Anton

by Brenda Rothert

  I’m way ahead of myself, and I don’t think my mind would have gone there without seeing that photo. But now, I’m more determined than ever to wait as long as I have to for her to be single.

  I’ve never taken a selfie. I guess I’m too serious for that kind of thing. But for Mia…

  I look from side to side to make sure no one’s looking at me, then snap a quick pic of me smiling. I send it to her with a message.

  Me: Nice! Hope you had a good night off work.

  I leave the locker room and only have one post-game interview to do. After, I call the front desk of my building and ask to have dinner delivered to my apartment. When I get there, the doorman tells me Uncle Dix just watched Jeopardy and napped all evening.

  I help Uncle Dix to bed and sit down to eat dinner, listening to a voicemail I got earlier.

  “Mr. Petrov, it’s Linda from the nursing agency. I’m sorry, but we can’t help. I can’t keep sending nurses to a job site where they’re sexually harassed. It’s a liability—for you and for us. I hope you understand. Good luck with your uncle.”

  I rub my forehead, tension settling into my shoulders once again.

  Luck? I need a fucking miracle to solve my Uncle Dix issues.

  Or maybe I just need to think outside the box. He doesn’t actually have medical issues that require a nurse; I just hire nurses in case something requiring medical care happens.

  All I really need is a babysitter, like what the doormen are doing for me. Someone to keep him in line, help him out when he needs it and make sure he’s safe.

  I set down my fork and sit back in my chair. A babysitter. Someone I’d pay extremely well. This could solve two problems at once.

  Why didn’t I think of it before?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mia

  * * *

  Anton gives his uncle a wary look before introducing us.

  “This is my uncle, Jerry Dixon, but everyone calls him Dix. And Uncle Dix, this is Mia. You either treat her right or I’m putting you out to pasture.”

  Dix grunts in response to Anton and then turns to me.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mia. Hopefully you have more respect for the elderly than my nephew does.”

  “I told her about you,” Anton says.

  “Lies, all lies.” Dix waves a hand in response.

  He’s thin and wrinkled, a few lonely white hairs combed back on his scalp. I’m pretty sure Anton was exaggerating about how insufferable he is—Dix seems like a nice old man who probably just wants some company.

  “Call or text if you have any problems,” Anton tells me.

  “We’ll be fine.”

  He gave me a tour of the apartment when I got here at 5:30 a.m., before Dix was awake. After getting ready to leave for practice, he helped his uncle to the bathroom and into his favorite recliner.

  I couldn’t say no to Anton’s job offer. He’s paying me almost three times what I made bartending, even with tips. The money will allow me to help Anita and also save money for a divorce, though that’s going to take a while.

  But still. I have hope now. I can keep going to school, too. And all I have to do is take care of Anton’s uncle, who’s slow moving due to a couple strokes he’s had and cranky when he doesn’t get his way. It requires some overnight stays when Anton is traveling, but he said I can bring Dre to his apartment with me anytime.

  I already know that this will be a much better situation than the similar job I had when I was a teen. I talked to my grandpa when Anton made me the offer, and though he didn’t know who I was, he said it sounded like a good thing.

  Anton gives Dix a warning look as he grabs his gym bag.

  “We’ll be fine,” I repeat. “Have a good workout and practice.”

  He finally leaves, and I take a deep breath as I look around his apartment. It’s spectacular—dark hardwood floors, lots of space and walls of windows overlooking the lake. The furniture is all dark leather and the walls are plain white, but there is a bookcase. I take in the books in English and Russian, and several framed photos, which give his place a little more character.

  He and Alexei are smiling little boys in one picture, an ice rink in the background. Anton’s hair was a lighter blond as a boy. The way he has his arm around his brother tugs at my heart—there’s love and pride in his tight hold.

  “Ready for some breakfast?” I ask Dix. “Anton said you like oatmeal.”

  “I like bacon and eggs better.”

