Page 89 of Team Russian

“I’ve never seen her like that, you worked your charm indeed,” I conceded. “What did you talk about with Dad?” I cut to the chase.

“I was just direct with him. I told him I knew he knew that I had trust issues, but I was working on it and that you were trustworthy, the problem was mine,” he said.

I leaned closer so I could put my hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, that’s sweet.”

“It’s true,” he said, with a shrug. “Of course I told your Dad that I was an exceptional catch as well, and his daughter was very lucky ...”

I playfully hit his shoulder and he continued.

“I told him we had so much in common and were supportive of each other and our lifestyles and careers, and that I wish I had met you years ago,” he finished.

“Really?” I said, my voice soft and full of gratitude. “And you couldn’t even tell him you saved my life because I banned you from it, but I’m grateful for it.”

“There’s a way you can pay me back,” he said, his face serious.

“Does it involve my tongue?” I teased.

“You’re smart, too, Brooker, that’s what I like about you.”

I laughed and thought about his words ... how we were alike, and I agreed.

“We do have a lot in common,” I started. “For example, we’re both tall, both play in forward position, both play for ‘S’ teams – Saints and Suns, both like the gym and the beach, need our exercise ...”

The Russian agreed. “Both gorgeous, and good in bed,” he added.

“That we are,” I agreed, teasing him. “What time is your training?”

“Five o’clock,” he answered. “I’m sure we can fit in a bed workout beforehand.”

“I’m counting on it,” I told him.

We drove along in comfortable silence for a while, and then The Russian broached the topic.

“Were you close to your sister?”

I shook my head. “We were at an age that didn’t make us close; I was thirteen, probably a pest, wanting to be her and wear make-up and clothes like Claudia had in her wardrobe. She was sixteen and wanted her privacy. She was close to Mom, I was close to Dad. But I wish I had her around now though, I miss her and the relationship we could have had.”

The Russian nodded. “I would have loved a brother, not that I don’t love my sisters, but at least playing in a team has given me plenty of team brothers. So, is that why you don’t like to go home ... because of the memories?”

“No,” I said, being honest with him. “Claudia and I were two teenagers living in the same house who barely knew each other. We were absorbed in our own young lives – schools, friends, etc. I don’t go back because I hate the shrine. I hate the fact that Mom can’t be close to me for her own reasons and that Dad has to be too close and clingy. I can’t breathe there.” I said, my hand involuntarily going to my chest.

The Russian reached out and took my hand in his. He kissed it and held it against his chest. I loved that man.