Yuri barks in Russian to a passing waitress—what, I have no clue.
Her dark glare and abrupt, “Da, nachal’nik!” causes Yuri to bark with laughter, his eyes full of amusement at his pissed waitress. I understood her, ‘Yes, boss,’ very clearly.
Yuri laughs and slaps me on my back. “She’ll bring your drinks. Come sit, my friends.” He leads us toward the back of his club to a booth already occupied by Emelia.
My surprise shows as she quickly gets to her feet to greet us.
“I was early,” she explains, “so Yuri very kindle showed me to this table.” She offers Yuri a dazzling smile.
I’m not even sure she knows what she’s doing to him with that smile because she has a ‘no touch’ air about her—an innocence.
“I did not think that she would like to sit out in the open,” Yuri offers. “Now I must leave. I have business. Goodbye, moi druz’ya.”
He disappears through a door in the back of Poles.
Taking our seats, Emelia looks nervous. I’m sure it’s neither Noah nor me who has her this way. We may have only recently connected, but Emelia is a friendly, confident person so something is going on with her.
Unable to watch her twitch a moment longer, I cover her hands with mine. “What’s going on, Emelia?”
She fights back tears before looking at me. “Dante told me I’m not allowed to travel to Denver and stay with him.” She swipes at a wayward tear. “All my brothers travel, and well, my twin, although I love Diego, he has a revolving door of women so I don’t want to stay with him. If I don’t stay with Dante, I’ll have to go home.” She tugs her hands away and takes a long swallow of her drink. “I’m twenty-seven. How many twenty-seven year olds live with their parents?”
She has a point.
“I texted you because you’re the closet one to my age, I figured you’d be more understanding. Plus, you’re the easiest to talk to.”
It makes me feel good inside knowing that she came to me, but I don’t have a clue how to help her. I’ve never been any good at dishing out advice.
Noah leans in, and placing his palm on my thigh, saves me from answering. “Ramon’s shit at giving out advice, but I’m not. First though, tell me what was going on between Dante and you at the wedding because I felt the daggers from where I was sitting.”
Although I haven’t given that much thought, it has crossed my mind once or twice as to what was going on.
“He’s an ass…but now that I’m back from Europe, I want to spend time with him and see his church, and meet his friends. He says it’s not the right place for me. How can Denver not be the right place for me? He’s so infuriating…Ugh! He isn’t my keeper so there’s nothing stopping me from traveling on my own to Denver.” She smiles, but it slips and her heartbreak is clear for all to see. “I’d travel with Dante, though.”
There’s certainly more to this than she’s letting on. I need to concentrate on the problem…it feels like I’m missing something, but the feel of Noah’s hand as he caresses my thigh is distracting. It’s even more distracting when he rubs his knuckles down the bulge forming behind my zipper. Thank God for dimmed lights. I’m also presuming that I’m forgiven for earlier.
I still need to explain to him why I pushed him away. Why I felt I needed to be alone, instead of letting him stay and comfort me, which I know he would have done without question if I’d let him. I hurt him with my words and I need to make it right.
“He really doesn’t want me there and it hurts. He’s my…brother. We’re adults now so the age difference shouldn’t be a problem. I mean, I can understand years ago when I was growing up, but now he’s just being an idiot.”
I debate stopping Noah and his wandering hand but I don’t. I like the feel of it on my thigh, and he’s heightening my arousal. He’s coming back to my apartment tonight. I can’t let him go back to that apartment across from the site. No more. This is it.
Feeling like a weight has lifted from my shoulders, I rest my palm on Noah’s thigh and squeeze.
“He makes me feel like a teenager all over again,” Emelia continues, oblivious to the arousing caresses going on under the table.
“I’m not difficult to live with, although Dante seems to think I will be. He says that he’s a priest and can’t have women’s panties all over his home. I mean, I wasn’t exactly planning on displaying them. Besides, what about his shorts? He’s not exactly innocent.”
I choke on my drink. “Emelia, he’s a priest for God’s sake.”
She rolls her eyes. “I meant, he’s a guy and going to have guy undies hanging around, so I don’t see the problem about my panties.”
Noah bursts out laughing. I can’t help myself and join in. Emelia looks so disgruntled, and her talk of panties is hilarious.