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A deep male voice spoke up. “Brooker, open up.”
Oh my God, he was there. Play it cool. Deep breath.
“Who is it?” I teased, knowing full well who it was.
I heard him clear his throat while he swallowed his impatience.
“It’s your Sunday night date. Were you expecting your Thursday night date?”
I laughed. “Hello Alex,” I accentuated his name. “Come up, second floor, first door on the right.” I hung up and raced to the bathroom. I patted down my hair ... Lord knows why, it didn’t make any difference. I raced back out and opened the door. He was coming up the stairs with several suits covered in clear plastic, draped over his arm. I loved how easily he took the stairs like the athlete that he was.
I drank him in – what an Adonis. He was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and runners, and he looked so hot that I couldn’t take my eyes off his huge arms and chest and ...
“Nice location,” he said, stopping in front of me as I stood in the open doorway. “I hope it’s okay I came over unannounced, but I figured you’d be home preparing for your date with me.”
I smirked at him. “It’s only Thursday.”
“I know, but you want to be perfect.”
“Shut up and come in,” I said, trying to hide my smile as I stood aside to let him in. He grinned as he passed me. The Russian knew how to relax a situation. I glanced quickly at his butt and got caught in the act. He gave me a suspicious look and then turned his eyes to appraise my apartment. It was a decent size with a good view – the apartment that is; I had gotten it the first year of my contract when the area hadn’t been so trendy and now I owned it and it had increased in value a lot. I was super lucky.
“This your place?” he asked.
“Yep, all mine but I have a housemate. He’s out somewhere.”
“Why didn’t you take him to the Ball?” The Russian asked. He put the suits down over the back of the sofa.
“You want out?” I asked, challenging him.
“I never renege on a bet. But I wouldn’t mind a coffee.” He wandered around the room looking at my things. “I like your minimalist style.”
“Mm, I like space. Are you a minimalist too?” I asked.
“No. Probably more of a ‘leave it where it falls’ guy,” he said, picking up a photo of me with my parents. “You were a cute kid.” He said matter-of-factly.
“Still am cute,” I said, filling the kettle. He looked up and smiled at me. OMG he was beautiful; I loved the way he filled the lounge room and just looked so good in something so simple to wear. He noted the collar on my father in the photo.
“Your dad’s a reverend? Wow, that must have been an interesting upbringing. What’s your mom do?” he asked.
“She’s a reverend’s wife,” I said.
“Did you have one of those rebellious periods where you went against the church and your dad? Got a tattoo, went out with a bikie?” he teased.
I laughed. “Not yet, but I’m still planning to.” I pulled two mugs out of the cupboard then changed my mind and reached for two water glasses. “I was about to have some of my housemate’s beef casserole. Have you eaten? Want some?” I asked.
“Don’t want to impose,” he said, putting the photo down.
“Trust me, you wouldn’t be imposing. I’ve done nothing, Josh cooked, all I have to do is serve it.” I reached for two bowls without waiting for his answer and placed them on the counter. I kept sneaking glances at him. I couldn’t believe The Russian was in my living room – all six-foot-five of him, I just wanted to knock him to the ground and press all my bones against his.
I lifted the casserole out of the oven and opened the lid. The Russian came into the kitchen area to join me; be still my very loud beating heart. He sniffed the steam rising above the casserole.
“That’s good, really good.”
“Yeah, Josh loves to cook. I should reduce his rent for all the meals he’s cooked,” I said. “So, what’s with the suits?”
“Ah the suits,” he said, with a glance towards them.
I held up my hand. “Before you answer, grab a drink,” I nodded to the glasses. “Wine, water, cola, et cetera, in the fridge. Napkins top drawer, cutlery below, we can eat on the balcony” I said, issuing orders.
