by Freya Barker
It’s already past nine, and if I want to catch Ruby, I’m going to have to get moving.
Ruby
“Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I hold myself up against the doorpost as Tim bends down to pick up my keys.
“It’s okay,” I say, but I’m lying. My knees still wobble like jelly and my heart is firmly wedged in my throat, trying to beat its way out. His responding grumble tells me he’s not buying it. With a steadying hand on my arm, he uses my keys to open the door, and once again marches me past the elevator and up the stairs. “Wait,” I insist, with a restraining hand on his chest as he prepares to unlock my apartment. “What is going on?” With the initial scare gone, a surge of anger flares up. “Are you gonna drop me at my door and disappear for weeks again? Because if you are, spare me, okay? It wasn’t worth the heart attack.” I snatch the keys from his hand and swiftly unlock and push open the door, fully intending to slam it behind me. Tim is faster, though, forcing himself inside, behind me, before closing the door firmly.
“We need to talk,” he says, shrugging out of his coat, and for the first time I have a good look at him. I’m initially distracted by the pretty substantial beard he’s grown, the unkempt hair, and his unusually casual attire, before my eyes zoom in on the lines in his face and the dark circles under his eyes. I instantly feel my anger fade. It’s pretty obvious the man’s not having an easy time. So instead of arguing, I take off my coat, kick off my shoes, and sit down in a corner of the couch, not saying a word.
Finally, after observing me from his vantage point by the door, he heels off his boots and follows me inside. Instead of the couch, he chooses to sit down on the coffee table facing me, running a hand through his messy hair. Slowly his eyes come up to meet mine and he clears his throat.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he starts, surprising me. “I don’t,” he repeats. “My life was pretty set. I thought I knew what I did and didn’t want out of it, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Because you lost your job,” I clarify.
“Not just because of that, although I will admit; it’s a fucking sobering experience to think you’re sitting safe with twenty solid years under your belt, only to have it disappear like that.” He snaps his fingers for emphasis. “These past few weeks have felt like my world’s been tilted on its axis, changing my entire perspective. It’s unsettling. I couldn’t even handle Christmas. It didn’t start with getting fired, though,” he says leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “It started when I first saw you.”
I can’t stop the snort escaping, despite the hand I slap in front of my face. “Please. I find that hard to believe,” I scoff. “We never even spoke more than a few words since I started working at the pub. Not until a few weeks ago anyway.”
“True,” he admits. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t see you.” I wave my hand in the air dismissively, not ready to buy into that.
“Will you tell me about it?” he asks, switching direction completely and throwing me off. Oh, I know what he’s talking about, but I didn’t expect him to be so direct. “Not now,” he assures me, putting a hand on my knee. “But at some point?”
“Why?” I have to know. “It’s not a pretty story.”
“I’m sure it isn’t, but it’s your story, which means I want to know it.”
Something about that hits me hard. The idea someone thinks I’m worth knowing is still so new. So strange to learn not everyone sees you as a means to an end, a thing to be used and discarded. I’ve had glimpses of it, especially the last few weeks, but from Tim it brings up a lot of emotions. Perhaps because it makes me realize he sees me as a whole and not as the sum of my parts.
“You like me,” I blurt out, before I can catch myself. I’m mortified, but Tim chuckles softly.
“Not the first time I heard that,” he says, shaking his head. “But yeah, I like you, Ruby. And I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t know what I’m doing. I want to know you, but there’s so much going on that I don’t know where to start.”
That little seed that had almost shriveled up in the past few weeks flares back to life with a fresh surge of hope. In my much younger years, before every last spark of hope had been carefully ground out, I’d sometimes fantasized about someone coming along, who might want me for more than just sex, but those dreams didn’t last long. It makes me a little scared, a lot out of my element, but I force myself to look Tim square in the eyes.
“I don’t know either, but maybe we can start with a drink?”
