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“A year’s dog grooming ... Brodie will love you,” I suggested.
“Brodie will eat me if I do that to him,” The Russian said, as we moved along the line and moved past people bidding. “Here’s one ... a couple portrait ... what about a nude drawing of the two of us?”
“The world’s not ready for that,” I assured him. “Ooh, a signed shirt from Saints’ Captain Lucas Ainswright! Did you know he was donating that?”
“No. I should bid and get it back for him,” The Russian joked, “give it to him for Christmas.”
We continued along the line and then my physio Carlo came over for a quick chat. I introduced The Russian and then let him keep looking while Carlo and I had a brief chat. The Russian look towards me and Carlo a few times ... funny, like he was sussing out if Carlo was any competition, so I excused myself and caught up with The Russian again as he put a pen back in his suit.
“What did you bid on?” I asked him suspiciously.
“Never you mind, but I had better win it. I’m very competitive,” he said.
“Me too, funny that given we’re both playing professional sport,” I reminded him.
Then Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight came on and The Russian sighed. “Great song, would you care to dance, Brooker?”
“I would, thank you, Russian,” I said, a silly grin on my face, and he led me to the dance floor. I was not sure technically that you could call it dancing, but he pulled me close and we moved. I had one hand on his shoulder and the other under his jacket, on his hip. He wrapped his fingers around my hand pressed to his shoulder and held me tightly, his face nestled into my hair. I tried to remember every detail of that perfect moment and when I looked at The Russian’s lowered head, he had his eyes closed. Was he thinking it was perfect too? Or was he thinking of someone else? He opened his eyes momentarily and caught me looking at him.
“I’m not thinking about anything,” he said.
I laughed. “What? How did you know I was even thinking that?”
“You’re a chick. I grew up with four of them ... aren’t you always thinking ‘what are we thinking’?”
I looked a bit sheepish and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Mm,” he said, “if you must know, I was thinking you smell and feel good.”
“Really?” I said. Yep, that was the best I could come up with after that compliment, sad wasn’t it?
“Really Brooker, now be quiet, I’m dancing here,” he said, and closed his eyes again.
“Okay, sorry,” I whispered, and closed my eyes, but not for long. I wanted to see him as well as feel him; I kept my eyes open and kept catching the eyes of my friends with their encouraging looks. I was in heaven. The lyrics were so beautiful too that I was hoping he had picked it for that reason ... maybe just a little anyway.
Damn Eric Clapton, he finished too soon and damn that DJ who then invited us to take our seats for dessert and the results of the silent auction. This time they placed the fruit salad in front of me and sticky date pudding in front of The Russian. I didn’t know if he had a sweet tooth, but I wanted his and reading my mind—or from the experience of growing up with four females—he swapped our bowls and I grinned my thanks.
The Russian shook his head. “The sacrifices I make for you, Brooker.”
“You’re the best for sure,” I said, taking a large bite of dessert and groaning.
“Well, don’t rub it in,” he said.
I put a taste on my spoon and offered it to him. I saw some flashes go ... seriously, now I was being snapped feeding him dessert? He was pretty cute though when he let me feed him.
Jenna, our master of ceremonies, called for our attention and began reading out the highest bid for each prize, and then the winner.
“The winner of the year’s worth of dog grooming with a value of $1200, is a bid for $3000 from Allen Stapelton,” Jenna announced. “Where are you, Allen?”
Allen waved from a table near the door and one of our marketing team ran over with his prize certificate.
“Give Allen a big round of applause, and thank you to Furry Friend’s Dog Grooming and Allen for the donation to our club.”
I turned to look at The Russian who sat behind me as we faced the stage. He leaned forward and I whispered in his ear. “I’m telling you, Brodie would have been the better for that,” I said, and The Russian grinned. “Promise me you didn’t bid on the portrait drawing on the basis it was nude?” I grimaced.
The Russian shook his head. “I can’t promise anything ... sorry, but if it comes through, I expect your one hundred percent support and participation.”
I gave a concerned moan and turned back around to face Jenna on the stage. I was so conscious of The Russian behind me; I wanted to lean into him, or for him to put his hands on me, but he didn’t. I could barely concentrate for sensing his presence and feeling his warm breath on my neck.
