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I watch him keenly, feeling that undeniable energy between us again, along with something else lurking in his dark gaze that looks dangerous.
It makes me wonder if he is.
No. I shouldn’t think that. My thoughts disconnect when he steps back and opens the door of his truck to take out a rucksack.
When he looks back at me, an awkward silence drifts between us. The sort that probably means I should say goodbye now. But suddenly, I want to know more about him, especially if he’s not complaining.
“How long are you in town for?”
“I have some business to take care of. I’m here for as long as that takes.”
“With your brother?”
He smiles again. “Word travels fast.”
“Around here it does.” I relax my shoulders a little. “I have a restaurant on the other side of the beach, right by the pier. It’s called The Spot. I’ve been told I make the best apple pie. You are welcome to drop by sometime for a meal on the house. I definitely owe you for last night.”
He raises his brows. “Thanks, and pie sounds great. But what if I want a taste of something else?” I definitely don’t miss the meaning behind his words, or the way he’s looking at me.
“I have an extensive menu with a variety of food choices.”
“Alright, Malyshka.”
Malyshka.He’s called me that several times. I definitely need to know what it means.
“What does Malyshka mean?”
“It means baby girl in Russian. Like it?”
I’m not sure who wouldn’t. “I do.” The flutter of butterflies in my stomach is unexpected, and I know, given my circumstances, I should catch myself before I go deeper down this rabbit hole. But whatever spell he has on me keeps me rooted to curiosity. “What’s your name?”
He sets the bag over his shoulder. “Malik.”
“Nice name.” Now I can stop calling him Mr. Handsome. Even though I still think he’s ridiculously gorgeous. “I’m Gwen.”
“I know, Malyshka.”
A gust of wind picks up my hair and blows it in my face. Malik steps forward to get closer, personal space close, but he feels like an invited guest. Then, as if it were the most natural thing, he takes a lock and allows the ends to curl about his finger.
I look up at him, into those dark eyes which seem like pools of coal against the moonlight, and the desire I witness makes me almost think he’s going to kiss me.
I nearly believe it, until he inches back, breaking the momentary spell.
As my hair floats away from his finger, I look down at his hand, and the tattoos on the underside of his wrist catch my attention.
One is a Viking rune, and the other, which is just above it, is the Greek Sigma symbol.
While those tattoos aren’t uncommon and I’ve seen loads of people with Viking runes and Greek symbols tattooed on their bodies, that specific combination on his wrist triggers something in my mind. Something I feel I’ve seen somewhere before.
And not in a good way. The recognition revives that previous vibe of danger I sensed from him, but when he rests his hand at his side, removing the tattoo from my view, my thoughts break.
I catch myself, so I don’t look so obvious. Then the echo of footsteps at his door turns us toward it. My gaze lands on a man as tall as Malik and just as muscular.
I assume he must be his brother because they look extremely similar. Although Malik has dark blond straighter hair, and his brother has black loose curls.
He stands in the doorway for a breath before he’s gone, but he definitely carries that dangerous vibe, too. I felt it all the way over here.
That’s probably my cue to not just leave, but stay away.
