Whiskey Sharp: Jagged. Lauren Dane

right. But don’t expect me to take it easy on you tomorrow on our hike.”

      “I’d never expect anything less. Now go lose some money to my father and I’ll get you some tea and me some vodka.”

       CHAPTER SIX

      HE KEPT AN eye on her—and her ass—as she climbed the trail ahead of him. Her hair pulled into two short little pigtails, sleek gear clinging to her figure. A strong, fit figure.

      Out here she tended to move with measured confidence. He found it sexy that she knew what she was doing. Her strength and skill made it possible to enjoy the hike the way he did when he was out with his buddies in his hiking crew.

      She didn’t need taking care of. Didn’t want it certainly. Out here she was in her element as much as he was. Another sexy thing.

      It was cold but mostly clear, though he got the feeling she’d have been okay in the rain too. And when they got to the top of the trail where they’d be turning to head back, she pulled out a thermos. “Want some coffee?”

      He sat on a log and patted the space next to him. “I do. I propose to trade cookies in exchange.”

      “You’re handy to have around, Orlov.”

      He pulled the cookies out while she poured them both a cup of coffee.

      “Did you make these?” She indicated the cookie she nibbled on.

      “Fresh yesterday morning. I set some by for this hike. I know your secret.”

      She turned, a question on her face.

      “You have a sweet tooth. Just know I’ll happily seduce you with whatever tools I have in my arsenal.”

      Laughing, she stole another cookie from the bag on his lap.

      “Have you loved baking since forever? I imagine growing up in the family business it’s easier that way. Were they bakers back in Russia?”

      “My mother was a nursery school teacher. My dad worked in a factory. They came here in the early ’80s and they started the bakery on little more than a hope and a prayer and a Russian community here in Seattle hungry for a taste of home. We grew up in the bakery, but I didn’t always want to run the business.”

      Life sometimes just happened to you. She’d know that better than most.

      “So, what happened, if you don’t mind saying?” she asked.

      “At one time I had planned to be a cop.”

      One of her brows went up. “And yet you make the best bread I’ve ever eaten in my life. You have a lot of talents, Vic.”

      He laughed. “That’s how I know Seth. I’ve been volunteer search and rescue for the county. My team and I were helping some King County Sheriff’s officers find a kid who’d run away from a campsite. There was some Seattle PD crossover and he was there to help when we brought the boy back. Cristian came by with Alexsei and they met.”

      “Aw, I love that story. What changed it? I mean from sheriff wannabe to baker? Family expectations?”

      He took a deep breath. “You know we had an older brother who died. Danil. We don’t often talk about the how. Anyway, he was supposed to take over for our parents. So I worked there part-time but mainly stepped out of his way. But he was troubled. Sick. Addicted. As he began to fray, it got more and more obvious I’d have to step in full-time.”

      The pain of the memories rolled through him. Held back a little by the distance of time.

      She took his hand. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”

      It wasn’t his shame. But it sure was his pain.

      “He robbed a store. For drug money. And got caught. He went to jail. Which was good in that he got clean. But then he was released and he wasn’t clean. Not really.”

      She put her head on his shoulder.

      “He overdosed before trial. My parents...they fell apart. They were ashamed and felt guilty and responsible. My aunt did all she could. People worked overtime to shoulder the load, but it was necessary for me to commit to running the bakery full-time. Danil was supposed to do it. It was supposed to be his place. But I’m doing it.”

      “I’m sorry. What a tragic situation.”

      He sighed. “When we were kids he was my protector. Always the life of the party. I guess that should have been a clue. He just didn’t know when to stop. And it killed him and nearly destroyed the family.”

      But in the end, it had given Vic a future he’d never imagined. And he’d been part of keeping the family together. He’d learned a lot about himself. About what family truly meant.

      “Your parents aren’t the only ones with survivor’s guilt.” A statement.

      Vic looked at her carefully. It was cold enough that their breath misted around their faces. The scent of the coffee mixed with the pungent evergreens still lush even in winter.

      “That sounds like you might know a thing or two about it,” he said.

      It wasn’t that she never spoke of her experience. He knew the basics. But it never went very deep. He never pressed and she never offered. Until then.

      “I know what it means to understand one thing and occasionally feel another. I know what it feels like to second-guess every choice. And what it feels like to know some of those choices were bad ones. Did you go to therapy at all?”

      “The whole family did a few sessions. Evie had a lot of trouble in school for a while. It happened during her senior year of high school. My parents are very skeptical of therapy in general, but they did agree to attend a few sessions. I wish they’d done more, but they were so reluctant and after a while it turned into a fight every time. And you know, I’d had enough fighting with them. I just wanted them to be happy and be able to get past his death.”

      Rachel nodded. “I understand.”

      He got the feeling she really did. And something inside him that had been knotted loosened just a little.

      “I’m glad, by the way, that I made the choices I did. I enjoy the bakery. I love that it’s a family business and that despite the bickering, we’re all working toward the same goal. I love to see my aunt and my cousins pretty much daily.”

      “And it means you bring bread to me. Which is always a plus as far as I’m concerned. And if I fall into a crevasse you can save me.”

      He laughed, standing to brush off his butt and begin to put away their impromptu snack. “I will always save you from a crevasse. Not that there are any close. But if we climb Rainier or something, I’ve got you covered.”

      She got her pack secured and gave him a face. “That was just talk. I don’t go near crevasses. I love hiking and biking and kayaking and that sort of thing. I don’t go ice camping or do any sort of extreme climbing.”

      “I’m sure you’d be really good at it, though.”

      “Maybe. But I’ve done enough time in hospitals so I try to avoid more.”

      He kissed the top of her head. “I’m on board with that.”

      “Thank you for trusting me enough to share that story. I’m sorry for all of you. But I’m glad you all had one another to get through,” she said.

      “I learned a lot about who I was and who I could be if I tried harder,” he said as he took her hand.

      They walked side by side for a while until the trail narrowed and they had to move single file.

      “Valentine’s Day is coming up.”

      She gave him a glance over her shoulder as she