Page 44 of Always Salty

I snorted.

Dima said nothing.

And when the lady at the door checked our receipts, Dima placed himself behind me so that the asshole pushing his cart up to my ass couldn’t get any closer.

There were some whispered words, and when next I looked back, that guy had put about eight feet between us.

“People need to learn personal space,” he murmured quietly.

“Absolutely,” I agreed. “I’ve been saying that for years. I liked the time when social distancing was a thing because it allowed me to have six feet of space and no one complained at all.”

But I noticed as we walked that generally, everyone kept their distance.

So the key to people giving you space was obviously to have an intimidating man that looked like he could kill you with a flick of his finger at your side.

He helped me put my groceries into my trunk, then walked to his motorcycle that he’d squeezed between my parking space and the one next to me.

It wasn’t a Harley like my brothers’ bikes. It was a sleek, black, fast-looking number that looked like it could easily go two hundred miles an hour.

I backed out, and he followed suit, following me all the way home.

And let me tell you another benefit of having a tall, capable man at your side.

He could carry in a shit ton of groceries without breaking a sweat and didn’t complain when you took too long checking your mail.

After I had the mail in my hands, we took the stairs up three flights—another thing that he knew about me—him leading the way like he knew I was going to go that way.

Another little niggle at the back of my brain that said that I was being very carefully watched without my knowledge.

But there was a part of me that liked that he knew so much about me.

I liked that I didn’t have to tell him something.

I liked that he already knew that I was a little bit eccentric.

We put everything away except for the sushi, which he brought to the coffee table in my living room.

It was there that he queued up my favorite show and even went to the correct season I’d left off at the last time I’d been able to watch.

He pressed play, pointed at the chair directly in front of the television and said, “Sit. I’ll grab our drinks.”

He came back moments later with two sets of chopsticks, a water for him, and a glass of tea for me.

I took a sip and knew before the brew had hit my tongue that it would be the perfect way that I liked it.

And it was.

The blend of lemon and sweet tea was just how I would’ve made it myself.

I licked my lips when I was done, setting the glass down beside his water, and said, “How long have you been watching me?”

I hit pause on my show as he said, “Want it all?”

I licked my lips, then nodded.

“If I tell you, there’s no going back for me. Once you know…”

Once I knew, I’d have to be quiet about what I heard.

---