Page 15 of Inked Adonis

Grams shakes her head at me. “You’re nothing like your father.”

“Amen to that.” The closest I want to get is sharing half his DNA.

She giggles and points to the menu. “Get me the salmon if the waitress comes over. I’m gonna use the restroom.”

The moment Grams disappears into the restroom, I lunge for my phone. Samuil’s name on my screen sends a rush of endorphins straight to my lizard brain. It’s been six days of texting, and the high only gets stronger.

There’s flirty stuff sprinkled into the mix, but mostly, Samuil wants to know about me. Shocker of all shockers: it’s almost as if he’s genuinely interested in getting to know who I am as a person.

SAMUIL:Which horny little mutt are you walking today?

NOVA:None actually. It’s my day off.

SAMUIL:And you waited until now to tell me?

I glance towards the bathroom, but there’s no sign of Grams yet.

SAMUIL:If you don’t tell me when you’re off, I’m forced to extend a last-minute lunch invitation. I’ll do it, but it makes me look like a man without a plan. Lucky for you, Chez Andre always reserves a table for me. I can meet you there in an hour.

The phone nearly falls out of my hand. I fumble around to save it before it crashes to the floor. Reading the message again doesn’t make it feel any more real.

He’s asking me out.

Samuil. Litvinov. Asked. Me. Out!

In front of God and the pair of elderly hens in the far corner with eyesight so bad they thought I was their six-foot-tall male nurse when I first arrived, I do a wriggly little happy dance like the live fish that I am.

Reality crashes back when I spot Grams making her way toward our table. If she was anyone else, I’d leave skid marks getting to Chez Andre. I’d body-check the Pope to get to this lunch.

But I can’t leave Grams.

I flip the camera around and take a quick snapshot of the paper menu in front of me and send it to him with my reply.

NOVA:Can’t today. I’m having lunch with my grandmother. I think I’m gonna go with the mashed potato delight. I hear it’s easier on the ol’ dentures.

Mentioning Grams in a text is a big step. It opens the door to the “What’s your family like?”conversation. At which point, I’llhave to say, “Absolute shitheads. Everyone except Grams.”Not exactly an easy, breezy first date topic.

SAMUIL:I’ll catch you some other time then.

My stomach dips. I’m really not sure what I was expecting but his answer feels a little… lackluster?

Like he didn’t really care if I accepted or not.

Like maybe I was just one of many names in his little black book and he can now move on to the next.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” Grams asks, slipping back into the chair opposite mine.

I swallow the uncomfortable lump in my throat. “Of course.”

“You look blue. Is someone making my girl blue?” She raises a trembling fist in the air like she’s ready to go into the ring for me. “Point ‘em out to me, darlin’, and lemme at ‘em.”

If I knew who Samuil was going to be sitting across from at Chez Andre tonight instead of me, I’d aim Grams right at them. Probably some tall, willowy blonde who never smells like wet dog. Grams would take them out in three hits.

But I just shake my head. “You’re the best. Did you know that?”

“Don’t I know it? I’ve heard it all in my day.” She waves me off with a little blush. “Now, about lunch—I was going to go with the mashed potato delight, but I’m feeling daring. I might order tater tots instead.”

“I told you you’re still young and vibrant, Grams. Tater tots are a young person’s game.”

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