Love Him Desperate (On the Market #5) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,45

eye and smiled. Rian saw the same things in Dmitri that Raphael did—the sorry, pathetic man who would never be brave enough, but was maybe worth caring about anyway. In Rian, he didn’t mind that friendship. It didn’t leave him aching and hollow the way it did with Raphael.

“Hey.”

Dmitri glanced up from the mixing bowl to see Lorenzo watching him with his arms folded, and he realized they were alone in the kitchen. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

With an easy grin, Lorenzo shook his head and leaned against the counter. “I’m going to finish up the books before I meet Wilder for dinner. Theo already took off, but I can call someone in if you want help?”

Dmitri shook his head. “I’m good. This part I can do. Tell Wilder I’ll toss the batches I get done in the walk-in.”

Lorenzo nodded and started away, but he hesitated. “My brother and Simon are coming into town for Simon’s birthday. You should come to the dinner.”

Dmitri’s cheeks flushed, and he shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Raphael’s coming,” Lorenzo said, and there was something in his tone Dmitri couldn’t quite read—or more accurately, didn’t want to. He was tired of false hope. All the same, he knew what Lorenzo wasn’t saying.

“I’m sure I’ll be there.” A concession, which was enough to pacify the other man.

Giving the counter a quick double pat, Lorenzo headed to the office, and ten minutes later Dmitri heard the back door shut and lock. His shoulders lost some of their tension now that he was alone, and he heaved the mixing bowl over to the counter where he began to meticulously scoop and pour until all the trays were filled.

He didn’t enjoy this job more, but he appreciated the routine of it when things felt off kilter or overwhelming. Knowing what to do, relying on muscle memory instead of needing to think, allowed him to breathe a bit better. Life was changing, but he didn’t need to bow under the pressure of it.

Just as the oven beeped to let him know it had reached temp, there was a soft rapping at the back door, and Dmitri didn’t even need to check the security cameras to know who it was. He slipped the trays in, then set the timer before hustling down the corridor and turning the knob.

Raphael was there, leaning on his crutches with a paper bag dangling from his teeth, and Dmitri took it as he stepped aside for the other man to enter. “It smells so good in here. I hope you have something to feed me.”

Dmitri frowned, following him back into the kitchen. Raphael wasn’t particularly a fan of sweets—his diet was incredibly specific and very low in sugar. Wilder usually kept at least two flavors of sugar and gluten free for him on hand, but Raphael rarely ate them. Sugar cravings usually meant stress for Raphael though, and Dmitri let out a tiny sigh as he laid the bag on the supply table.

“Are you here to talk about it or eat your feelings?”

Raphael lifted a brow at him. “I’m here to bring my very good friend some dinner because I haven’t seen him in nearly a week and he’s not having cupcakes to sustain him.”

Dmitri sagged forward a little, then pulled open the bag. Familiar scents from Levi’s restaurant floated out, and it warmed him slightly. The Rebel Rugelach was still around, but now that Shalom had opened its doors, people spent more time there. It was hard to pass up the waterfront views and the quiet atmosphere, and Levi’s food had always drawn crowds.

But Dmitri rarely had time or money to indulge, and his mouth watered now at the sight of the two plastic containers filled with rice and chicken. “Shawarma?”

“There’s falafel in there too,” Raphael said, digging around in one of the drawers. He produced two forks, then leaned on one crutch as he dragged a stool over to sit as Dmitri cocked his hip up against the counter. “So, you eat, and then you tell me everything.”

Dmitri pried the lid off and took a whiff of the rich spices before looking at his friend. “There’s literally nothing to tell.”

“University for the first time,” Raphael started, but Dmitri scoffed.

“It’s community college.”

“I don’t know why you insist on that. What’s the word,” Raphael said, his brow furrowed. Dmitri noticed he looked tired, and a little far off, which meant he might have seized—or might be close to it. Worry gripped him, but he knew Raphael wouldn’t appreciate him fussing. “You