A slow smile spreads over Tim’s face, brightening even his gorgeous blue eyes. “I’d like that,” he says in a low voice. Then he gets up and I expect him to sit down on the couch, but instead he leans forward, his arms on the arm and backrest, caging me in. His mouth brushes mine softly. “I’d like that a lot,” he affirms, his lips moving on my mouth, before nipping my bottom lip. I’m completely mesmerized by the slow, sweet play of his kisses.
Abruptly he pushes up and steps back to reveal he’s clearly as affected as I am. “Yeah,” he says, adjusting himself unselfconsciously with a smirk. “Before I get carried away, I’m gonna splash some cold water on my face. Maybe you can grab those drinks?”
With my mouth still hanging half open and a hot flush on my cheeks, I watch him saunter into the hallway, realizing too late all I have in my fridge is milk and cranberry juice. A mad scramble to the kitchen shows me the sad truth. A jug of milk and half a container of juice, a few tea bags and decaf coffee Viv must’ve left in the cupboard. I’m going to have to make a grocery list the moment my brain starts working again.
I hear the toilet flush and a moment later Tim comes walking into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” he wants to know, watching me struggle to fold the paper towel in the coffee maker Viv left behind to serve as a makeshift filter. I’d bypassed the milk and tea as viable options for a drink, and settled on coffee being the more masculine option than cranberry juice.
“I, uhh...I’m making coffee. I wasn’t expecting guests.”
Noticing my embarrassment, he smiles before leaning down to kiss my lips again. “Coffee is fine, but what’s with the paper towel?”
“No filters,” I explain. “I haven’t had a chance to go to the grocery store. I’ll go tomorrow,” I assure him. That’s not exactly the truth, because I have been. It’s just that I get flustered when I see the miles of aisles, with everything under the sun on offer. I hardly know where to start, so I end up grabbing what I can see and hurry through the register before I’m completely overwhelmed. I obviously haven’t managed to find the coffee filters yet.
“Here—give me that.” Tim deftly plucks the wad of paper out of my hands and proceeds to fold it neatly into the shape of a filter. In less than a minute, the coffee is perking.
“So let’s start easy, okay?” he says gently, as he takes in my wringing hands. “I’m Tim Veldman, Timothy Michael Veldman, to be complete. I’m forty-three, have one brother and was born and raised in Portland. My parents still live here and I’m currently unemployed,” he adds with a wink. “Now you.”
“Oh. Uh, my last name is Soto,” I share with him, a little relieved to find I’m only a year older. “I’m forty-four and don’t have brothers or sisters.”
“So not Betty Boop?” he jokes, before his smiling face turns serious. “And what about parents?” he asks carefully.
“They died a long time ago,” I explain.
“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching out and stroking the backs of his fingers over my cheek. I have to stop myself from curling into his touch like a cat.
“It’s okay,” I shrug, pulling away to grab the two mugs I have from the cupboard. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
Tim stays quiet behind me while I pour coffee. Turning around, I find his eyes intently focused on me. “Tell me the rest when you’re ready,” he says softly. I nod in silent understanding. He’s letting me off the hook, that’s what he’s telling me. At the same time, he’s making s
ure I know that he still intends to find out everything about me.
Oddly enough, it doesn’t scare me half as much as it probably should.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tim
“You’re back?”
Ruby’s voice sounds a little breathless as she opens the door for me. I’d managed to catch the entrance door as it was closing behind an older gentleman taking his slobbering little pug for a walk. I’ve never seen the appeal of those pint-sized failed bulldogs.
I’d made the decision to take Ruby to get groceries last night, when she mentioned needing some. She doesn’t have transportation, and something about her having to tote her bags walking or taking the bus just doesn’t sit right with me. The taste of that vile decaf crap solidified my idea. I’ve been living off takeout these last few weeks, too miserable to get myself into the kitchen, so I’m past due to stock my fridge anyway. It wasn’t until I was halfway home I realized I’d forgot to mention it.
