Page 11

Chapter Eleven

Griffin

The second time Ruby opened the door for me at her house, she looked a lot less pissed off.

“This is progress,” I told her as I walked past, ducking my head as I entered.

“What is? What are all those bags?”

“You’re not looking at me with that cute little homicidal glint in your eyes like you did this morning.”

Ruby smiled sweetly. “There’s still plenty of day left for that to happen.”

I booped her nose. “How true, my little student.”

She swatted at my hand. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to tell Bruiser to eat you.”

“Mmm-kay.”

Ruby frowned. “Seriously, what’s in the bags? They look expensive.”

Instead of answering that, because they were expensive, I simply held them out to her. “Off you go.”

Her brow furrowed, doing that cute little wrinkle thing. “Off I go, where?”

“You may have deprived me of the shopping montage, but I will get a private fashion show.”

Ruby’s mouth hung open. “A ... what?”

I tilted my head down the hall. “Black bag first. I handed them to you in order of how I’d like to see them.” The way her eyes narrowed had me grinning. “Oooh, you were right. I spoke too soon. There’s the look I was waiting for.” Gently, I curled my hands around her shoulders and turned her in the direction of her bedroom. “Come on now. This will be painless, I promise.”

“Not for you,” she muttered.

I laughed as she stalked off, wondering not for the first time how the hell I’d ended up here. Earlier that morning, my ass had popped out of bed, eager to start the day.

“There are clothes in here,” Ruby said.

I whistled. “You are quick today.”

Her head poked out of the bedroom door. “You bought me clothes? Where?”

I picked up the top book on a stack in her family room, studying the creased spine. Persuasion by Jane Austen. “Fort Collins.”

She huffed, disappearing behind the door. I could hear the muffled sound of her clothes being removed, and I gritted my teeth for a moment, unwillingly imagining her peeling off a shirt to reveal that deep-blue lace bra.

“And you’re aware of the best places to shop in Fort Collins how?”

I set the book down and picked up another. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Underneath that was a book of poetry with intricate gold designs on the cover. “My agent’s wife gave me the name of her favorite boutique.”

“So you just waltzed right in, huh? I can only imagine the looks on the other shoppers’ faces.”

One of the poems caught my eye, but I looked up from the book. “Oh, no one else was there. They closed down for an extended lunch so I could shop with just the manager’s help. Her card’s in there if you want to go in.”

The rustling sound of a bag came down the hallway as Ruby found the card. She made a dry laughing noise. “She wrote her cell phone number on here and said, ‘Call me anytime you’re in town.’”

I grinned. “Did she, now?”

Ruby muttered something under her breath.

“How’s it going in there?” I asked, flipping back to the poem I’d noticed.

I missed her response as I read through the pages about yearning and aching, seeking something to fill all those empty places we all seemed to feel.

Ruby cleared her throat, and I snapped the book shut, my lips spreading in an easy smile.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her she looked fucking gorgeous, but I waited, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. “Well ... how did I do?”

The dress fit her perfectly, a more tailored fit than anything I’d seen her wear yet, and she smoothed her hands over the delicate floral embroidering along the front. It was a pale–sky blue dress with a collared neck and fitted design. The cap sleeves were lace—the manager had assured me it would balance out a petite figure nicely—and Ruby’s eyes were huge, looking bluer than they ever had before when she looked up at me.

“I love it,” she said simply.

“Good.” My voice sounded gruff, and she must have heard it, too, because she pulled her eyes away from mine and looked down at the ground. “Could you see yourself wearing this on a nice date?”

Ruby tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and inhaled slowly before she raised her head again. Her answering nod was serious and slow.

“How much was it?” she asked. “I don’t usually spend a lot on clothes.”

“Why don’t you try on the next two, and we’ll talk about that later.”

She pursed her lips, clearly gearing up to argue, but thought better of it after seeing my face.

Like I’d take a fucking penny for those clothes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her walk back to her bedroom, then glance quickly over her shoulder, our gazes locking briefly before she fully closed the door. I breathed out slowly through my nose while I waited.

A muffled bark came from the kitchen, and when I walked through, I found Bruiser waiting patiently by the back slider. At the sight of me, he jumped up on the door, splaying his front paws on the glass and wiggling his body back and forth in an excited little dance.

Upon entering the house, he circled me immediately, leaning up against my legs for a scratch. “You’re the worst guard dog in the world, you know that?”

His response was to let his pink tongue loll out his mouth while I patted the side of his belly firmly.

