“It’s nice to meet you. ‘Mute’ has been all quiet on the western front where you’re concerned,” Dmitri mocks, his accent purely American.
Not a hint of their home to the words.
Huh.
So, maybe he was born in the US?
Is he…
The kid with the Yankees cap!
Now that I’ve put a name to the face, I can see it in the smiling eyes and the cocky smirk.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”Whatare you? That’s my real question. Aside from rude, that is.
Who calls a mute person, ‘Mute?’
“He’s a pain in my ass.”
I hide a smile at the words Nikolai signs—I knew it.Affection. No anger so that must be a sucky nickname?
“Nikolai is my father.”
My brows go for a hike. “You have a son?”
I can’t see behind his shades, so I don’t know what’s going on with his eyes. “You’re looking at him.”
“You were young when you…” I clear my throat and, spying Dmitri’s amusement, mutter, “I mean, you’re in your mid-twenties, surely?”
“I am,” Dmitri agrees. “Unfortunately, I had a sperm donor before Nikolai.”
“Oh!” I glower at him. “Would it have been so difficult to clarify that?”
Nikolai waves a dismissive hand that makes me want to throw the lemonade at his head. “I knew Dmitri would explain.”
“Yes, Dmitri’s Nikolai’s voice box,” the man himself mocks, but he peers over his shades as he does so. “I was starting to think he’d never let you out of his bedroom.”
“Me too,” I mumble, shooting Nikolai a dour look.
Dmitri angles his head and I know he’s studying me. I’d say he was checking me out, but it’s less creepy and more like a doctor’s once-over.
I have no idea why I defend Nikolai by saying, “The only part of me that’s bruised is my pride.”
Dmitri blinks. “Niko’s good at that.”
Niko.
Well, my ovaries just fluttered.
Nee-koh.
Yum.
I’m not the only one who abbreviates it, then. Dmitri says it with a slight accent, though, and it’s much hotter than my Americanized version.
I’ll need to practice the Russian intonation.
“He is?” I ask when I realize my mind definitely went for a walk. “Good at bruising people’s pride, I mean?”