“If I told you I’m not like most guys, it would sound like a line.”
She looked at him without blinking. “Try giving me a straight answer,” she said point-blank. “All I’m asking is why? Why does he mean so much to you? Why do you want him to be yours?”
“If I took the time to analyze that, I would have to take the time to analyze why I’m glad you were out with Chelsea and Abby tonight.”
Her chin came up as if she’d caught something between the eyes. “Oh,” she said. And then, “O-o-o-h.”
She took a sip of her watered-down drink, and he took a moment to consider the best way to explain. “I assured my brother that you and I have talked about this, and are in complete agreement that neither of us has any intention of pursuing, er, anything.”
“Because you’re looking for a needle in a haystack and I’m not looking at all.”
“Yes,” he said, although he couldn’t seem to stop looking. “Ruby?”
She put her glass down. Waited.
“Resisting this isn’t working.”
“But of course it is,” she argued.
“When I just now saw you looking at me from the other side of that downed rope, I wouldn’t have remembered my name if someone had asked. I don’t remember how I got from there to here. That zing overruled my resistance. Marsh brought the reason to my attention earlier. What we resist persists.”
She sat up a little straighter, her eyes on his. “I wouldn’t have pegged your brother as a philosopher, but I’m listening.”
Absently rubbing his right shoulder, Reed said, “You probably noticed we seem to keep running into each other. You’ve been in Orchard Hill a matter of days. How many times have we found ourselves in the same place at the same time? What does tonight make? Four times? Five?”
“Five, but—”
“So you’re counting, too. Ruby, would you just stop and consider this? What if Marsh has a point? What if it’s true?”
“Okay,” she said a little too quickly. “For argument’s sake, let’s say there’s something to your brother’s assessment, and it’s possible that the more we resist, the more this—” she motioned from her to him and back again “—persists. What do you suggest we do about it?”
“We disarm and disable the attraction,” he said.
“How?”
“We stop resisting.” He caught her looking at his mouth. And then she leaned down and did something to her foot under the table.
“Of course,” she sputtered. “That sounds easy enough. Why didn’t you say so? But how, pray tell, do you propose we do that?”
Because he couldn’t help noticing how full her lower lip looked when she was being sarcastic, he said, “We delve directly past kissing. All the way.”
She opened her mouth to speak, closed it and tried again. “All the way?”
“Allow me to rephrase.” Leaning closer so no one around them would hear, he said, “How often do we go out with somebody only to wind up just friends in the end? A woman who looks as good as you do knows the drill. You meet someone, go out, take it to the next level and maybe you take it slow or maybe it’s one fell swoop. Either way, eventually you start to notice tiny annoyances. Pretty soon they’re big red flags.”
She shrugged, nodded, silently agreeing he had a point.
And he continued, “What if you and I skip dating, skip the frenzy, skip the marathon and go directly to the finish line?”
Ruby found herself holding her breath. Okay, enough.
Gongs were going off inside her skull. She had to stop for a sec. She had to think. Breathing would be good. Slipping her shoe off, she absently rubbed her right big toe on her left calf and thought about the road to relationships Reed was describing.
“What exactly constitutes the finish line for you?” she asked.
He groaned quietly. “Contrary to how that sounded, I’m talking about friendship.”
Oh. Well. Huh.
Leaning back in her chair, she thought about the frenzy of a new romance, the buildup and the expectations and the elation, the strategizing and all the energy expended for something that ultimately fizzled out or went sour. Reed had made a strong argument for the pro side of the just-friends debate. On the one hand it sounded absurd. Absurdity aside, she believed in the pull of the moon and the power of Venus in retrograde. She believed destiny was the mapmaker but it was the choices people made that determined their path. She also believed that sometimes there was a moment, just one moment, that changed everything. Reed had a word for that moment. Zing.
Something else he’d said had struck a chord in her. He’d admitted that he didn’t remember walking over to her. She’d experienced a similar sensation when she’d first seen him tonight. It was as if someone had pushed the mute button on the big picture. Sound ceased and everyone in the courtyard at Murphy’s disappeared.
Except him.
He was right about something else, too. They did keep running into one another, and each time the connection was stronger. Could it be that resisting only intensified the magnetic pull?
“I expected you to have more to say,” he pointed out.
“Do you really believe we can be friends?” she asked.
“I don’t see how we can help being friends, Ruby.”
“Are you proposing that we stop resisting and go directly to BFFs?”
He shook his head the way men did when dealing with certain types of women, maybe all types of women, and then said, “A person can never have too many friends, right?”
An argument broke out at a nearby table and a waitress counting the minutes until her shift was over delivered Reed’s pizza. While she trudged on over to investigate the ruckus, Reed asked, “Do you have any thoughts or questions about anything, Ruby?”
She spent a moment in quiet deliberation. “Actually, I do have one.”
“Fire away.”
“Did you really French-kiss Abby’s sister?”