  “I can do that.” I move into the kitchen and take a package of bacon out of the fridge.

  Dix looks surprised. “I like you.”

  “I like you, too,” I say, laughing. “And what about dinner? Any requests? Anton didn’t tell me to make it, but I think I’ll order some groceries from that place he has an account with and make something for you both.”

  “Fried chicken,” Dix says.

  “Oh, my grandma made the best fried chicken.”

  “Nothing compares to homemade fried chicken. I’ll take that and potatoes and gravy.” Dix reaches down to pull his blanket up to his lap. “And a six pack of cold beer. Not the cheap shit.”

  “I’m thinking Anton won’t care for this idea. He said you’re supposed to be on a heart healthy diet.”

  “You know what makes a man’s heart healthy?” Dix says sharply. “Happiness.”

  “Bacon’s your source of happiness for today. I’ll make salmon for dinner.”

  Dix makes a sound of disgust. “Gross. That shit smells like a dirty pussy.”

  My lips part with amusement and surprise. So this is what Anton meant. But I’m a Southside girl—I’m not easily offended.

  “I’ll make some steamed veggies to go with the dirty pussy, sound good?” I say with a grin.

  Dix is taken aback. He mumbles something about doing whatever I want and focuses on his TV show.

  I check out Anton’s kitchen as I wait for the bacon to cook. He has lots of cooking stuff and it’s all super organized. His refrigerator is loaded with fruits and veggies, all of the labels turned to face forward.

  Wow. I have one tiny bedroom to keep straight, and it’s sure as hell messier than Anton’s kitchen. But in my defense, I don’t have a cleaning person who comes in weekly like he does.

  “Breakfast is ready,” I call over my shoulder as I pour two glasses of orange juice for me and Dix.

  “My TV tray is right here.”

  I look over and see he’s pointing to a folded-up tray leaning against the wall. I frown at it. My grandma always had a rule against eating meals in front of the TV.

  “Nonsense,” I say. “Come sit with me and enjoy this fantastic view. We can get to know each other better.”

  I walk over and push his wheelchair next to his recliner, putting the brake on so I can help him out of the chair. He’s scowling up at me from beneath his afghan.

  “I’ll eat right here, got it? I’m not missing these fools on Let’s Make A Deal just so I can listen to you go on and on about your favorite hairstyles.”

  “Come on, Dix. I made you a nice breakfast; let’s sit together and eat.”

  “Piss on that.” He waves a hand. “I’m not getting out of my chair.”

  I shrug. “Have it your way.”

  I walk back to the table in the kitchen and sit down, adding some pepper to my eggs. The apartment is an open-floor plan, so Dix can see me.

  “Are you special?” he barks. “Bring me my plate before it gets cold.”

  “Mmm, this bacon is perfect. If you’re not gonna come over here and eat, can I have yours, too?”

  “Who said I’m not eating! You’re getting paid to cook my breakfast, so bring it over here, you dimwit.”

  I set down my piece of bacon and meet his surly gaze. “Actually, I’m only getting paid to make sure you don’t get hurt or into trouble. This,” I gesture at the food on the table, “was just me being nice. And I’m not nice to people who call me names. You can just wait for lunch.”

  Reachi
ng across the table, I move his plate over next to mine and grab a piece of bacon from it.

  Dix howls. It’s all I can do to keep a straight face.

  “That’s my bacon, you bitch! Put that down!”

  “This is the good stuff,” I say, taking another big bite. “I’ve never had such delicious bacon.”

  “I’m telling Anton about this,” Dix huffs.

  “Please do. Did I mention you’re having tuna and veggies for lunch while I have a gooey grilled cheese? We’ll start fresh tomorrow and if you don’t call me any names, you can join me for bacon and eggs then.”

  “You hag! You’re not even a real nurse!”

  “Never said I was.”

  “Hell of a note, treating an old man this way.”

