Even put that plainly, Bonnie still had to blink her eyes about a half a dozen times and replay the question in her head before she could formulate an answer. “We’re not together.”
“Oh, really?” Ninette’s expression didn’t reflect any sarcasm, but the tone beneath her reply suggested she didn’t believe Bonnie in the slightest. She shrugged, smiled and looked back toward the rest of the crew. “Could have fooled me, sister.”
“No, really. I only met him last Monday.”
Ninette circled the butt of her cigarette with her thumb, her smile not dimming in the slightest. “Fires only take a second to spark. After that, it’s just a question of how much air and fuel there is to feed the burn.”
No.
Ninette was wrong.
Cassie and Evette were wrong.
They had to be. Because entertaining the possibility any of them were right scared the hell right out of her. “Guys like Roman don’t go for women like me.”
“Says who?”
“Um, says me. Says life.” She motioned toward the pool. “Look at them. There’s not a couple down there that doesn’t look like they came as a matched set.”
Ninette’s chuckle was pure feminine wickedness and confidence, and the gleam in her eye was just as shrewd and knowing as her son’s had been when they left the table. “Sweetheart, you don’t give yourself enough credit. I watched that boy when Danny showed interest and mentioned taking you with him to look for shop locations. You may not think you and Roman have a thing, but Roman’s definitely on board. Not only that, he’s makin’ his play and stakin’ his claim. As someone coming in from the outside, I’m telling you right now—the two of you seem to be a helluva matched set yourself.”
For once in her life, no snappy retorts jumped to her defense. No denials and no potshots from her conscience.
But in the silence, a host of sensations clamored inside her. The frigid quiver of fear. The liquid heat of sensual awareness and the fragile breeze of hope. All too easily, the times she’d been connected to Roman physically came to mind.
The press of his body when he’d caught her. How strong his arms had been around her and how careful he’d been to assure himself she was steady before he released his hold.
The warmth of his body last night. The way he’d cradled her close, covered her with a blanket and stroked her hair until she’d fallen asleep.
And this morning.
The tenderness in how he’d cupped the side of her face and how profoundly his words had moved through her.
You are not alone anymore, and you have far more cards than you know.
Roman Kozlov interested in a girl like her? Was it really possible?
“It scares the shit out of me.” It was a confession. One she could no more fathom uttering to a woman she’d barely met than she could figure out how she’d ended up here today talking about such an unexpected topic.
But she’d done it.
And in doing so, felt a surprising lightness creep into her heart.
“Which part? That you caught the notice of a good man? Or that you caught the hearts of the lot of them?”
The answer was instant and ripped right from her soul. “Both.”
Ninette inhaled deep and let it out slowly, the empathetic sound of a woman who’d felt such emotions for herself. “You know, once upon a time in my life, I struggled almost every day to make two dimes equal ten dollars. Back then, I never dreamed I’d have a nice home full of men I call my sons and be flying to even nicer estates on private jets.”
Leaning forward, Ninette stubbed out her cigarette. “Been around a long time and seen all kinds of people. If there’s one thing I’ve learned with absolute certainty it’s that when life gives you a chance at happiness, you grab onto the gift with both hands and hang on with all you’ve got.” She stood and rested her hand on Bonnie’s shoulder. “Fear is the worst bitch I know and will rob you fucking blind every single time. You’ve got a good thing. My advice—one street-smart woman to another? Hold on with all you’ve got.”
With that, she patted Bonnie’s shoulder and ambled toward the pool and the wonderful people that waited.
A light breeze lifted the hair away from Bonnie’s face, the touch of it cool in the shade, but not unpleasant like the days before had been. More of a gentle caress from nature. Like a mother’s soothing touch that seemed to echo the wisdom of Ninette’s words.
In the ashtray, the discarded cigarette sat amidst the ashes.
Thought you’d sworn off cigarettes.
Funny, now that Bonnie thought about it, Ninette hadn’t taken one drag off the thing once she’d fired it up. And even then it’d only been enough to get it lit.
Sneaky woman.
She hadn’t wanted a smoke. She’d wanted to talk and to do it without a table of ears to hear what she had to share.
The space around her heart grew tight, and a comforting warmth blossomed beneath her skin. Yes, she was in the middle of her own personal shitstorm—at least so far as her dad and brother were concerned. But Ninette was right.
For the first time in her life, she had some really nice freaking people rallied around to help her. And maybe—just maybe—had a man who was actually decent interested in her.
Fear was a cold and calculating bitch. One that had stolen more than her share off Bonnie’s plate already.
She stood and headed back toward the party. Fear could kiss her ass. This time she was going to hang the fuck on.
Chapter Eleven
Bonnie was a good teacher. Patient and methodical in how she went about showing her new charge the basics of tending bar. The realization didn’t shock Roman in the least, but definitely bolstered his appreciation of her skills. Especially considering how challenging Roman had found it himself to keep Jacob focused on learning anything.
Via the cameras aimed at the bar area for his André’s branch, Roman watched from his office monitors as Bonnie patiently demonstrated yet again how to ring up a drink order.
Jacob spent half as much time appreciating Bonnie’s ass as he did paying attention to her instructions, but at least he seemed to be grasping the basics for a change. At nineteen years old, the young man who’d grown up in orphanages and foster homes his whole life had lost all access to government assistance and was floundering to find a niche to support himself—a common theme he’d encountered far too often mentoring boys raised without benefit of a steady family. What was worse, Jacob had a hard time focusing and lacked the physical strength to be successful at the more physical options available within Roman’s businesses. Perhaps with Bonnie’s help, he’d be able to hold a steady job tending bar.