by Selena Scott
Why the hell had she started this sentence? Not for the first time she wished to God she had a time-turner, like Hermione. That she could just turn things back and have a good old fashioned do-over. But seeing as she couldn’t, Ruby ignored the searing blush on her own cheeks and shot for casual. She shrugged. “I just figured you were calling.”
Ansel’s mouth dropped flat open. He was sure he looked like a dope, but he simply couldn’t contain his shock. She thought he was calling on Arla Weaver? That he’d ever be interested in that hair-sprayed, venom-tongued man-eater? He couldn’t believe the irony. That the only reason he’d taken that damn job was to be just a little closer to Ruby, and here she was, thinking he was the kind of man who not only called on Arla Weaver, but called on her in the middle of the damn workday?
“You thought I was calling on Ms. Weaver,” he said in a blank voice.
Ruby glanced up at him, just a glimpse of that deep blue in her eyes, before her gaze skittered over his boots. “Well, I take it from your reaction that I’m wrong.”
“I, yeah, no. Just no. I–,” he cut off and gathered his thoughts for a second, trailed one work glove over his trim blond hair and squinted at the layers of green leaves above him. He searched for the polite way to say this. “Ms. Weaver is not my type.”
Ruby frowned, thinking of Arla Weaver’s rail-thin body, huge boobs, and acres of long blonde hair. “I was under the impression she was every man’s type.”
Ansel frowned. “Every man who wants to get his head bit off after se…” He trailed off, immediately clearing his throat. Why the hell was he about to talk sex head-biting with the woman he was currently nursing a hell of a crush on?
But Ruby had merely bit her lip to keep from smiling. “She always did give me a sort of praying mantis vibe.”
Was he blushing? Never having seen him look anything but completely self-assured, Ruby found herself a little charmed. He was always such a perfect gentleman, it was intimidating. But to see him slip, just a little, was nice. Disarming even.
“I, uh, well.” He scratched at the back of his neck and Ruby found herself even more charmed. She got the distinct impression that for the first time ever, she was the one making him uncomfortable. She kind of liked that.
He turned and started in on landing the mailbox in the hole as Ruby watched for another second. It would really be nice to have a new mailbox, one that wasn’t so rusted her mail got wet if she didn’t collect it before it rained. And it was such a pretty red one, too. She tried to keep the house in good order, but there were some things that she hadn’t gotten around to. Like the mailbox. Or that damn living room light that was so high up she’d have to drag the ladder out from the garage to change it. Those were the kinds of things that Griff used to do.
Her chest squeezed as Ruby realized that Griff would expect better of her. You’re sitting in the dark each night just because I’m not around to fix that bulb? Come on, Rube. Look sharp. She almost smiled to herself as she pictured his words.
“I suppose you need me to move my truck, if you gotta get all the way to Rosewood in an hour.”
She nodded, a little preoccupied with her thoughts. Ruby scampered back to the house, collected her work bag, and backed down the driveway in her silver Honda Civic. She’d wanted a red one, of course, but the dealer had explained how much more often red cars get ticketed and she hadn’t wanted the hassle. When her car was level with where Ansel crouched next to her mailbox, she lowered the passenger side window and leaned across the car to shout out to him.
She’d made up her mind about something and she was sure Griff would approve. “Mr. Keto?”
He stood up and came to lean into the open window of the car. “Yes, ma’am?”
She was sure he was teasing her after she’d called him Mr. Keto instead of Ansel, but she didn’t acknowledge it. “It occurs to me that a life for a mailbox isn’t exactly an even trade.”
He shaded his eyes from the sun and set his jaw in that way of his. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” she said resolutely. “I’m thinking it might be more even if it was, say, a life for a mailbox and a changed lightbulb in my living room that I can’t reach without a ladder?”
Now there was a definite curve to his lips. Ruby found she had to concentrate on that slightly large nose just to be able to keep her eyes on his face. “Sounds fair to me,” he agreed.
“Alright. You remember where my spare key is? You can just let yourself in whenever.”
