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“But I think you know it wasn’t a good idea.”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then moved his hands. “Sure,” he said noncommittally. Jumping off the table, he found my shorts and tossed them to me, then the top, which I put on and closed as best as I could. He put his trunks back on, and with a huff, he took off upstairs, returning a second later with a fluffy bathrobe.
“Put that on so you can feel more comfortable, then let’s talk about this. I’ll make us omelets.”
I still wanted to run and hide, but his challenging look made me put on the robe and slump onto a chair. “I was going to make the eggs,” I remembered. “Before…”
He turned and grinned. “Before I fucked you senseless.”
My face burned, but I couldn’t help a small smile. “Stop,” I pleaded.
God, the table. We had sex on the table. I retrieved the sugar bowl and salt and pepper shakers from the floor, then grabbed the kitchen sponge to wipe down the surface.
He looked at me like I was crazy, then shrugged, pulling the eggs from the fridge and cracking several into a bowl. “So, you started to say how amazing it was,” he said without turning around.
I wadded up a paper towel and tossed it at him. It only fluttered uselessly to the floor three feet short of the target. “Stop,” I said again.
With a sigh, he turned and shook his head at me. “It’s fine, Samantha. We can be grownups about this. That was amazing, but it was a mistake. We’ll never do it again.”
“Yes, all that. Thank you.”
“Not my first rodeo,” he muttered, whisking the eggs a bit too vigorously.
I didn’t think I was supposed to hear that last bit, and it shouldn’t have stung. I knew all about his past rodeos since I changed his sheets daily and was constantly shaking out women’s lingerie.
As he cooked, he talked about his cousin’s collection of DVDs. “He’s crazy about them, has probably a thousand all stored by genre and alphabetically. Any movie you want to watch, I bet he has it up in the media room.”
“I can watch any movie I want with a few clicks on my laptop,” I said, unimpressed.
He flipped the omelets like a master chef. “I know, right? But he’s convinced we’ll be glad he has them one day.”
“Well, staying entertained after the apocalypse is important,” I said.
He slid my omelet onto a plate, plopped it down in front of me, and then sat across from me with his. Somehow the awkwardness had begun to melt away, and it was as if we weren’t grappling each other on this very surface half an hour ago.
“Please tell me you like zombie movies,” he said. “Or any end-of-the-world stuff.”
“It’s my favorite.” I named off my top movies and TV shows, and he assured me they’d be waiting upstairs on vintage DVDs.
He immediately agreed with my selections and named a few more I’d forgotten but still loved. “How are you so cool for a girl?” he asked.
“Oh my gosh, with that old-fashioned gamer nonsense. Girls are cool.”
As we chatted, laughed, and found things we had in common, I began to forget my fears. I couldn’t make myself believe Leo would ever really kill anyone. It just didn’t seem possible. I must have been mistaken in what I heard during the rescue. He was good, sweet, and funny. He clearly loved life, and someone like that couldn’t so easily take it from another person.
Before I knew it, the most delicious omelet I had ever tasted was a memory, and I started to nod over my empty plate.
“Come on,” he said, standing up at last. “If you don’t get up and go to bed soon, I’ll have to carry you.”
That couldn’t happen because I’d surely pull him in with me and make the same mistake again. I dragged myself off the chair and slogged upstairs, waving at him before I closed the door. Was I excited about what the next day would bring?
I was out as soon as my head hit the feather pillow and woke up to the sound of all too familiar barking. The sun was already high in the sky through my window, which meant I’d slept much later than I was used to. Refreshed, I jumped out of bed and threw on some shorts and a tank top, running to see if it was just wishful thinking that I heard a dog barking. But no, Burya had arrived with Leo’s assistant, along with a few burly men who hustled out of view when they saw me bouncing downstairs.
Burya yapped and jumped happily at my legs, and I dropped to my knees and let him slobber all over me. It felt like ages since I’d seen him, and I was so glad he was joining us. It was another positive toward Leo that he hadn’t forgotten his pet in all the commotion.
I asked Leo’s assistant if he had the puppy’s leash handy since the little guy was clearly over being stuck in a travel crate and dying to get out for a walk. I was excited to poke around the gardens, too, since everything looked so beautiful from my bedroom balcony.
Mr. Kuschnev took Burya’s leash and harness out of his backpack, looking relieved to hand him off to someone else. As I got him ready to go outside, he wagged his tail so hard he knocked himself over.