  I give him a pointed look. “Hell of a note, calling a woman who cooked you the breakfast you asked for a bitch.”

  He grumbles that he’s not hungry anyway and I go back to eating the bacon. For the rest of the day, he doesn’t speak to me unless he needs help going to the bathroom.

  I’m fine with that. I study in silence, and actually get a lot done.

  My grandma used to say, “Ain’t no man got a right to disrespect you, Mia. Not ever.” I grew up believing that, and I’ve never been afraid to push back against anyone treating me like shit. Anyone except Adam.

  For whatever reason, coming from my husband, the criticism cut deep and made me ask what I’d done to deserve it.

  You don’t have the face for that haircut.

  Have you put on weight?

  You probably can’t get pregnant because you don’t eat well enough.

  How the fuck am I supposed to be turned on when you’re wearing that?

  I never pushed back. I let the shame wash over me and I stayed silent.

  Never, ever again. He may be holding me hostage over my grandpa’s care, but I will never let a man cut me down again.

  Dix may have scared away the other nurses, but he’s the one in for a rude awakening this time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Anton

  * * *

  My teammate Knox looks from side to side, making sure we’re alone in the weight room before he leans in to say something.

  “Hey, you heard anything about Adam and his wife splitting?”

  My pulse speeds up slightly, but I don’t let it show. “Uh-uh, why?”

  “Someone in the front office told Dmitri’s wife they called Mia and asked if she wanted to hand out gifts with the wives at the charity thing this year and she said no because she and Adam aren’t together anymore.”

  I finish my last rep and drop the bar to the floor. “So what?”

  Knox shrugs. “She’s smokin’ hot. How long do you think I’d need to wait before making a move?”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “What? It’s not like Adam’s all broken up about it.”

  “I said don’t go there.” My tone is sharper than I intended, but I can’t hide the flare of possessiveness I feel for Mia.

  Not that I have any right—she’s not mine, and she may never be. But no way am I putting up with a manwhore like Knox going after her.

  I’ve been on autopilot all day—going through the motions of practice and working out while my mind’s on Mia.

  She’s in my apartment right now. Walking around my kitchen and sitting on my sofa. I wish I was there with her.

  When I made her the job offer, I was honest about what she’d be getting into. I told her how many nurses had quit. She accepted it, though, and I was pretty stoked. I put the Uber app on her phone and linked it to my bank account, telling her rides to and from my place are included.

  I love my family, and I’d spend my last dime taking care of any one of them if they needed it. But with Mia, I find myself wanting to take care of her in a different way for the first time ever.

  I want her to be warm when it’s cold outside. Well fed. Comfortable. Happy. I want to be the person who gives her all those things while making her smile day in and day out. Actually, I want to make her do a lot more than just smile, but I have to start somewhere since she’s technically still married.

  Uncle Dix better not be an asshole to Mia. I know the chances are slim that he’s behaving himself, though. When I wheeled him into the living room this morning and he saw her in the kitchen, he whistled under his breath and asked me if he could “get chocolate milk from those titties”. I just about lost my shit on him.

  It’s not like me to cut out early from my post-practice workouts, but today, I do. I have to get home and see how things are going. When I get back to my building and step off the elevator, I approach my apartment door and take a deep breath, preparing myself.

  The apartment is quiet when I walk inside—either a great sign or an awful one.

  “Hey, guys,” I call out tentatively.

  “Hey, we’re in here,” Mia calls.

  I drop my keys and equipment bag by the door and walk into the living room, where afternoon sun is streaming through the windows. Uncle Dix is sitting in his recliner watching Jeopardy with a sour look on his face. Mia’s sitting in a corner of the couch, reading a textbook.

  “How’d it go?” I ask Mia.

  “Like shit,” Dix snaps before she can answer. “She’s starving me!”

  Mia smiles up at me from the couch. “It was great. A quiet day, mostly.”