He nodded. “I’ll do it after work this evening.”
“Alright,” she said again as he stepped back from the car. She started to back her car up again when another thought struck her. She slammed on the brakes and he automatically ducked back into the window. She grinned sheepishly, showing him all those pearly teeth. “What about a mailbox, a lightbulb, and a leaky faucet?”
Now he outright laughed. It was a deep, gravelly laugh, as squinty and tight-jawed as ever and for the second time, he made her laugh, too. He cleared his throat.
“My pleasure, Ruby.”
CHAPTER THREE
There were a man’s size fourteen boots in her kitchen. Ruby frowned, dang near gnawed her bottom lip off, and tried to calm her flipping stomach. Well, to be honest, there were a man’s size fourteen boots and a pair of gigantic, beaten up Wranglers, bent at the knee. And a pair of legs inside those Wranglers. Hell. There was a whole damn man in her kitchen. But half of him was underneath her kitchen sink.
After her meeting, she’d run a few quick errands and then headed down to the waterfall. Where nothing happened, as usual. Except today she’d stayed about two hours later than she usually stayed. She didn’t like to be in the woods after dark, and she usually wasn’t. But she’d known that Ansel was going to be doing those repairs after he was done with the workday and she wanted to be good and sure he was gone when she got back.
But he wasn’t. Gone, that is. He was there. On his back on her kitchen floor.
Even if she hadn’t seen him, she would have been able to smell him. Cedar and evening air and clean sweat. The man sure had presence.
Ruby stood, frozen, at the entrance to her kitchen, completely unsure of what to do next. Any of the easiness she’d begun to feel a touch of that morning was completely gone. She felt even more off-kilter than she used to, years ago, when he’d done the renovations to the house. Because back then, Griff was around. Back then, Ansel wasn’t the first other person to be in her house in a year. She’d gotten used to the dead quiet, the chronic, aching loneliness. Having someone else in the house, especially someone like Ansel Keto, made her feel like there wasn’t enough air for the both of them.
“Hey,” he said in that tight-jawed, gravelly way. He must have spotted her feet. She expected him to slide out from under the sink, but he just kept working.
“Hey,” she echoed, sliding off her flats and kicking them back toward the front door. Her bag she tossed onto the bench that ran along the kitchen wall. Her hands fussed with her dress. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”
She wasn’t sure if that sounded rude or not, but she couldn’t take it back now.
“Work ran a little long.” Intentionally. He’d killed time at Arla’s so that he could make sure he’d be at Ruby’s when she was there. Maybe catch himself a dinner invitation. But man, he’d paid dearly for that little maneuver. Arla Weaver, sensing that he was stalling for time, took it to mean something quite different than he did. That woman was strong. He’d had to use both hands to pry her legs from around his waist and her arms from around his neck.
He figured it was worth it, though, now that he could see Ruby’s bare feet, her red toenails bright against the faded blue tile of her kitchen floor.
“Alright.” Her feet shifted and Ansel, with his refined shifter senses, could hear her heart rate pick up. She was nervous. Years ago, when he’d first developed a crush on her, he would have taken it as his cue to leave. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. But now,
he thought he might stick around a little. See if he couldn’t figure out exactly which way he was making her nervous.
“Can I ask you something?” He fiddled with the leaky pipe, almost done fixing it.
“Sure.”
“How is it that you can cook without even being home?” She had something stewing in the slow cooker on the counter that had been percolating all day, and the scent had been making his stomach grumble for the last hour as he’d fixed the lightbulb and the sink.
She let out a light, surprised little laugh and he watched her feet move toward the counter. He heard her lift the lid and then set it back down. “It’s just the crock pot. It’s how I usually make dinner. I throw things in in the morning so it’s all ready by the time I get home.”
“Well,” he said, sliding out from under the sink and wiping his hands on a rag. “Whatever it is, you sure know how to drive a man crazy.”
