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His eyes always drew me in, too. They were sky blue and reflected a sharp intellect. This was a man who didn’t miss much, so maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising when he asked, “Are you alright?”
It threw me off, though. Was something amiss about me? Did I look pale, or sickly? “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“You’re moving as if your back hurts.” He had a subtle accent. Russian, maybe?
“Oh! Yeah, I strained it while I was surfing this morning.” I’d been trying to ignore the constant ache in my lower back. It was news to me that it actually showed.
He looked surprised. “You surf?”
“I’m learning.”
He started to say something but apparently thought better of it. After a moment, he asked, “Have you seen a doctor for your back?”
“No.”
“Why not? It could be something serious.”
He was so intense. His gaze remained locked with mine, which made it hard to think straight. “It’s not. Besides, I don’t have health insurance,” I said. “The only time I’d actually go to a doctor would be to have a severed limb reattached. Anything less than that gets a bandage and some ibuprofen.” What the hell was I even saying right now?
“You’re sure it doesn’t require medical attention?”
“I’m positive. A day or two, and I’ll be good as new.” I tried to steer the conversation back into familiar territory by asking, “Shall I put in an order for your usual?”
At that, he seemed to remember what he was doing here. He broke eye contact and murmured, “Yes, please.” Then he began fidgeting with his wine glass, lining it up precisely with his silverware. It seemed our conversation had thrown him off, too.
The next hour went like it always did. I brought him a green salad, followed by a bowl of mushroom risotto, and he took his time and savored his meal. After that, I brought him a cup of coffee and retreated to the far side of the dining room, where I tried to be subtle about watching him.
I loved this next bit. Like always, he put on a pair of glasses, which made me weak in the knees. He was already mind-blowingly sexy, but to me, that pushed him right over the top. Then he took out that evening’s reading material, which was usually a boring-looking printout he’d brought along in a fancy folder.
He always lingered almost until closing time, which was fine by me. The restaurant was open until ten, but it became emptier and emptier from eight o’clock onward, so it wasn’t like I needed the table.
I dropped his bill around nine forty-five, and as I refilled his coffee cup, he looked up at me and said, “Thank you, Timothy.”
I always liked it when he addressed me by name. I’d introduced myself just once, the first time he came in, and he never forgot it. As he held my gaze and scrambled my thoughts, I murmured, “You’re welcome…I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
He quickly pulled a silver card holder from his jacket pocket. “Apologies. That was an oversight on my part.” Then he handed me a thick, embossed business card which said ‘A. Volkov,’ and a little chuckle slipped from me before I could stop it. His brow creased as he asked, “Something’s funny?”
“Sorry, no. I mean, kind of. I wasn’t expecting you to hand me a card introducing yourself as ‘a wolf,’ so it threw me for a moment. It’s a cool name, though. Way cooler than mine, which is Pasternak. It means parsnip.”
The look of surprise was back. “You speak Russian.”
“No, not really. I just remember a few words here and there, mostly from the bedtime stories my grandmother would tell me as a child.” After a pause, I gestured with the coffee pot and said, “Anyway, I should get back to work.”
“Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to keep you.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m glad we talked. I’d wanted to, before, but I didn’t want to bother you.” Good lord, why was I so awkward around this man?
“It wouldn’t have been an imposition.”
I had no idea what to say to that, so I nodded before rushing off.
As I returned the pot to its machine, Daniel cornered me and whispered, “It finally happened! You actually had a conversation with Mr. tall, dark, and mysterious! What did he say?”
“Not much. I did most of the talking. He gave me his business card, though.”
Daniel took it from me when I held it up. “A. Volkov, President and CEO, Global Investment Solutions.” He handed the card back to me and said, “That’s exactly what I assumed he did for a living, and no wonder he’s in here all the time. His office is right across the street.”
I stuck the card in my wallet as I muttered, “I totally embarrassed myself. I laughed at his name, and then I told him mine means ‘parsnip.’ He probably thinks there’s something wrong with me.”