  “Quiet?” I arch my brows in surprise.

  “Yep. Oh, and I prepped some foil packets of salmon and veggies for you guys to have for dinner.”

  She gets up from the couch and gathers her textbooks from one of the cushions.

  “Here, I’ve got it,” I say, taking the stack. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

  “I told Anita I’d make dinner at home, but thanks for the invite.”

  “Bet you’re not making any smelly pussy,” Dix grumbles.

  I shake my head. “Ignore him.”

  “He can be really nice,” Mia looks over at him, “when he wants to.”

  “I have yet to see him want to.” I walk across the room and set the books on the kitchen table. Mia loads them into her backpack, one at a time.

  “So you need me here at five tomorrow morning, right? And you’ll be back Wednesday afternoon?”

  “Right.”

  She opens her mouth to say something, but hesitates.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “I take care of Dre on Tuesday nights. Is it okay if I send an Uber for Anita to bring him here and then pick him up to go home?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  She smiles at me, and I swear I feel my fucking body temperature start to rise.

  “How old is Dre?” I ask her.

  “Four.”

  “We should, uh…have some toys delivered for him. To play with when he’s here.”

  She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about that. He loves playing with pots and pans and laundry baskets. I’ll keep him busy.”

  “I’ll just have a few things brought by. Maybe a nice toy drum set. Uncle Dix would love that.” I wink at her and she laughs.

  “That’s really sweet of you, Anton.”

  I’m so fucking hooked on the way she says my name. More emphasis on the An- than the -ton.

  Christ. I’m like a teenage boy with a raging crush. It’s a good thing no one can tell what I’m thinking.

  Mia meets my gaze and smiles again, then takes a step closer and wraps her arms around me in a hug.

  “Thanks,” she says softly. “I’m really grateful for this job.”

  She’s in my arms. Mia Marceau is in my fucking arms right now. She’s soft and warm and she smells like sunshine and coconut. I can’t even speak.

  “Uh…” I manage.

  My cock is more than willing to communicate for me. I can’t control the immediate hard-on I get from Mia’s closeness.

  And, of course, she notices. Fuck me. She steps back suddenly, eyes wide.

  “Uh…I’
m sorry about that,” I say. “It’s just, uh…you know, long-term celibacy and all…”

  “Oh. How long term?”

  “Um…more than two years.”

  Her lips part with surprise. “You? Why?” She cringes. “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Is it…” She lowers her voice. “I mean, you can, right?”

  I curl my lips up, grinning at her hush-hush tone. “I think you can see I have no problems there.”

  Mia glances at my crotch, then cringes, embarrassed. “Geez…sorry.”

  I’m not. She’s the only woman in the world I want looking at me this way. Her eyes dart up to mine and I get lost in their gold-flecked depths.

  “You know,” she says, her voice almost a whisper. “If I weren’t…” Her words trail away, but I’m rock hard again just knowing she’d think of me this way.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  After a few seconds, she breaks my gaze and clears her throat. “Can I ask…why?”

  “Why…”

  “Why more than two years?”

  “Oh.” I glance down at the ground, then back to her eyes. “You.”

  Her eyes widen. “Me?”

  “Yeah, I saw you and…yeah.” I look away. “I tried to date other women, but…it didn’t work.”

  Mia’s eyes are the shade of melted caramel as they fill with tears. “I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever…I wish…”

  She blinks and the tears slide down her cheeks, knifing my heart.

  “It’s okay. Don’t cry, Mia.”

  I fight my urge to take her back into my arms and comfort her. It’s all I want—to feel her body against mine like I just did for a few brief, incredible seconds.

  “They aren’t sad tears.” She smiles at me.

  Sad or not, seeing her cry is shredding me. I want her to put her backpack down and stay. For dinner, for the night…forever.

  “See you in the morning.” She grabs her coat and goes to the door.

  I follow her and hold the door open. “I’ll have coffee waiting.”