Her cheeks went that rosy red he liked so much and she slid herself back toward the counter as Ansel sat up. He leaned one elbow on each knee. He figured he couldn’t intimidate her if he was sitting at her feet. But still, there was that heart rate of hers, each beat racing the next.
She took a deep breath, her eyes on his boots, and said something he knew she was saying only out of sheer politeness. “Would you like some? It’s chicken stew. I’m sure you’re hungry after a long day.”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “I would love some.”
She nodded once and then turned toward the cabinet, pulling out a Tupperware. Ansel deflated. She wasn’t inviting him to dinner, she was gonna send him on his way with some food. He knew it was a jerk move, but he decided to press on her politeness a bit more. “Mind if I borrow a fork, too? I’m so hungry I’m just gonna eat it in the truck on the way home.”
“Oh.” She paused. Her hand trembled once. And then she put the Tupperware back in the cabinet. “You might as well just eat here then.”
Ding ding ding! Ansel restrained the urge to take a bow. He’d just wrangled himself a dinner invite.
She had to cross the kitchen to get the proper plates and as she went he held a hand out to her. She paused, standing in front of him, before she realized he was asking for a hand off of the ground.
Damn, she looked so pretty. So pretty he wanted to pick her like a flower. Press his nose into the length of her neck, really just get lost in that scent of hers. She stood there, her dress swirling around her knees, her feet bare, and that little, adorably perplexed look on her face as she stared down at his extended hand.
Slowly, she slipped both her small, soft hands over his one extended hand. She slid one into his palm, and the other over the back. Ansel bit back a slew of curse words. It was the first time they’d touched hands since he’d introduced himself as her new carpenter. Her touch both inflamed and instantly soothed him. He felt, in that first, incendiary moment of contact, more like a wild animal than he did when he was in his grizzly form. He fought the urge to give her a good tug, send her tumbling down into his lap where he could lap her up like a bowl of milk.
Ruby shifted her weight back and tugged, trying to lift him up, but it was like tugging on the side of a house. The dang thing was not going to budge. He smiled at her feeble attempt and on the second one, used his own strength to drag himself up. Ruby was a little surprised when he actually pulled down on her. A little harder than she might have thought. But he was a big man and she was a little woman; what was rough for her was probably downright gentle for him.
When he came to stand fully, it was closer than he’d ever stood to her before and Ruby could feel the heat kicking off of his monstrously large body. She was eye level with his pecs, which were pretty much straining against the confines of his shirt. Again, she caught sight of just the edge of whatever tattoo he had on his chest and for the first time, curiosity burned over it.
And that was just the right word, because suddenly, she felt like she was burning right up. There was a heat coming from him and strangely enough, there was a heat coming from her as well. She felt as if a furnace had kicked on inside of her. “It’s… it’s warm in here,” she stuttered. “Mind if we eat on the porch?”
“Not at all. I’m just gonna wash up real quick.”
He disappeared into the bathroom and Ruby quickly scanned her brain, wondering if she’d left any of her delicates out to dry. She had a washing machine and dryer in the back mudroom, but she didn’t like to put her nicer things through that. It was with a sinking heart that she realized that she most likely had left one of her bras over the shower rod. Oh well.
She pulled out bowls for the stew and served it up, setting two glasses of iced tea and a hunk of bread she’d made the other day onto a big tray.
“I’ll take that,” he said from the doorway of the kitchen. He strode in and took the tray, and Ruby followed him out to the porch. She noticed that the collar of his shirt was wet and so was his hair. She was oddly touched by the thought that he’d washed up so thoroughly, even smoothing his hair back with water just to sit down for dinner. He really was such a polite man, which was an almost strange contrast to his sheer size, his all-consuming presence.
She didn’t have a porch swing, so Ansel set the tray of food down on the top step and settled himself halfway down, letting his long legs trail down the stairs. He felt a drop of water from his hair slide down the tense line of his back and he was grateful for the coolness of it. He felt like he was about to burst into flames. From her nearness and from the memory of that little red scrap of something girly she’d had over her shower rod. He had no earthly clue why women did that with their unmentionables, and prior to today, he hadn’t really cared. But three minutes ago, he’d had to splash cold water all over his damn head just to keep from staring at it.
