A Russian Rose Ch. 01

It was Friday night. He always came to the Diner on Friday night.

He always sat in either one of two places, but both places were always within my allotment of tables that I was responsible for as a server within the Diner. It was no secret in a small town like Saloosa that Caleb Branigan was interested in me.

But even as he was interested it was also abundantly clear that he was not going to be the first one to make a move. He was different in that way from what many men would have done.

He said little, but it was clear what he wanted. He wanted me.

Most men would have openly pursued a woman they were interested in, but not Caleb. He was like a rock that didn't budge.

You came to him. In many ways I respected him, especially as to how he never treated me as anything less than a lady.

If he only knew, though. If anyone in this town came to know my past life in Russia everything would be different and nobody would treat me the same ever again.

It was a daily reality that I prepared for or at least tried to. One day - one day this content happy little life that I had built for myself in America would be over.

It could happen at any time and as such I had to be vigilant, especially if I wanted to survive. Almost above all other things that could be said about me was that I was indeed a survivor.

Whatever the future held I would either survive through it or die trying. Armed with that renewed confidence of my will to overcome the odds stacked against me, I approached with menu in hand the man whom I found above all others in town to be the most unsettling to be around.

Even as I respected the man that Caleb was I also feared him. He was the local sheriff.

And as such he was the man most apt to end my highly illegal stay in the United States of America. I had no passport, no visa, and Sonya Sotaran was not my real name.

Everything about me was a lie from the stories I told of my past to those interested to the falsified documents that I had paid several months' wages to a seedy individual just to get the starting basis of an identity. That said I had never had the guts to apply for a driver's license.

I didn't want my picture in any databases anyway, but the absence of one sorely limited my existence. Living the life of lies that I did where I had almost fabricated everything about myself I in turn intensely hated it.

It was not my nature to be a liar. I hated lies.

I was dead though if I didn't lie. The problem though with a man like Caleb was that he could see right through a lie. He had a presence about him that always made me feel as if he already knew everything about me.

As a man I knew him to be entirely honorable and truly no better man could fill the position that he occupied within the county. The town as a whole loved him and as long as Caleb wanted his job he was a shoo-in for the position every year when elections came around.

Just as surely it was clear to me that in the two years that I'd been here that no local man that knew of Caleb's fascination with me would ever dare come near me, which was actually perfectly fine with me. I'd had too many experiences with men to ever want anymore.

As always, his gaze lifted up at my approach and I was treated to the intensity of it as usual. Many who didn't know better thought that the quiet sheriff was a laid-back type of man, but I knew different.

Fire and passion blazed like hidden sparks of grave import deep within the depths of his eyes. This man had a history.

The quiet, affable, even friendly demeanor, he showed to others was nothing but a façade. Inside this man was a beast, a tightly controlled one, but a very passionate one no less.

His gaze was always overwhelming and doing my best I met it for a moment before demurring my gaze to hand out the menu, "Good evening Caleb. How was work?"

I glanced up quickly and I noticed with a little thrill that always concerned me the pleasure that being near me always seemed to bring him. For one thing, he seemed to love my heavy Russian accent.

Most American men did, but he seemed to be enamored more than most. Tonight though he actually smiled in response.

It wasn't that he didn't smile often, for he did, but this smile was warm in a way that said his heart was fully in it, "Why do you always bring a menu? You know I always get whatever the special is."

It was the truth. I shrugged and gave a smile of my own as I brought the menu back to rest against my hip, "Well, you never know. One day you might like to try something new."

His gaze turned serious and with shock I listened to the words that rolled off his lips, "Maybe so, but I don't come here for the food."

It was without a doubt one of the most direct statements of interest in me that he had ever made and I stared at him in a complete lack of what to say in return. Nervously, I brushed a tendril of my long blonde hair back over my ear and with a stutter, I broke the silence with, "You want sweet tea?"

"Please." He responded with.

I nodded quickly and turned away even faster. In the process of doing so I lost the menu.

Cursing myself silently I bent down and picked it up. Too late did I realize what I had just done.

A hot-blooded flush turned my clear complexion molten as my fumbling fingers found the menu. Straightening up I refused to look back at him and quickly made for the kitchen.

A girl could learn a lot of things about a man by what he was attracted to the most in terms of a woman's appearance. Over the last two years I'd had plenty of opportunity to observe what it was that Caleb was attracted to in other women as well as myself.

He was without a doubt an ass man and I had just given him a first-class view of mine. Leaning up against the kitchen wall I put a trembling hand to my hot face even as the grim reality of having to soon take Caleb his dinner took hold.

There was nothing else to do but face the inevitable. I put his order in and within minutes as the special was premade I had it on a tray with a glass of sweet tea and was headed back to the man who didn't come here for the food.

He said nothing and after delivering the meal I left quickly, but his gaze followed me. He ate slowly and as always I felt his gaze repeatedly as I moved about my other tables.

He didn't always get dessert, but tonight he did. Typically the most embarrassing moment of each Friday night came as I delivered the bill to him and as always instead of the usual tip I got from others, he instead handed me a $20 bill, which was often more than twice what his meal cost.

His generosity as embarrassing to me as it was, had always equally been appreciated. Tonight I took the money for his tab without saying anything.

Tonight was different. In some ways we both knew that a line had been crossed.

He stood up and I stepped out of the way quickly. His words were deeply spoken and they had my eyes, raising to his in shock, "Good night Anya."

He said nothing more, but turned and left even as he left me shattered to the core. Anya was my real name.

I had told it to no one, but somehow he had found it out!