Love Him Desperate (On the Market #5) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,14

familiar head of highlighted hair bob along the window. He leaned on the door frame and opened it all the way when Dmitri appeared, a shy, hesitant smile on his face and a paper bag in his hands.

“Jayden texted,” Dmitri said, setting the bag on the edge of the desk.

Raphael frowned at the scent wafting from the top and rested heavy on his crutch as he turned to face the younger man. “Explain?”

“He’s worried you’re going to starve to death during the day, so he asked me to bring you lunch, but then that tour bus broke down, and Wilder and I were snowed under by all those little old ladies,” Dmitri explained. He dragged a hand through his hair—long fingered and graceful in a natural way most people didn’t possess.

Raphael hadn’t gotten to know Dmitri well. He popped in every now and again, but he wasn’t the most social person in the world, and Jayden fiercely guarded his privacy, so Raphael rarely asked about his nephew. He’d turned eighteen the year before, and Raphael thought maybe he’d see more of him, or hell, even see the back of him as he went off to college, but Dmitri instead went to work for Wilder, and kept his head down. He was friendlier now though, and the weight in his eyes made him look far older than he was.

Raphael felt for him. He knew what it was like to feel outside, to feel the weight of everyone’s eyes and expectations. He couldn’t ignore the quiet whispers of the town about him. His parents’ addictions, his juvenile record, his anger issues. Of course, Raphael was not the sort of person who ever bought into rumor, and it was more and more impossible to believe every time he had a conversation with him.

“I hope you aren’t close to starving,” Dmitri said when Raphael didn’t answer him.

Raphael blinked, then felt his cheeks heat. “Lorenzo brought me something when he came in for his facial.” Raphael reached for Jayden’s saddle chair and sat down, his lower half cradled by the deep bicycle-style seat. He propelled himself with the crutch like a gondolier toward the edge of the desk, and he liked that it made Dmitri smile a bit. “Did you want to eat?”

Dmitri rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “I uh…I was just going to have take-out. It’s kind of a thing for me today.”

Raphael lifted a brow. “What kind of day? What is it? Tuesday?”

Dmitri chuckled. “Yeah. It’s Tuesday. It’s also my birthday.”

Raphael, who had reached for his water, choked a little. “It’s what? Isn’t your uncle out of town?”

Dmitri shrugged and scuffed one of his feet across the floor. “Yeah. I told him not to stress about it. I mean, nineteen isn’t like a big day or anything, you know? Last year he bought me a car, and I think that pretty much covers gift-giving for a while.”

Raphael frowned, because Jayden hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and Raphael knew he would have remembered. “But, it’s your birthday.”

“Trust me,” Dmitri said, leaning against the desk, “it always ends in disaster. It’s easier this way.”

“Do you want company?” he offered, because he might not be able to throw a party, but he could at least give him that.

Dmitri winced though, and his cheeks went a little dark with a blush as he let out a tiny sigh.

“Wrong question, I take it?” Raphael asked.

“It’s totally not you.” He walked around the desk and took out Raphael’s rolling chair before sitting in it. “Last year was a shit-show and uh…yeah. I was hoping this year would be better.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Dmitri pulled both of his lips between his teeth and let them out with a slow drag that left them spit-slick and a little plumper than usual. He had been a good-looking kid—what Raphael had seen of him. He’d had a fleeting though that he was going to grow up to be a beautiful man, and he wasn’t wrong. Dmitri had lost the young, baby edges of his body, and there was a hardness to his eyes most men his age didn’t have at nineteen and twenty, but there was still innocence in the way he smiled, and in his dimples, and the tremble of his fingers.

“After Jayden gave me the car last year, I met this guy—tourist, you know? We went on a drive, and he offered to blow me for a birthday gift. God,” he said from behind a breath,