He didn’t even try to hide his surprise. His golden eyebrows shot up and his storm-cloud eyes widened. “Abby told you about that?”
“She said you choirboys are the ones we have to watch out for.”
“That right? I was never in the choir.”
Reed Sullivan had classic bone structure and a mouth made for rakish grins. He accepted the responsibility of caring for an abandoned baby and he saved people from speeding freight trains, or scooters, whatever the case may be. If he said he’d never been a choirboy, she believed him.
“You were saying about Abby’s sister,” she prodded.
“Bailey and I were doing homework and had no idea her bratty kid sister was hiding in the closet. I’d made my move before I heard Abby snicker. She extorted money from both Bailey and me and promised it would be our little secret. Then Abby demonstrated what she’d seen in front of her class during show-and-tell the very next day. It was the only time I was ever called to the principal’s office.”
“How old were you?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Fifth or sixth grade, I guess.”
“That old?” she said as an Elton John song began to play.
“I was a late bloomer.” His smile started in his eyes, spreading pleasantly across the rest of his face.
He was a wise guy, she thought, a tall polished wise guy with a dash of heroism and a vein of the uncivilized running through him. Scooting her chair back when he did, they both got up.
“What exactly do you do with your friends who happen to be women?” she asked. “My turn to rephrase. What constitutes friendship in your book? I guess I’m a little fuzzy on the next step.”
“It can be whatever you want. Do you need fifty bucks until payday? Someone to let your dog out? Do you have any furniture that needs moving or help with heavy lifting in general?”
She raised her right arm and made a muscle. “Have you seen these guns? I don’t have a dog and I still have the first dollar I ever earned.”
“You can’t think of anything you need help with?” He was serious.
“Not off the top of my head. I guess I’ll have to think about it and let you know.”
She looked up slightly. He looked down slightly. And they both smiled.
“Friends,” he said.
“Friends,” she agreed.
They shook on it, a handshake between friends. Then they parted company, Reed with his fresh hot pizza in his right hand and Ruby with her oversize bag on her shoulder. Neither of them mentioned the vibration they couldn’t quite brush away.
* * *
Sawing. Drilling. Pounding. Crashing.
It was Monday, and the renovations at the tavern were well under way. The drop ceiling was lying in hundreds, if not thousands, of pieces on the floor. A carpenter in a tool belt was manning a vicious-looking saw, and two others were swinging hammers. More clanking and banging was coming from the restrooms, where the plumber was working on leaky pipes.
Ruby stood in the midst of it all, looking up at the dust sifting down from the rafters. The two guys on the ladders were responsible for the demolition. The tall one in charge looked down at her from his perch. “You need to put a hard hat on if you’re going to stay. There’s an extra one in the back of the truck. And watch out for upturned boards with nails sticking out.”
In other words, she needed to get out of the way.
The electrician would come as soon as the demo work was complete, tomorrow most likely. And then the carpenters would return and the painters would work their magic. Finally the floors would be refinished. If everything went according to plan, the upgrades would run like clockwork.
Ruby’s phone made the sound it always made when a text came in. Fishing it out of her back pocket, she carefully stepped around the debris without running a nail through the sole of her tennis shoes, which would have meant a trip to the emergency room and probably a tetanus shot, too, and strolled to the hallway leading to the restrooms.
It was from Amanda. And like the twenty-five previous texts from Ruby’s best friend back home, it ended with C U @ the reunion.
They’d been at this for days. The first time, Ruby had replied, I’m coming down with a cold. Probably pneumonia. Or a tumor.
I’ll be sure and pick up some vitamin C U @ the reunion.
Another time she’d typed, What’s that? Reception’s bad here.
Error. Excuse only valid on actual calls. C U @ the reunion.
Around the fifteenth text, Ruby had typed, You kids have fun.
We’re going to. C U @ the reunion. PS Found a date yet?
Ten minutes ago, Ruby had texted, Are you a stalker? Do I know you?
Wondering what witticism Amanda would send next, Ruby veered around a pile of lumber in the hallway. A loud clank and mild swearing carried through the open door of one of the restrooms.
She read the latest text from Amanda as she went. Luv U. C U @ the reunion.
Ruby typed, Now you’re playing dirty.
It’s why you luv me, 2. C U @ the reunion.
Ruby did love her BFF. She’d always been lucky in the friend department. Her old friends in Gale had been supportive through the whole Cheater Peter debacle. Ruby didn’t take infidelity lightly. She didn’t take friendship lightly, either. She and her college roommate did a destination get-together once a year; she kept in touch with her friends in L.A., too. The new friends she’d made in Orchard Hill were turning out to be the kind with lasting-friendship potential, as well.
On Facebook, she’d liked the story Abby covered about ghost sightings at a local inn. And while she’d been waiting for Chelsea at the restaurant yesterday, Ruby had sent Reed the picture she snapped of the bulletin board where a note from a licensed day-care provider had been tacked. She’d seen him driving by a few hours before and returned his friendly wave.
