have other plans.” She looks at Demyan when she says it, and I have to bite my tongue.

“I’ll be here at whatever time you want,” I offer with a tight smile.

“Well, Dee is opening, but I can be here too. That way we can show you the morning routine.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, giving her a quick hug while being mindful not to squash the baby. He is all pink and chubby and looks so at peace tucked up against his mom.

We say our goodbyes and I head to my mom’s place, typing out a quick text about bringing Demyan home and asking her to play crazy mom for me when we get there. I remember her doing the same for Phoebe when a guy wouldn’t leave her alone. I thought it was hilarious at the time, but now I can see it serves a purpose.

She sends a thumbs-up back, and I immediately know something isn’t right.

My mother has never sent me an emoji in her life.