Her eyes went round.
“I don’t need you corrupting my good little girl.” Was he teasing? In a lower voice, he told her, “I won’t hesitate to call Ambrose if your brattiness starts rubbing off on her.”
Everly swallowed hard, glared, then smiled winningly. “I would never do that, Kon.” She saluted. “Brat’s honor.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Ambrose is a saint.”
“There was nothing saintly about him this morning.” Her smile turned sly.
What in the world were they talking about? Most of the words were foreign to Varushka but Kon sounded vaguely threatening. Did American men often take their friends’ women in hand?
With a heavy sigh, he turned for the door. “You two have fun. Everly, the sink is clean if you need to do any washing.”
“Don’t worry about a thing.” She followed him toward the door. “She’s in good hands.”
Varushka trailed behind. At the door, Kon turned, then closed the distance between them. He stared down at her. “Do you have the phone I gave you?”
She nodded.
“You remember how to call me?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t hesitate to call if you need something, okay?”
“Yes, Sir.” The word slipped out again, despite him having told her she didn’t need to call him that. Yet every time she did, he got this funny look on his face. It was both amusing and hot.
He cursed again in Russian, inhaled a deep breath, then kissed her forehead. If he didn’t start kissing her in more interesting places soon, she’d start calling him Papa. She got the feeling he was afraid of shocking her, or maybe scaring her. True, he was intimidating, but she couldn’t deny it sent a thrill through her. Was there something wrong with her? She’d never felt that way about a man before. And she barely knew him. Even a glowing recommendation and good reputation could be false. Perhaps she shouldn’t be too eager for more than a small kiss now and then.
Everly closed the door behind him. Varushka felt like a mouse trapped in the cage of a hungry cat. Everly turned and grinned madly. “So . . . what color should we do your hair?”
Varushka’s eyes went to Everly’s colorful streaks. She scrunched her nose. It looked pretty on the girl but didn’t fit Varushka’s simple style.
Everly looked her over, walking a circle around her. “Hmm. I think we should keep it natural. It’s such a pretty color. Maybe we’ll just add a few highlights and lowlights to make it more . . . interesting.”
“O-okay.” She had no idea what the girl was talking about. The word “natural” seemed good though.
Everly stopped and crossed her arms, then narrowed her eyes. “I’m thinking long layers and maybe we’ll straighten out those waves. I’ll give you some product, teach you how to use it. Konstantin will love it.”
That was all that mattered. She grinned.
Soon after, she found herself seated on the kitchen stool while Everly painted her hair and wrapped it in tinfoil. The smell burned her nose and she fought back a moment of panic, wondering if her fancy product was going to make her hair fall out. Everly chatted about all sorts of things—life in America, how she knew Konstantin, her husband called Ambrose. The abundance of information was making her dizzy. Or maybe it was the goop she’d put in her hair.
It didn’t help that many of her words were unfamiliar. Maybe Konstantin had a point about practicing English more.
“You don’t talk much,” Everly finally said, pausing for a breath.
“Sorry. I don’t speak good English. I don’t want to sound . . . dumb.”
“Meh. Lots of Americans sound dumb even in their own language.” Varushka laughed along with her, not sure why she’d make fun of her own country. “So, how are things with Kon so far? Do you like him?”
“Yes. But I don’t think he likes me.” She dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap, trying not to show too much sadness.
“What? Why would you think that?”
“He seems upset people think I’m his child.”
“Well, I’m fixing that.” She stepped around Varushka, then stood in front of her. “That has to sit for a little while. Then we’ll rinse you out.”