Ruby entered the kitchen in a deep wine–colored cocktail dress with a halter neckline and a flirty skirt that ended above her knees. This one showed her shoulders and a hint of clavicle—one of the sexiest and most underrated bones in the human body, if you asked me—and I made a low noise of satisfaction deep in my throat.

“I was right,” I murmured, circling her where she stood in the middle of the room.

“About what?” she asked, voice slightly above a whisper.

“That color is perfect for you.”

She shifted to the side just as I came up behind her, and I tilted my head. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I just ... I couldn’t get the zipper done up all the way in the back. It’s fine.”

“No, no. We need to make sure it fits,” I said, easing closer. She’d been able to pull the gold zipper up to her shoulder blades, and even though the glimpse of skin was brief—flawless, pale skin with a smattering of tiny freckles on either side of the delicate bumps of her spine—my throat went dry all the same. There was a tiny eye hook at the top of the halter, and I brushed her hair out of the way before using my other hand to tug the zipper into place.

Ruby had gone still as a statue, so perfectly unmoving that I wasn’t even sure she was breathing. Odd—I was having a hard time pulling air into my own lungs while I fastened the eye hook shut so that the dress fit properly.

“Let’s see,” I instructed, willing my voice to work properly.

It wasn’t Ruby, per se. It couldn’t be. There was no universe in which pulling up a zipper, covering a woman’s body with a dress, would turn me on. But there I was, half-hard in her kitchen because of a glimpse of her back.

Slowly, she turned, and my eyes dragged over the fit of the dress.

“Perfect,” I whispered. “You look beautiful. Do you feel it?”

Her inhale was shaky, and I found myself breathless, waiting for a response. I wanted her to feel beautiful. To feel desirable. But mostly, I still wanted her to feel like Ruby.

“I-I’m going to try on something else,” she said, her eyes flickering slightly as she stared up into my face.

She moved past me, and I was able to suck in a breath. Before she walked into her room, I called her name. “The blue bag next. Save the black bag for work tomorrow.”

“What about the gray-striped bag?” she asked.

With a small hum, I conjured up the image of what was waiting inside that one. “Save that one for a special occasion.”

Her brow furrowed, but she nodded, disappearing behind the door.

When she was out of sight, I blew out a harsh breath and rubbed the back of my neck. Bruiser was sitting at my feet, watching me with knowing eyes.

“Listen, buddy, my intentions are pure.” His head tilted, and there was an unconvinced twitch to his ears that I didn’t like. “Did you see that dress? Anyone would get turned on, okay? Don’t act like you’ve never gotten an inconvenient boner.”

While she was changing again, I helped myself to a glass of ice water and rooted through her pantry until I found a bag of microwave popcorn. It was popping furiously when she appeared again.

Becks, the boutique manager with a keen sense of fashion and a fierce desire for me to call her again, had taken my final challenge to heart.

The lounge set was pure decadence—long, flowing pants in ivory and a matching turtleneck top that was slightly cropped, showing a hint of her toned stomach. The entire thing looked sleek and expensive on her.

“What is this?” she asked, gesturing to the last outfit with a hint of a smile on her face.

“I told her I wanted something comfortable. Sexy without being over the top, and expensive. So you felt like you were doing something naughty just by wearing it.”

Ruby’s cheeks held a hint of pink. “She did very well. I’ve never owned anything made out of cashmere.” She ran a hand over the overly long sleeves. “I don’t know when I’d actually wear it, though.”

“For a night just like this one,” I told her. “Where you’ve got a man in your house, and you want to teach him all about the old-timey romance movies you love.”

“It’s a period movie,” she corrected. At my confused expression, Ruby shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a slightly self-conscious laugh. Then she saw the popcorn in the microwave and the giant bowl waiting on the counter.

“Oh no, you’re not,” she said, eyes widening.

“Yes, I am. You’ve got a date for movie night tonight, birdy. I hope you don’t mind sharing your popcorn.”

Ten minutes later, we were on the couch, my legs stretched out on the matching plush leather ottoman. Ruby was tucked into the corner, the popcorn bowl on her lap and Bruiser parked right in front of her, his eyes locked on the prize.

“How about this one?” I asked, flipping through some of the choices she’d had queued up. Persuasion . Same title as one of the books on the stack.

“I just watched that last week,” she said.

I kept scrolling and saw another version of the same movie, and I cut her a sidelong glance.

“They’re very different,” she replied primly.

With a grin, I reached over and took a handful of popcorn.

“Ah, here we go.” I clicked on Pride I wouldn’t want to show up at a party with everyone staring at me like that either) and Lizzie (who was hot in a smart, mouthy kind of way).

