I’m thankful I’m not facing my parents so they can’t see the blush lighting up my face.
“Lock it up.”
I jump, not realizing Pandora walked into the room. She’s eating a piece of bacon while her eyes narrow on me.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I glare back at her, handing her a to-go plate she can eat in the car on her way to school.
“I’m watching you,” she mouths, and I have to bite back my retort: so what’s new? She takes the plate from me before going over to my parents and telling them goodbye. She throws her hand up in a wave on the way out.
“Did she forget to finish something?” my mom asks me, and I nod.
Dad chuckles. They can’t really get mad at her. She might not like school, but she’s always pulled straight A’s. We both do, even at one of the toughest private schools in the country.
Since we’re both great in school and don’t give them too much grief, our parents are pretty good about giving us free rein as long as we keep a guard with us. Rules loosened up a lot since we turned eighteen. And then when Pandora punched Ethan, a boy at prom who tried to kiss me, that gained us some more freedom. I cringe at the memory.
I bet Ivan could take a punch and not even care. He doesn’t seem like he would run scared after like Ethan did. He was a nice enough boy, but I wasn’t ready for how handsy he was getting, and Pandora knew right away. Then I start to wonder what it would be like if it were Ivan making the same moves...
“We’ll be a little late tonight, honey,” Mom says, shaking me out of my fantasy. She comes around and puts her dish in the sink. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“Will you be home in time for dinner?”
“Don’t you have finals to study for?” she asks as my dad comes to stand behind her. He wraps an arm around her, and she melts into him.
“Yeah, but cooking always helps me relax,” I remind her. I know they always feel a little guilty that I cook for everyone, but I love it. It’s one of my favorite things to do. That’s why Pandora knew I would get out of bed this morning to make her something to eat.
“You know I can’t turn down your cooking.” Mom leans in and gives me another kiss. “Do me a favor, Penelope, and don’t be hard on the new guy.” She levels me with a stare.
“Who, me?” I bat my lashes, which makes my dad laugh.
“I wonder where she got this thing for ditching her guards,” Dad says right before Mom elbows him. My dad fakes like he’s hurt. “You’re going to kiss that later.”
“Okay, you two need to go to work,” I say, handing them their lunches. I don’t want to hear their flirting. Dad gives me a hug and another kiss on the head before leaving the kitchen. I smile as they depart, and then I turn around to make my own plate.
I grab my phone and start up some music on it. After I find a song I like, I start dancing a little as I take a few bites of my food. I look around the kitchen to make sure I have stuff to make tacos for dinner tonight, wondering when Ivan will get here. As soon as the thought pops into my head, I turn around and freeze when I see him standing in the backyard, staring at me.
My breath catches as our eyes meet. Today he’s in black slacks and a buttoned-up white collared shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, and I can see a bit more of his tattoos today. There’s still so much of him that’s hidden, but I think that’s part of the attraction.
I can’t pull my eyes from him as he starts to move towards me. I’m rooted in place as his long, thick legs eat up the distance between us. He stops at the glass doors that line the far wall of our kitchen, then he slides the door open and lets himself right in.
I lick my lips as he closes it and leans up against it. His eyes never leave mine, and he doesn’t utter a word. I don’t know how long we stand there until I’m finally able to pull enough air into my lungs to say something.
“Hungry?” I nod to the food that’s sitting on the kitchen counter. It’s not normal for us to have leftovers, but everyone seemed to be in a hurry this morning, so there’s plenty for him.
“You’d feed me?” Ivan asks, his dark eyebrows pulling together as if he’s confused. It’s then I hear an accent that I think is Russian. His voice is seriously deep. Deeper than any voice I’ve ever heard before.
“It’s kinda my thing. I feed people around here,” I tease, finding a little more of my voice again. Jesus, what is wrong with me? I’m never tongue-tied when I’m around guys, but Ivan is different. He’s head to toe man, and this instant attraction is something I’ve never experienced before.