Friends, she thought. A girl really couldn’t have too many of them.
She reached the end of the hallway and noticed that the doors of the restrooms had been propped open. The bathrooms here had cracked tile floors and rust-stained sinks and corroded faucets. Those were their good features. The lights were on in both poorly lit spaces, but the clanking was coming from the ladies’ room. She strode to the doorway with the intention of checking the plumber’s progress, only to spin around.
It was too late. The image had been lasered onto the insides of her eyelids. Rubbing them didn’t blur the picture she now carried of said plumber’s, er, well, there was no pretty word for that part of an overweight man’s anatomy.
Criminy. Humans had the capability to send messages around the world at the speed of light via computers that fit in the palms of their hands. And yet no one had been successful in designing a belt that could hold up a plumber’s jeans.
She was still grimacing when her phone chirruped. It wasn’t a text this time but an actual call.
It was Reed.
“Quick,” she said, stepping into the alley outside. “Say something to erase what I just mistakenly witnessed in the ladies’ room here at Bell’s.”
“I thought you had an eidetic memory,” he said.
“I didn’t say your job was going to be easy.”
He laughed, but it sounded tense.
“I hear Joey crying,” she said, squinting in the sudden brightness outdoors. “That’s good, right? It’s not good that he’s crying, but the fact that he’s crying at your place means your meeting with the judge went well.” When Reed said nothing, she added, “Did it go well?”
“We’ve been granted another week’s reprieve. So far the judge hasn’t decided Joey would be better off in foster care than with Marsh and me. When it comes to deciding what’s best for minor children, the court system is holding all the cards.”
Ruby had heard horror stories about small children being literally ripped out of their parents’ arms by a well-meaning social worker. No wonder he and Marsh were worried.
He must have picked Joey up because now it sounded as if the baby was crying directly in Ruby’s ear. “It’s one o’clock,” she said, wondering how Reed could possibly hear her, or anything else, for that matter. “I thought you and Marsh were interviewing a potential nanny at one.”
“Marsh went to Tennessee with Sam. The woman from the agency isn’t here yet. Tardiness. Strike one.”
“What’s wrong with Joey?” she asked.
“What? Hold on.” He must have moved his phone to his other ear. “What did you say?”
“I was just wondering why Joey’s crying.” Her ear was ringing. She could only imagine what all that wailing was doing to Reed’s.
“Good question. He ate. He burped. He isn’t wet. He does this sometimes. Not often, thank God. Wait. I think someone drove in.”
The crying continued. Gosh, the kid sure had a set of lungs.
“False alarm,” Reed said. “No one’s here.”
Ruby imagined Reed walking the baby from room to room, jiggling him, patting him, doing everything he could to soothe him. “Have you tried singing to him?” she asked.
“What do you think started all this?”
She smiled, and imagined him smiling, too. “Did you call for any particular reason?” she asked.
“I’m killing time. I wondered if you’ve thought of anything you’d like help with.”
“Not yet,” she answered.
The waaa-waaa-waaaaing continued. “The woman you’re interviewing still isn’t there?”
“No.”
“How long will Joey keep this up?”
“I’ll have to ask him.”
Men, she thought. But this time she was sure she’d h
eard a smile in his voice. “Let me know what he says, okay?”
“I’ll do that.”
Joking aside, Reed and Marsh desperately needed to hire someone to help with Joey’s care, and in order to do that they needed to make a good impression. “You know, Reed,” she said, filling a plastic can with the hose and watering the parched petunias in the barrel at the bottom of her stairs. “It might be divine providence that that woman’s late. If Joey is screaming like a banshee when she drives up, she might run the other way.”
“I feel better, thanks.”
Laughing, she set the empty watering can inside the door and looked at the dust settling on the ladder leaning up against the wall and the lumber stacked underneath it. Reed and Marsh needed the help of professionals as much as she did. Feeling in the way here, she had an idea.
“Reed?”
Silence. Well, not total silence. Joey was still screaming.
“Reed? Can you hear me?”
But his attention was on Joey. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Something went soft inside her and she heard herself say, “I’ll be right there.”
Chapter Seven
Ruby lifted Joey a little higher against her chest and tried not to grimace. Those muscles she’d bragged about Friday night were getting quite a workout and her trainer weighed less than thirteen pounds. She might never be able to straighten her elbow again, but it was a small price to pay.
Checking their reflection in the mirror outside Reed’s den, she saw that Joey’s eyes were only half open and his cheek was scrunched where it lay against her shoulder. His little bow lips were puckered and a dark spot was forming on her shirt beneath them. He was almost asleep. Mission nearly accomplished.
She padded quietly from room to room in the sprawling hundred-year-old house, listening to the clear concise tones of Reed’s voice. He was in the process of conducting another interview in the kitchen.
A Bride by Summer Page 9