“Fuck me,” I whispered when he asked her a question about pride. “That’s a big deal, right?”

Ruby gave me a thoughtful look. “Yes. First time he’s letting down the mask with her. He wouldn’t be engaging like this if he wasn’t a little bit interested. Even if he didn’t want to be yet, he can’t seem to help it.”

We reached for a bite of popcorn at the same time, our fingers brushing. Hers yanked back more quickly than mine, and I risked a glance out of the corner of my eye.

It felt like middle school, when you’re sitting next to your crush in a movie theater, holding your hand out at an awkward angle and hoping they’d take the bait—butterflies exploding in your stomach when they did.

Ruby had fully relaxed by this point, her arm up against mine and her knee completely resting on my thigh. The scene ended, and we both sat, raptly watching as Darcy reached out and helped her into the carriage. Lizzie’s stunned look had me glancing over at Ruby for a moment, and fuck if she didn’t have the sweetest smile on her face.

Then Darcy pulled back, flexed his hand, and Ruby sighed decadently.

I grabbed the remote and hit pause. “Hang on a second.”

“What?”

I gestured to the TV. “What the fuck was that?”

“The hand flex,” she answered seriously. “He grabbed her hand. They weren’t wearing gloves.”

For a moment, I did nothing but stare. “They weren’t wearing gloves?”

She edged forward in her seat, face more animated than I’d ever seen. God, was she always this fucking cute? I did a quick mental tally of concussions, because repetitive head injuries were the only plausible reason I hadn’t noticed right away.

“Back then, skin-to-skin touching almost never happened outside of a dance, courting, or an engagement, and even then, it would’ve been considered scandalous.” Her eyes were glittering in the darkened room, and I found myself with a dry throat again, slightly desperate to know what she was going to say next. “Him touching her like that would’ve felt ...” Her voice lowered to a throaty whisper. “Electric.” Then she smiled, biting down on her bottom lip as she did. It took everything in me to tear my gaze away from her mouth. “Just from holding her hand. Can you imagine?”

No. But fuck if I didn’t want to.

“Show me,” I told her in a rough, quiet voice, shifting the popcorn from her lap and easing my hand onto my thigh, just next to where her knee rested against it. My pulse hammered in my ears as she stared down at my hand. “If I were your date, a real one, and you were watching this—what would you do? Would you show me?”

The graceful line of her throat worked on a swallow, but she didn’t shut down. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’ve never had a man here for a movie date. Are we renegotiating to account for hand-holding?”

Yes. Please, dear God, yes.

“If you want.” My chin rose in a slight dare, and she saw it. Ruby tightened her jaw and stared down at my hand, where the pinkie was a fraction of an inch from the soft cashmere covering her legs.

“For practice,” she said. “Right?”

I nodded, because fuck, I would’ve agreed to anything. I didn’t know what power this movie had, but I wanted her to hold my hand more than anything in the entire fucking world. My heartbeat hammered in my chest when she slid her hand over the top of mine, just a whisper of a touch at first.

Scared to move too quickly, I let her drag her nails over my knuckles, over and back, before I turned my hand over, my palm facing hers now. The hair on my arms lifted at her gentle, curious exploration, and I clenched my jaw while I watched. Her hand was so much smaller. If she stretched her fingers out over mine, I would’ve been able to bend at the top knuckle easily, without her needing to remove her hand.

The skin on her fingers was impossibly soft when she danced her fingertips over the calluses on my palms. “This is from playing?” she asked.

I managed a nod. “Mostly from lifting, but ... yeah.”

She blinked slowly, staring down at our hands as she continued the delicate, torturous touches, and she eased her fingers in between mine. “And men would like something like this?” she asked. “It wouldn’t seem ... stupid? Too innocent?”

God, I couldn’t even answer, because I felt like my voice might crack over the screaming sexual tension locking down my entire body. I shook my head and cleared my throat. “No. It’s not stupid.”

Even though I should’ve let her do it, and my head was swimming dangerously from this not-too-innocent, not-too-stupid moment, I curled my fingers up and around hers, pressing our palms together firmly.

Simply because I wanted to hold her hand.

Ruby glanced up at me, her eyes big in her face, and then she smiled. A real smile too. With the flash of a dimple in her cheek and a tiny spread of laugh lines bracketing her mouth when she did.

“Wanna start the movie again?” she asked.

I nodded, fumbling with my other hand to find the right button on the remote. The music started back up, and we stayed like that, hand in hand, side by side in the dark.

I knew two things right in that moment:

Ruby Tate was so much sexier than she realized.

And I was completely fucked.