I’d been too preoccupied the rest of the evening. A little stilted at first, Ruby had started talking a little about her life. Mostly general stuff at first, a few movies she’d seen, some places she’d been to. When I asked her what place she’d most like to return to, she’d gone quiet for a bit. “To my parents’ farm,” she admitted finally, a hitch in her voice and a hint of wetness in her eyes. “I’d love to wake up to the sound of the tractor in the morning, when my father would go out to his fields. Mamá would be in the kitchen. She never sent my father off without a cooked breakfast. Or me,” she said wishfully, her eyes getting that far away look of someone lost in their memories.
I didn’t stay long after that. It was already late and she’d had a full shift on her feet. So I pulled her from the couch, had her walk me to the door where I kissed her goodbye. Took all I had to walk out of that door.
The same door that is now propped open by Ruby’s well-rounded hip.
“Groceries. Let’s go,” I prod her, pleased to see a little smile tug at the corner of her mouth. “You probably start at ten or eleven? That gives us an hour and a half to get what we need and still have you there in time. Oh,” I add as she buttons her coat and grabs her bag, before pulling the door shut behind her. “I also printed out a recipe for Chiles Renellos. I owe you a cooking lesson.”
Not giving her a chance to react, I grab her hand in mine and aim for the stairwell. She tugs on my hand as we pass the elevator, and I stop. “We can take the elevator,” she says nervously.
“We don’t need to. I don’t mind the stairs.”
“I know, but I’d like to try the elevator,” she insists, despite the fear in her eyes. “With you,” she adds in a soft voice.
Immediately my free hand hits the button. I don’t say anything but I’m pumping my fist on the inside. Not sure what drove her decision just now, but it feels like a milestone of sorts. One that she feels she can tackle with me. Makes me feel about ten fucking feet tall.
She jumps a little at the ding, announcing the elevator’s arrival, and her breathing speeds up.
“Doesn’t have to be today,” I gently remind her when the doors slide open.
“Today,” she firmly says, lifting up her chin and pressing her lips tight as she determinedly leads the way inside. I stand close, still holding her hand, which has grown decidedly clammy and is crushing the blood from mine. She squeezes her eyes closed when I hit the button for the lobby.
“Ruby. Sweets, look at me,” I coax her when we start moving. Her panicked eyes shoot open and zoom in on mine. “Keep your eyes on me and breathe slower. You’re hyperventilating. Just easy in and out, like this.”
For what arguably is the longest elevator ride of my life, we breathe in tandem until the doors open on the ground floor. I let her exit in front of me but swing her around when I step off. Cupping her head with my hands, I tilt her face up and smile down at her. “Now that took balls,” I compliment her, relieved to see her smile. “Proud of you, Boop.” Her little eye-roll is cute as shit, so I kiss her in the middle of the lobby and damned if she doesn’t kiss me right back.
-
I never thought of grocery shopping as anything but a necessary evil, but grocery shopping with Ruby was something else altogether. After her initial hesitation when we first walked in, she was like a kid in a candy store. When she tossed coffee filters and some real coffee in the cart, I couldn’t resist dramatically rolling my eyes heavenward and making a sign of the cross. I’d never heard Ruby laugh before and the sound and sight of it was pretty damn special.
The cart was about full when we got to the register and we had a brief tussle over who was paying for what. I won, but only after assuring her that giving someone a housewarming present—which I had labeled it—was a normal custom.
“How about this,” I suggest to her when we are buckling in. “We run over to my house, quickly unload my things and then back to your apartment. After that I’ll walk you to work.”
“Isn’t it easier just to drop me off with my bags and take yours home with you?” she asks me, eyebrows raised and a half-finished danish partway to her mouth. That had been an impulse purchase at the counter of the coffee shop next door, when I discovered she hadn’t eaten yet. Best purchase ever, because with every bite of the flaky pastry, crumbs would stick to her lips and her little red tongue would dart out for a cleaning sweep. Sweet torture.
“Not really,” I manage, watching her take another bite before tearing my eyes away to focus on driving. “I’m meeting Gunnar at ten-thirty at the pub.”
