Page 9 of Sweet Dreams

"Yuri? I didn't think you'd actually—oh god, I'm a mess. Hold on—"

"Net, net," Yuri said quickly. "You look... sweet."

Beth paused in her attempt to smooth down her hair. "Sweet? That's a new one. I think the word you're looking for is 'disaster."

Yuri chuckled, then winced as his head throbbed. "Perhaps we are both disasters this morning, da? But at least you smell better, I think."

Beth's laugh was like music. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Minsk. Though I'm not sure smelling like a honey factory is much better than... what is that, vodka and regret?"

"You wound me, moye solnyshko. It is clearly vodka and bad life choices."

"Ah, my mistake," Beth grinned. Then, softer, "I'm glad you called, Yuri. Even if it's at an ungodly hour, and we both look like we've been through a war."

Yuri felt something warm unfurl in his chest. "I'm glad too, Baker Beth. Now, tell me about this medovik. Did you follow the secret step?"

Beth leaned in conspiratorially. "You mean adding a shot of vodka to the batter? Because if so, yes. Yes, I did."

Yuri's eyebrows shot up. "That is not— Who told you to do this?"

"Google," Beth said proudly. "It said it was traditional!"

Yuri couldn't help it. He burst out laughing, ignoring the spike of pain in his skull. "Oh, moye solnyshko. We have much to teach each other, I think."

Yuri felt something shift as they fell into a simple conversation, trading baking disasters and hangover cures. This woman, with her wild hair and her wilder spirit, was dangerous. She made him want things he'd given up on and made him dream of possibilities.

In Stanford, Beth was having similar thoughts. This man, with his accent like warm honey and eyes that crinkled when he laughed, was not what she'd expected. He was so much more.

Neither of them noticed the hours slipping by, lost in their own private world. It wasn't until Beth's oven timer went off that they realized they'd been talking for nearly three hours.

"Oh shoot," Beth said reluctantly. "I've got to go. The bakery awaits."

Yuri nodded, fighting his disappointment. "Of course. Go, create sweet miracles."

Beth hesitated before blurting out, "Can we do this again?"

Yuri's heart leapt. "Da. Yes. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Beth agreed, her smile was radiant. "It's a date. I mean, not a date-date, but... you know what I mean."

"I know," Yuri whispered. "Dosvidaniya, Baker Beth."

"Goodbye, Yuri from Minsk."

As the screen went dark, Yuri leaned back in his chair, a foolish grin on his face. He was in trouble. Deep, sweet trouble.

His phone buzzed. Nik again.

Nik;"So? How are your kidneys?"

Yuri chuckled, typing back:

Yuri:"Intact. But I think I might be losing something else."

In Stanford, Beth hummed as she prepared for the day, her steps light despite her lack of sleep. For the first time since the Keith disaster, she felt a flutter of hope.

Her phone chimed. A message from Kelly:

Kelly:"Well? How's the international manhunt going?"

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