Page 33 of Heart & Hope

When the water turns on and she sighs, I roll over and drag my hands down my face. I stare at the horrid baby-puke-coloredupholstery and try to count the threads in each inch. Like that will save me. I fill my mind with anything that I hate.

Harry’s tax papers.

Seeing Mack off on another tour.

Disappointing Ma.

Nothing douses the fire that is building in my core, not even that last one. Or dulls the thunder of the blood bounding through my ears. When the tap squeaks and Ruby curses, I roll back and shove my hands under my head, closing my eyes.

“Reed?”

Shit.

“Reed? Can you grab me a towel off the bed? I forgot it.”

My heart hammers as I glance at the rolled-up white towels on the queen-size bed. Of the two that were there, one remains. I roll off the sofa and stride to the bed and swipe up the towel. When I reach the bathroom door, I knock on the wall beside it. “You decent?”

Sweet Jesus, you idiot, Reed.

“Um, no? But I’m freezing. Towel!”

I hold the towel around the doorjamb. I hear as she sweeps the curtain back and steps onto the tile. The towel is tugged from my hand, and I hear the rustle of her wrapping it over her body. I rest my forehead on the wall and suck in a breath. The door opens, and Ruby steps out, hands twisting her wet hair into a messy bun on her head. I push off the wall.

Water droplets sit on her elegant shoulders. Her brown eyes find mine, and she smiles. “Thanks, didn’t want to have to streak across the room for it.”

I drag my gaze from her neck and jaw to her eyes. “Huh?”

“The towel. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“You want to order in? The kitchen isn’t fully operational as yet, and I don’t think I can take any more Mary-Sue today.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” I say, but my voice is raw.

Ruby studies me. She steps closer and then eliminates the space between us. “Thank you, for this.”

I dip my chin, taking her in. So close, I can smell her skin. The fire in my core from earlier roars back to life. How the hell am I going to be in close quarters with Ruby Robbins and survive?

“You’re welcome, baby.” Now my voice is pure gravel.

And she notices.

“Reed . . .”

I put space between us. Dragging her down with my pitiful existence was not part of the Reed-and-Ruby fake marriage deal. She deserves so much better.

I drop onto the sofa and pluck the takeout menu from the small table beside it. I’m looking at the words, but none make sense. I wait for the pounding behind my ribs and the fire in my veins to peter out. And when I can finally breathe without feeling like I’m gasping for air, I run my eyes over the options.

“Steak and veg for me, well done, Diane sauce.”

I hand her the menu. She takes it, and her fingers brush over my hand.

“Sure, what’s good on here?”

After a minute, she chooses a chicken salad and a bottle of white and calls it in, still in her towel. I grab my phone from the side table and check my messages. One from Ma, wishing me and Ruby a fantastic weekend. Poor Ma, she’s gonna get her hopes up about this. One from Huddo, says he needs a few things for the barn at my place.

I send back responses to both and lock the screen, returning the phone to the table when Ruby steps out of the bathroom, dressed in her PJs, her hair almost dry and loose around her shoulders. She’s beautiful, even in her PJs.

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