After yesterday’s talk with Ike and then Mark, I wanted to pass my ideas by Gunnar as well. Having run his own business for many years, I want his take on my preliminary ideas. I actually need his advice on the business part of things, because if I do this, I want to do it right.
From the corner of my eye, I see Ruby looking at me with curiosity. “I’ll explain when we get to my place,” I tell her.
It takes less than five minutes to put away the groceries in the kitchen, then I take her hand and pull her toward the dining table. I can’t help stroke my hand over the smooth finish. It had been a labor of love, made with old barn wood I had gotten my hands on and assembled with only glue, dowels, dovetail joints, and random butterfly splines. Not a screw in sight. The result was a beautiful, rustic harvest table.
“See this table? I made this,” I proudly say to her, watching her eyes widen in surprise. “I used to work with my dad in his wood shop all the time as a kid and always loved making things with my hands. I like it, I’m pretty good at it, and I want to see if I can turn it into a business.”
Ruby slowly walks around the table, every so often bending down to check a detail up close, and in doing so, affording me a nice view of her backside. Between that and the furtive licks of her lips in the car, I’m hard enough to hammer nails. She stops on the other side of the table, bending at the waist and running her hands lightly over its surface.
“It’s beautiful.” She smiles up at me, without any awareness of the effect she has on me.
Christ. Time to get out of here before I do something drastic, like bend her over that table. “Thanks.” I manage a smile. “Anyway, that’s what I’m seeing Gunnar about. I’m hoping he can help me get a business plan together.” With my hand in the small of her back, I lead her firmly to the door, and out of my house.
Ruby
“Hey, Ruby?”
I turn around from the pile of veggies I’ve been cutting for the last hour. Since my disastrous attempt to manage the kitchen during Dino’s weekend off, I’ve been thrown into full on prep duty. Basic kitchen training 101. I’m not complaining, I love how even here in the pub, the kitchen seems to be the center of the universe. Just like I remember from growing up on the farm.
Tim is leaning against the doorpost, the hint of a smile on his face. “Just wanted to let you know I’m off,” he says, slowly straightening up and moving toward me. He doesn’t stop until his body almost touches the length of mine. “What time are you
done?” he asks, as he plucks the large knife from my hand, and lays it on the counter, before slipping his arms around me. Almost without thought, my hands come up to rest on his chest.
“Uhh...I think nine. Not sure,” I mumble against his lips, as I pull his mouth down on mine. All rational thought is gone the moment he takes over the kisses. For someone with zero experience kissing, I’ve sure become addicted fast. When he raises his head, I lift my mouth for more.
“Nine tonight but you’re off tomorrow, Ruby,” Viv’s amused voice cuts through the kiss induced haze, and has me trying to jump out of Tim’s hold, but he doesn’t budge. His eyes never leave mine, even as I peek around his shoulder to find Viv dropping her bag on the kitchen table, a big smile on her face.
“Good,” Tim’s deep voice rumbles as he presses a kiss to my hair. “I’ve gotta go see my folks today. Have some groveling to do for disappearing on them, but I’ll be back at nine to walk you home. Tomorrow it’s Chiles Renellos.” With a last squeeze of his arms around me, he lets me go and starts walking out the kitchen. I haven’t even opened my mouth yet.
“But...” I try when he’s about to disappear out the door. “You don’t have to...”
“I’m walking you home, Boop,” he says firmly. “Anything changes, just give me a call. Okay?”
“I don’t know your number,” I blurt out, instead of insisting I can walk home on my own.
Tim takes two steps back inside and holds out his hand. “Where’s your phone? I’ll program it.”
“I don’t have one,” I explain to him. I’ve never had one. There was never a need, since there was no one to call. There’d been a phone at Florence House, just like there’s one at the apartment. For emergencies. It just never occurred to me someone might want to be able to reach me. Tears burn my eyes when I take in Viv and Tim, understanding softening their faces.
“Right,” Tim softly says, moving up to me. With his index finger he traces a path from my hairline down to the tip of my nose. “We’ll get that sorted soon. My number is up on the board in Gunnar’s office, if you need me.”