“I trust in your ability to make your bed however you see fit.”
She stops flipping, jabbing her finger at the page. “You have instructions on how to use the washer and dryer.”
“This is coming from someone who got stuck in the shower because she couldn’t figure out how to adjust the temperature or work the jets. Besides, they can be difficult to figure out.” It took me three loads to get what was going on at first.
“I’m more of a visual learner. Why don’t you show me all this stuff? Do you have a checklist? Maybe a star chart? I can have dessert when I earn five stars.” Her eyes light up with the same mischief I caught a glimpse of when she was playing with Francesca on my bed.
I spend the next hour going over everything in the house, from where to dispose of the garbage to how to use the TV remote, to where to find Francesca and Tiny’s food. Ruby appears as if she’s paying close attention. When she has a question she puts her hand on my arm and looks up at me with wide, inquisitive eyes.
I’m in the middle of showing her where to find the pots and pans should she want to cook when she walks away from me.
“Um, what is this?” She taps the table across from Tiny’s terrarium.
“It’s an answering machine.”
“What year is it from? Nineteen-eighty?”
She’s probably pretty close.
“It even has the mini-cassette tape!” She appears flabbergasted. “You have a cell phone, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Then why do you have this?” Ruby picks it up and it takes everything in me not to freak out and tear it out of her hands.
Instead I gently pry the machine away from her and set it carefully back on the table, brushing away any dust or fingerprints. “It’s nostalgic.”
“Because you were born at the end of the decade?” She’s sort of poking fun, but her voice is soft, and she seems more curious now than anything.
“It was my grandmother’s. She’d had it forever. The tapes were so hard to find so I figured I would try to teach her how to use a cell phone. She kept saying no, and I kept trying to persuade her.”
“Did you?”
I nod. “I told her we could play poker against each other all the time and she was sold.”
Ruby laughs. “She’s a card shark?”
“She was.”
“It sounds like you’re close.”
“We were. She passed away last year.” I’d been away at the time and almost missed the funeral, much like I’d missed a lot of things relating to my family. That’s why I’m glad to be back in New York.
“I’m so sorry.” Ruby reaches out and puts her hand on my arm, giving it a soft squeeze.
“Me, too. She was a great woman. She was the mastermind behind the whole hotel empire, although my grandfather took all the glory for that. Anyway, when we were cleaning out her place I found the answering machine and took it. It was one of those things . . . I should probably get rid of it, but . . .”
“I think it’s sweet.”
“Hardly anyone calls me on that line. My mother sometimes does. There’s a manual in here if you run into issues.” I tap her hip and she shifts to the side. I open the drawer and show her the dog-eared manual in the Ziploc bag.
Her nose crinkles. “Maybe I’ll just leave this one alone.”
I lean against the counter behind me. “That’s probably best, and if there are any real issues you can always call, text, or email.”
“It might be easier than going through this.” She pats the binder tucked under her arm. “Unless there’s an appendix and a quick reference guide.”
When I say nothing, she moves to stand beside me, her arm brushing mine as she sets the binder on the counter and flips to the back page, where there is, indeed, a quick reference guide, but only for the most major of potential issues, such as Francesca getting ill or the fire alarm going off in my condo, both of which I sincerely hope don’t happen.
“Wow. You’re uh . . . super organized, aren’t you?”
I shrug. “I just like to be prepared.”
She shifts, angling her body toward me. I’m quite a bit taller than she is, so I get a nice peek at her cleavage. “Were you a Boy Scout?”
“I spent a few years in Cadets.”
“Ah. So you’re very disciplined, then?”
“I guess.” I suppose in some ways I am. As an athlete, I had to constantly push myself, especially when I was injured.
“Does that mean in addition to being organized, you’re a rule follower?”
“It depends, I suppose.”
“On what?”
“Whether I like the rule or not.”
She laughs. “So you just like to enforce them? Not follow?”
“Something like that.”
Ruby pinches the sleeve of my T-shirt between two fingers and lifts it until she reaches the edge of my tattoo. “This seems pretty anti-rule to me.”
“It’s hardly anti-rule anymore. Everyone has tattoos these days.”
“I don’t.”
“I bet you’ve thought about getting one, though.” I imagine it would be something small. Not like mine.
Ruby shrugs. “If I did it would have to be somewhere I could hide it.”
“Like your hip?” I tap the spot with a finger, then quickly retract my hand when she jumps a little.
“I guess, and then what’s the point of wearing art if no one else gets to see it?”
“You’d see it every day, and I’m sure someone would get to see it, eventually.”
“But only when I’m wearing a bikini, or maybe not even then.”
“Or when you’re naked,” I supply.
Ruby leans in a little closer, until her chest is an inch from mine. She has to tip her chin up in order to maintain eye contact. If I didn’t have a better handle on my hormones I might be tempted to lean down and kiss her. But my dick is not in control of my brain right now. Mostly.
Her voice comes out low and sultry. “You realize this is the second time you’ve referenced me being naked since I’ve been here.”
“Are you keeping track?”
She fingers the strap of her tank. “I’m just noting your apparent obsession with me being naked.”
