Opposites Ignite by Sadira Stone (crime books to read .txt) 📗

Rosie clapped a hand to her mouth. “Herring?”

“With sour cream. Good for a hangover.” No doubt his grandmother was already telling the rest of the family about his new girlfriend. His single status was the source of much consternation at family gatherings, as if he were nearing his expiration date.

He clasped Rosie’s arms. “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you come down to my parents’ house for just a few minutes?” When her jaw dropped, he added, “They’re really old-fashioned. If they think I’ve had a one-night stand, they’ll be so disappointed in me.” Panic forced his rusty brain wheels into motion. “Please, Rosie, just let them think we’re dating for now. Later, I’ll tell them we broke up.”

Rosie nibbled her bottom lip, a distractingly sexy gesture. Finally, she sighed. “Well, I guess I’m partly to blame for this mess. If a few dumplings will get you out of it, I’m game.”

Relief whooshed through him as he slid his hands into hers and squeezed. “Thank you. Half an hour tops, I swear. You won’t be late for your family thing?”

A grimace flickered over her features. “No big deal. I’ll call them.” She patted her tangled hair. “But I would like to clean up first.”

He gestured toward the bathroom. “All yours. Want a Raf coffee?”

“A what now?”

“Russian style. Kick-ass espresso with vanilla and foamed cream.”

“Yes please.”

He poured her a generous cup from the thermos Babka brought, dug out a spare toothbrush and fresh towels, and left her to her ablutions while he plated a serving of Babka’s coffee cake.

She emerged fresh-faced, her heavy eyeliner gone, her scarlet lipstick replaced by pale pink gloss. She’d pulled her hair into a low ponytail, too. He’d never seen her looking so subdued. She’d even tied a scarf around her neck to hide her tattooed cleavage. Shrugging, she gave him a sheepish grin. “Best meet-the-parents look I can do on short notice.”

“You look great,” he assured her. “Coffee cake on the counter. Helps shield your stomach from the coffee. And the vodka.”

She blinked rapidly. “The which?”

“Just one shot.” He grinned before shutting the bathroom door. “Like Babka said, we Volkovs are big on tradition.”

He blasted himself fully awake with the world’s fastest shower, brushed his teeth, and neatened up his almost-beard, all the while rehearsing what he’d say to his family—if Rosie hadn’t already come to her senses and fled. But no, once he dressed in pressed khakis, a button-down shirt, and shiny loafers, he found her standing at the counter, a fork in her hand and her phone to her ear. “Ma, seriously, don’t wait for me. I won’t be long. Just grabbing a coffee with a friend.”

She ended the call and gave him a head-to-toe glance. “Are you going to church?”

He straightened his tie. “Just saving myself a lecture. Russian tradition, gotta wear new clothes on New Year’s Day. I’m not screwing up your plans, am I?”

“Nah. It’s just Mom and me, my sister and her boyfriend. Nice guy, but insecure. Always sucking up to Mom.” She curled her lip and adopted an oily tone. “Oh, Ms. Callas, your spanakopita is divine.”

“Spana— Isn’t that Greek?”

“Yeah. Ma’s family came over from Rhodes.” She shrugged into her coat. “So, your parents live downstairs?”

“Pretty pathetic, huh? Twenty-eight and still living over my parents’ garage.”

She snorted. “Not as pathetic as me. I’m twenty-five and still in my childhood bedroom. I could never afford my own place without a thousand roommates.”

He took her hand. “I really appreciate this. I’ll do my best to block their questions. Like I told Babka, we’re just friends from work.”

Another snort—a very sexy sound, coming from her. “C’mon, Eddie. Your grandma just saw me braless with a huge nest of fuck hair. She knows.” She reached for the door. “Shall we?”

Chapter Two

Rosie followed Eddie down the stairs and across the driveway to a pretty two-story bungalow with river stone pillars on the porch. He opened the side door. “Brace yourself.”

What have I got myself into? She gulped and nodded.

He led her through a yellow-painted kitchen with a strong 1970s vibe, counters loaded with foil trays, Tupperware, and crumpled wrappings. Eddie whistled. “Thought I’d be spared the traditional year-end force-feeding. Looks like they brought the leftovers.”

He tugged her forward. TV sounds and laughter rang out from the next room. Stomach wobbling, she planted her feet. “I don’t know, Eddie. I feel bad lying to your family.”

Grasping her hand in both of his, he whispered, “I said we’re work friends, and that’s what we are.” When she balked, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Half an hour, tops. I promise. A few dumplings, a toast to the new year, and we’re out of here.” The soft brush of his lips did funny things to her core—warm, tickly things. If she had the sense God gave mud, she’d back out now. But Eddie’s grandma already thought Rosie was his girlfriend. What could it hurt to play along for a few minutes more?

She nodded, and Eddie broke into a sweet, crooked smile that made her feel even more guilty. Eddie wasn’t the kind of guy who indulged in meaningless hookups. Should’ve considered that before plastering herself to him on the dance floor last night.

Hand in hand, they entered the dining room. The red and gold floral tablecloth caught her eye—hard to see clearly under the load of dishes and platters. Too bad. Its intricate, old-country design would be a great addition to her sketchbook of tattoo ideas.

Caught in mid-scoop, a petite, fifty-ish woman with Eddie’s dark hair and bright eyes dropped her serving spoon into a cut-glass bowl of potato salad. “Eduard, you brought a friend!” She spread her arms, and Eddie stepped into them and pecked her cheeks—left, right, left.

“Mama, this is my work friend Rosie Chu.”

Mama scrunched her lips to the side, clearly not buying the “work friend” bit, then smiled broadly. “Welcome, Rosie. Happy New Year. S Novim Godom.” She elbowed