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Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling it at the roots. “Don’t push it, Dr. Charming.”

Grinning, I looked back down and tied her shoe as she released my hair. “Just checking.”

When both her shoes were tied, Ruth bracketed my face with her hands and tilted it up to her. On my knees, I stared up at her in unabashed adoration. Gray-blue eyes held my attention seriously. “You know I don’t say things without thinking them through… mostly.”

I nodded, slipping my arms around her legs and hips, avoiding the road rash on her right thigh. “I know you don’t.”

“And you know I’ve spent a lot of time thinking that I’m,” she swallowed visibly, and her voice broke when she whispered, “unlovable.”

I tightened my arms around her, wanting to bury my face in her lap and squeeze her until she had no tears to shed. “I know,” I whispered back.

Ruth’s hands smoothed across my cheeks, scrubbing the beard growth along my jaw and sending shivers down my neck and back. “What you said about love not being earned, about it justbeing,I think I know what you mean, now.”

I held my breath, watching her with quiet hopefulness. Herfull lips rolled together as she thought again, choosing her words carefully as always. It occurred to me then how much like her own eyes Ruth was. She wasn’t sunshine and bubbles like other women aspired to be. Ruth was a rainy day, comforting and gentle in its slow pace. She was sleepy mornings and a soothing cadence of clean, pure rainwater. She was tranquility.

Snaring me with that deep, sharp-witted gaze, she whispered, “My love for you just is.”

A torrent of dammed-up emotions filled my chest and climbed up my throat. I swallowed roughly, hoping I’d heard her correctly. “You love me, Shortstop?”

She nodded, and I stood, pulling her up with me. She tugged me down so my lips hovered just over hers. “I love you in the most irrational way possible.”

I gave her a speculative eyebrow raise. “How are we supposed to function if we both love each other like crazy people?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it cancels out,” she said, her breath puffing across my lips.

My lips curved. “Sounds logical.”

“Good. Then shut up and kiss me, Doc.”

I grinned just before she sealed our lips with a desperate kiss. Mindful of her bruises and scrapes, I curved my arm around her waist drawing her up against my body as I deepened the kiss. Starving for her, craving more of her, I took all she had to give and then demanded more. She sighed into our kiss, arms looped behind my neck and body leaned into mine like she didn’t doubt for a moment that I would hold her up.

Because I would. Always.

Chapter twenty-eight

Ruth

Ruth

Cal aimed his long lens into the trees above us, taking a rapid succession of pictures that clicked through the quiet park trail as a finch fluttered away. I lounged on a park bench, watching him with interest. When he lowered the lens, I cocked my head with a smile. “I honestly thought you were pulling my leg when you said you liked bird photography.”

Cal chuckled ruefully and let the camera dangle from its strap around his torso. He rested it on his hip, and he held out a hand for me. “I wish I was. But it soothes me and gives me a reason to get outside. Plus, it’s like hunting Pokémon. I fucking loved that game as a kid. Some of the birds are more rare than others, and catching them is a total rush.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “I can see how that would be. I don’t know anything about Pokémon, but I think I get it.Although, I find that surprising given that you were a jock and played football.”

“I never said I was a popular jock,” he pointed out.

“Now who’s the nerd?”

Cal tugged me against his other side and wrapped a crushing arm around me as we started back down the trail. “Verydroll, doctor.”

I snickered, pushing against his side and causing us to stumble for a moment before he righted us and guided us back to the company picnic. I pressed my glasses back into place, and the serenity of the wooded area gradually gave way to the laughter and collective chatter from the “block party” barbeque. The smell of grilled hamburgers and hot dogs mingled with the tangy bite of the river water as a gentle breeze drifted over everyone’s heads. Cal’s arm, solid and comforting, tightened around my shoulders with a squeeze. “How’s your knee?”

I glanced at the bruised joint. “Fine, I think. I mean, I have an overqualified nurse fussing over it every night, so,” I teased.

“Wow, eight years of med school and residency, and she calls me an overqualified nurse.” Cal pinched my waist, one of the few places that wasn’t covered in bruises or scrapes. “You have some nerve.”

We reached the group of Kiss-Met employees, and I came to stand next to Gemma and Janice. Gemma had her hair in her half-up pigtail buns, and she wore a flouncy white dress that showed off the exaggerated lines of her curves. She held up a drink for me in greeting. “There you are. I was starting to thinkyou were getting boned back there.”