From Lukov with Love

He fully blinked. “A picture book?”

That wiped my expression clean, at least until I narrowed my eyes at him. “So what if I fucking like picture books and your sister reads out menus to me?” I blurted out, before I could remind myself not to engage in this shit.

Ivan seemed to rear back for a moment before blinking. Then he shook his head. “I knew you were mad. I knew it.”

Damn it. “I’m not mad, dumbass.”

He shook that dark head. “You literally yelled at me fifteen seconds ago.”

I blinked, fisting my hand without even realizing it. “Because you get on my nerves.”

“Over me talking about you liking picture books. I’ve said worse things to you and you haven’t batted an eyelash, but—”

Was he right? Of course he was. Was I going to admit it? Hell no.

“I’m not mad,” I repeated, trying to tell myself to calm down and keep it cool. To not let him get the best of me because it wouldn’t be worth it. It wouldn’t. Nope.

“You’re mad,” he insisted.

I slid him a look. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he kept going, not realizing he was pissing me off more and more… or maybe he did know and he just didn’t care. It was Ivan. It could be either. “You aren’t the first woman to lie and tell me you’re not mad when you really are.”

I was going to sock him one of these days, and he was going to deserve it.

But I could only do it when we weren’t in public. I couldn’t forget that stipulation.

“Don’t compare me to your exes,” I gritted out.

Something strange came over his face so fast, and was gone just as quickly, that I might have thought I was imagining it. But I wasn’t.

Before he could feed me some more bullshit or try to bring up his ex-girlfriends or ex-partners or whoever the fuck else he was referring to, I kept going. “I don’t care what you think about me, Ivan. If I did, then this would be a different story, but I don’t. There isn’t anything you can say to me that would hurt my feelings.”

His blink that time was different. Slower. Longer. But it still only lasted about three seconds before his facial expression was back to normal, and he said, “I know you well enough.”

“You don’t know shit,” I clipped.

But this man had never been one to back down, and I doubted he ever would. He stared at me for a moment, taking a deep breath, then letting it back out. “I know you better than you think I do.”

It was my turn to take a breath in and out. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, I told myself. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t care. I knew what this was for. A year. A possibility to win. A possibility to get a permanent partner afterward.

“No. You don’t,” I claimed, making sure my exhale was nice and smooth instead of choppy. The last thing I wanted was for him to know he was having any kind of effect on me.

“I leave you both alone for four minutes and you’re already arguing,” Coach Lee’s familiar voice carried out across the ice from her spot by the boards, as she unclipped her skate guards to join us on the ice. “Are you two ever going to get along?”

Ivan said, “Yes” at the same time I said, “No,” giving him a dirty-ass look as I said it.

Coach Lee sighed, not even looking up as she did it. “Forget I asked. Let’s get started, shall we?”

I should have known that today would be the day this would happen, I thought to myself, as I turned the key in the ignition and heard nothing. Not the choke of the engine trying to turn on. Nothing. Just a click.

“Goddammit,” I hissed as I banged my forearms on the steering wheel and hissed out, “Mother-fucking-son-of-a-bitch-ass-whore. FUCK ME!”

Why? Why did this have to happen? If I cried, right then I would feel totally justified for doing it.

I was tired. My ankle, wrist, and knees hurt from Ivan dropping me on the fucking ice as we worked on twists—which meant he hurled me straight up into the air, while I tried to do at least three turns at the peak of height, and then he caught me again on the way down. He had only dropped me three times, but it might as well have been a dozen. He’d dropped me twice that amount on the mats, if not more.

All I wanted to do was go home. It was Saturday afternoon, early enough so that no one had arrived at the LC for evening and night lessons, and it was my night off from Pilates and the runs I’d been going on multiple times a week, usually with my brother, who had only just barely begun to forgive me for not telling him about Ivan. It was my night to have dinner without rushing because I needed to get to bed or take an ice bath, or whatever else there was to do.

And all I wanted was to go eat the lasagna and chocolate cake my mom had said she was going to make. I’d been dreaming about her husband’s garlic breadsticks for the last two days since she had let me know Saturday was going to be the day so I could plan my cheat meal around red meat and cheese.

And I was stuck.

Of course I was going to be stranded.

Drawing my phone out of my bag, I tried to think of who I could call. I had declined roadside assistance on my insurance because it made it more expensive. I could call my oldest brother, but according to our group chat message from earlier, he had left for a trip out of town that morning with some girl he was seeing. Jonathan would tell me to look up what to do on YouTube, and my mom’s husband was worthless with cars. My mom, though, would tell me to call my uncle, who had his own mechanic shop and a tow truck.

So…

I looked through my contacts for the right number and hit send. Three rings later, his low voice came up on the other end with, “Baby girl, how’s it going?”

I couldn’t help but smile. He and my grandpa were the only ones who ever called me things like that. “Hi, Uncle Jeff. I’m alive, you?”

“Still kicking, sweetie.”

“I’m sorry to bother you—”

He let out a muffled chuckle. “How many times have I told you you’re not a bother? What’s going on?”

“My car won’t start,” I told him immediately. “The engine isn’t turning; there’s just a click sound. I didn’t leave my lights on.”

He made a humming noise. “How old is your battery?”

Shit. “I have no idea.”

He laughed. “Chances are it’s your battery, but I’d like to take a look at it. Your terminals might be corroded, and I could clean them up for you, but I won’t know until I take a look. Problem is, I’m in Austin today and tomorrow. Where you at?”

“I’m in the parking lot of the Lukov Complex,” I replied.

“Could you leave it there until I get back into town tomorrow?”

Tomorrow…. All I had to do was go for a run, have a stretch, and buy my weekly groceries. I could borrow my mom’s car for that. “Yeah, I can leave it here.”

“Okay, leave it there. Tomorrow I can meet you, take a look at it, and let you know what’s going on, is that all right?”

It was either that or paying a tow truck driver hundreds of dollars, which I needed for other things, to tow my car home or to his shop, which was closed anyway. “It’s fine. Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Girl, what did I just say? You’re never a bother. I’ll see you tomorrow though, honey. It’ll be early evening, so keep that busy schedule open for me. It was about time I dropped by to see your mama anyway. It’s been long enough, she needs somebody to remind her she looked like a troll under the bridge before she hit puberty,” he laughed.

I smiled. “You’re the only one who can do it. She almost beat my ass the last time I told her I thought I saw a wrinkle on her face.”

He laughed more. “All right, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sorry again I can’t help you out today.”

“It’s okay. Bye, Uncle Jeff.”

“Bye-bye, Jasmine baby,” he said before hanging up.

I felt better as I hung up the phone.

Then remembered I still had to get home.

Fucking shit.

Shoving the door open, I got out of the car and went around to the other side as I decided who would give me the least amount of hell if I asked for a ride. I was opening the passenger door to grab my bag, debating whether Ruby or Tali would be the best option when a car honked. I ignored it as I grabbed my bag and swung it out, closing the door with my hip as the sound of a car honking again made me glance over my shoulder… and regret it.

Because in a black car with sleek lines and the driver-side window rolled down was a face I knew too well.

“Want some candy, little girl?” the idiot asked as he placed a forearm on the door and shoved his black-framed, black-lensed glasses up onto the top of his equally dark hair.

I blinked as I took a step back and let my butt rest against my mustard-colored passenger door of my Subaru. “Not from you,” I replied, watching the guy I had tried my best not to talk to all afternoon.

He didn’t flinch or make a face, but raised his eyebrows. “Need a ride?”

How the hell did he know I needed a ride?