Bra or underwear? he wondered to himself as his pants became uncomfortably tight. He forced the thought away when he realized that she’d spoken and he hadn’t heard it.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” He chugged half his glass of iced tea in one go.
She passed him a bowl of food, broke the hunk of bread in half and stuffed it in on top of the stew. “I said thank you, for everything you did for me today. I know we’re pretending like there’s some sort of exchange here, but it really was generous of you to help me out so much.”
Ansel frowned as he took his first few bites. “Ruby. It’s the least I could do. Wow. Goddamn. This is delicious. Holy hell, you gotta give me this recipe.”
She smiled as he shoveled more food into his mouth. “You cook?”
He nodded, his eyes still on his bowl like he thought it might disappear if he gave it the chance. “We all do.”
‘All’ meant him and his siblings, she knew. The Keto family was the subject of a lot of gossip. She didn’t partake in gossip generally, considering she was the source of so much of it these days. But prior to Griff’s disappearance, she’d heard a great deal about them. They were all single, all terribly good-looking, and lived scattered around the hills. One of them, she was pretty sure one of the girls, lived in the city. But the rest had their own cabins. Ansel included.
“Well, I can’t give you the recipe, I’m sorry to say.”
He looked up at her like she’d just dumped his Christmas present into a trash can. “Why’s that?”
She shrugged. “There is no recipe. I just dumped a bunch of stuff into the crockpot this morning.”
He gaped at her for a second before setting his jaw in that way of his. “Alright. We’re gonna reverse engineer it then.” He took a bite, but this time he didn’t wolf it down. “So, chicken obviously. Can or two of stewed tomatoes. Then what’s that? Cumin? Yeah. Touch of cinnamon. Garlic.”
He proceeded to guess all of the ingredients that she’d included in the stew, though Ruby wouldn’t have remembered half of them if he hadn’t mentioned them.
“Wow,” she lifted her eyebrows, totally impressed. “You’ve got quite the tongue.”
She blushed down to the roots of h
er hair and Ansel resisted the urge to tease her about the comment. If only she knew how talented his tongue actually was.
He shrugged. “I’ve got great senses.” Understatement of the century. “Good night vision. Good hearing. That kind of thing.”
Ruby nodded, scraping the last spoonful of stew out of her bowl. “So does my brother.”
She froze. She never casually brought up Griff. Not in a year. And it was both painful and relieving to do so now. She still had a few friends in Brooklyn that she kept in touch with, but they were too nervous to bring him up. And almost everyone around here completely avoided her now. There was no one to talk about Griff to, even if she’d wanted to. She glanced up at Ansel to see if the mention of Griff had made him uncomfortable.
“I remember that,” he said easily. “When he’d be here, helping me out with whatever job I was working on, he could always hear your car from way down the road. Know you were coming.”
“Yeah. He’s impossible to sneak up on. I used to try my hardest to surprise him, but he’d always turn around and spook me in the process.”
They both grinned at that. Ruby’s grin fell away first. Her chest cramped. Sometimes she missed her brother so much she couldn’t breathe.
Her breath flooded her lungs as Ansel pressed the back of his hand to the back of hers. An unusual way of touching someone, oddly intimate and impersonal at the same time. “I’m so sorry about Griff, Ruby. I’m so sorry I couldn’t find him.”
Ruby snapped her head up at that; what a strange way to word that. “Were you part of the search parties? I– I don’t remember much about those few weeks.”
He nodded slowly. “I was. My brother and sisters, too. We couldn’t stand by, knowing such a good kid was missing.”
Ruby brusquely brushed at her eyes, but they were dry. They were always dry these days. “It’s nice to hear you say that. ‘Good kid’. Sometimes I feel like people think of him poorly now. It’s like the strange circumstances of his disappearance make them suspicious of him.” And me, she added in her head.