“I’m just providing helpful suggestions; you’re the one making it about nudity.”
She scoffs and backs up a step, which is unfortunate, I could’ve sworn I felt her nipples brush my chest a second ago. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part. It’s not as if I’m going to say no to her if she happens to make a move. I just don’t think I should be the one to make the move being that I assaulted her in a hallway and just moved her into my condo.
“You’re putting an awful lot of thought into a tattoo I’m never going to get.”
“Never say never.”
“I hate needles and I have no interest in letting someone I don’t know put their hands that close to my . . . my . . .”
“Your?” I prompt.
She ducks her head and mumbles, “My special place.”
I laugh. “Your special place?”
“Shut it.” She pushes on my chest and I grab her hand.
“You can do better than that.” I should really stop, because this is its own special brand of torment for my cock, but I really want to hear her say something dirty.
“You mean like my who-ha? Lady garden? Love tunnel, Precious flower? Or do you mean slit.” She drags out the s, then runs her tongue across her bottom lip. “No, not slit, you’re probably more of a pussy lover, aren’t you?”
“Fuckin’ right I am.” Maybe I don’t give a shit about complications. I’m still holding her wrist, and she’s not making a move to get away. I bow my head, inches away from that sexy, naughty mouth. Her eyes lift to mine and her lips part. She wants this. Fuck it.
I’m about to take it when my goddamn phone rings. It’s enough to break the tension. Ruby steps back, eyes darting away, head dropping, as I mutter a curse and check the
contact. It’s my father. “I have to take this.”
“Of course.” Her hand flutters to her throat and she gives me a nervous smile. I answer the call and walk across the room, to the office, adjusting my hard-on, which has returned with a vengeance. I rubbed one out in the shower, but it looks like I’m going to have to do that again after I go to bed.
My conversation with my father is brief and unnecessary as far as I’m concerned. When I return to the living room I half expect her to have disappeared into her room for the night on account of my behavior. She hasn’t. Instead she’s reclining in her dilapidated lounger balancing a cup of Tiramisu on her stomach. A second dessert sits on the coffee table in front of the couch. I assume it’s for me.
“I figured I earned all my stars so I was allowed to have dessert. But I waited for you, just to make sure.”
I get another one of her impish grins, which is a relief. I could’ve made things awkward if I’d let my dick take control again. “You probably deserve both of these.” I drop my phone on the coffee table, beside my dessert and flop down on the couch. “Sorry about that. Last minute pre-trip conversations.”
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah. My father likes to micromanage.”
“That seems to be a pretty common father trait,” Ruby says.
“Sounds like you’re familiar with that.”
“There’s a reason I’m here and he lives in Rhode Island. Well, one of the reasons, anyway.” She smiles and drops her gaze. “So you and Armstrong are pretty close?”
It’s an abrupt change of topic, clearly talking about her father is as unpleasant for her as is talking about mine right now. “We went to the same prep school. Our parents spent a lot of time with each other, so it sort of forced us together, if that makes sense.” Armstrong and I are close in some respects, but he does a lot of things that irk me. If I had to work with him I’d probably punch him in the face. Often. He’s an overbearing prick at the best of times.
Ruby cocks her head to the side, like she’s seeking the deeper meaning in my tone. “Are you in the wedding party?”
“I am. So are you, aren’t you?”
“I’m Amie’s maid of honor. I’m surprised I didn’t meet you at the engagement party, before the uh . . . bathroom run-in.”
“I was tucked away in a corner, not feeling all that well most of the evening. I guess we’ll be spending a lot of time together when the wedding plans get underway.”
“Mmm. That we will.”
Now it’s my turn to assess her tone. “You don’t seem all that excited.”
“About the wedding?” Ruby lifts one shoulder. “It’s just really fast. I mean, I guess when you know, you know, but Amie has never been one to jump into things, well not this kind of thing, so this feels a little . . . rushed.”
Armstrong is an intense person. When he sees something he wants, he goes after it, not always considering the rashness of his actions. In the past it’s created some conflict, particularly with my brother Lexington, as they often seem to have an affinity for the same type of women. My other brother, Griffin, is the only one of the three of us with a stable relationship history. But then he’s the oldest, so that makes sense, I suppose. “You’ve told Amalie this?”
Her expression becomes incredulous. “Of course not. I’m not going to rain on her parade. I’m probably just being overprotective. We’ve been friends for a long time. I just want her to be happy.”
“And you think she is?”
“She seems that way.”
“But—” I prompt.
“But nothing, I guess. I’ll support her no matter what, even if dealing with Armstrong’s mother is going to give me an ulcer.”
I laugh. “Gwendolyn can be challenging.”
“Any tips you might have would be greatly appreciated.”
“Don’t let her smell your fear.”
Ruby snorts. “Awesome. Thanks. So she’s exactly like a tarantula.”
She dips her spoon into her dessert and daintily brings it to her mouth, full lips parting. She moans her appreciation. “This is ridiculously delicious.”
“They have the best desserts.”
“I’d forgo the actual dinner part and just order six of these next time.” She digs her spoon in and takes a much larger, more decadent bite. Her head falls back and her eyes drift close. “Seriously, Bancroft. This is amazing.”
I’m a big fan of the way my name sounds coming out of her mouth. Apparently so is my dick, since he’s trying to give her a wave from inside my shorts. That reprieve didn’t last very long. “I’ll leave the takeout menu for you.”
“I may eat nothing else for the next five weeks if you do that.”
When she’s halfway through her dessert, she sighs and lifts her gaze.
I haven’t been eating my own, more than entertained watching her. “So you said no boyfriend, right? You’re not even casually dating anyone?”
She stops with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “What?”
Shit. That’s not a random question I can just throw out there without having a reason for asking it. I flounder for a second, trying to come up with something that makes sense. “Or friends you plan to entertain while you’re here?”
“Oh, uh . . . just Amie I guess. And of course the two hundred people I invited to the kegger tomorrow.” She wags her eyebrows.
I tap my spoon on the edge of my dessert and give her a rueful smile in return. “Right. Can’t forget that.”
She regards me speculatively. “Would you prefer it if I don’t have guests?”
If they’re male, yes, I definitely prefer she doesn’t have them here, but I’m not about to say that aloud. That makes me sounds like a territorial asshole, which I have no right to be. “No, no. It’s fine, but I’d prefer you don’t give out the entry code.”
“Of course not. I won’t leave any strays unattended.” Her grin is impish. “Is there anyone who has the code who might pop by, other than the cleaning lady?”
“Just my brothers and immediate family, but they don’t have a reason to stop by if I’m not here.”
She taps the arm of her chair and regards me for a few seconds. “So . . . that woman you were with at the engagement party, I’m guessing she’s not your girlfriend or anything? I don’t need to worry about her freaking out because another woman is living in your condo?”
“You mean Brittany? Uh, no. She’s definitely not my girlfriend.”
“Good to know.”
“With all the travel a girlfriend hasn’t been all that practical.”
She cocks her head. “What do you mean?”
“When I played professional rugby I was on the road a lot. And now it seems like I’ll be on the road more than I anticipated. At least for a while. It makes it difficult to get involved.”
“Ah. I understand. Theater is challenging like that, too. The hours are odd since performances are typically in the evenings and on the weekends. Unless you’re dating another actor it’s not very practical.” She dips her spoon in her dessert again. “So that Brittany chick was just meant to be a hookup then?”
I’m sure Brittany would’ve been good with the hookup part, but I don’t mention that to Ruby. “I went out with her as a favor.”
She grimaces. “Wow, that’s some favor.”
“She’s not that bad.” I’m not sure why I’m defending Brittany, other than it seems to irritate Ruby.
“She called me a slut!”
“Well, you were kissing me, so . . .” I have to bite back the smile at her incredulity.
She points her spoon at me, her annoyance clear. “You kissed me.”
I shift an arm behind my head. “You didn’t put up much of a fight.”
Her mouth drops open and snaps shut just as quickly. It’s the same reaction I got out of her the other day when I brought the same thing up at the restaurant.
Her eyes narrow into slits. I bet she’s a real firecracker when she’s angry. I sort of
want to push her buttons just to see what happens when she goes off. I bet angry fucking with her would be incredible. I wonder if she’s a hair puller, or a biter, or a scratcher. Wow. That got dirty fast.
She narrows her eyes. “We are not talking about this.”
“About you kissing me back? I wasn’t going to bring it up, but now that we’re on the subject—”
“Consider it un-brought-up.” Her cheeks flush.
I can’t help myself. I keep pushing. “No way. You as much as admitted that you kissed me back, right there. You opened the door. I’m walking through it. Why would you kiss a complete stranger?”
“I said I wasn’t talking about this.” The pink in her cheeks rises to the tips of her ears.
This is way too much fun. She’s got one hell of an angry glare going on. “I’m leaving you in my house for more than a month, alone. I need to be certain you have sound judgment.”
“I’ll have you know my judgment is usually very sound. However, when an incredibly attractive man surprises me with his tongue in my mouth, the most logical response is to kiss back.”
“You think I’m incredibly attractive?”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course that’s the part you choose to focus on. You see yourself in the mirror every day. You can’t tell me you don’t know you’re nice to look at. I’m just stating a fact.”
My ego inflates a little at this. I know I’m not unattractive, but my nose has been broken a couple of times, and there’s a bump I can’t ever get rid of without plastic surgery. I’ve had knee surgery and I’m not great under anesthetic, so I’d prefer to avoid that scenario. I also have a few small facial scars from playing rugby all those years, which, in the environment I grew up in, takes me down a few points on the desirability scale. Not that I give a fuck. It’s my mother who seems to be worried about it, as she does about every line and gray hair. It’s a blessing I don’t have any sisters.
“I see. So you’re telling me if any incredibly attractive man did what I did, you’d respond the exact same way.”
“Now you’re generalizing. It’s circumstantial.”
“What do you mean by circumstantial?”
“Well, I guess I assumed you had to be a guest at the engagement party.”
The Shacking Up Series Page 11