Page 27 of Recklessly Rogue

That wasn’t a huge stretch, though I haven’t been around many little boys. Iwasa little boy, though, and lived with two princes and three bodyguards. While our “bachelor pad” had expensive espresso machines, high thread count sheets, and a housekeeper when we lived in Florida, boys still like their toys, gross jokes, and junk food even when they’re in their late twenties.

Ruby takes a step towards me, and it almost seems subconscious. “Itiskind of a big deal. You’re a man. A stranger to them. But you did all of that to make their first night more comfortable?”

“I want April to feel that leaving was a good decision. She’s got to be scared. I’m sure she’s second-guessing everything. Maybe a bubble bath and some flannel pajamas will at least make her feel like she can relax tonight and that there are good things ahead.”

Ruby studies me with a tiny furrow between her brows. “So you understanding women and kids isn’t a shock. But how do you know what a woman leaving her husband or a kid leaving his dad is feeling?” She has a thoughtful look now as if it’s occurring to her that something deeper might be going on here.

I shake my head. “I don’t. I haven’t been in that exact situation myself. But I have been alone in a new place, by myself, wondering about my choices.”

I haven’t told Ruby about my childhood, my mom, what happened with my brother, or my relationship with my father. I’m not keeping it from her. We just haven’t gotten to that yet. Not that I’m eager to tell her, exactly. It’s not a happy story.

“And did new flannel pajamas make that situation better?” she finally asks.

I just lift one shoulder. “I don’t know. I didn’t have new flannel pajamas there.” I pause. Most of what I remember of being sent off to boarding school, dropped off by no one but our driver, was the gray cloudy sky, the gray stone walls of my private room, and how bloody cold everything was, literally and metaphorically. “But I’d had them one Christmas when I was younger. And I know when I finally got to a place where I was with people who wanted me and wanted to help me, it kind of felt like new flannel pajamas.”

The O’Gradys are definitely like soft, very colorful flannel pajamas. They are comforting and warm, and they never fail to make me smile.

I wonder how the king would feel about that metaphor.

He’d probably love it.

Ruby just stands there not responding for a long moment. Then she says, “I didn’t think about having anything here for them. April’s been taking care of herself and Elliot for a long time. She’s had Chris around, but he hasn’t been a lot of help, so I just told her to make herself at home and that she was welcome to anything in any cabinet or closet.”

I nod. “Because you’re used to women being able to take even the shittiest situation and make it better. It never occurred to you that she might need some bath salts because you and Scarlett never did.” I blow out a breath. “I wasn’t assuming that she couldn’t handle it.”

Ruby steps toward me again. “I didn’t think that’s what you meant. And the thing is, maybe Scarlett and I didn’tneedbath salts or flannel pajamas. But there were lots of nights that they still would’ve been really nice. We didn’t know what we were missing.”

My chest feels tight. I hate the idea that this woman spent so many years having to be tough. I recognize that all of that has made her into the woman that I respect and love, but I stillresent the fact that her life hasn’t been easy. And it’s fucking hard as hell to squelch the nearly constant urge I feel to make her life easy now.

Did I possibly project that in part onto April? Maybe. It is just a fact that I have the resources to make things better for the people around me, and when I know that someone needs something, it’s ridiculous for me not to provide it.

Before either of us can say anything more, there are footsteps on the staircase.

“Ruby,” a soft voice says.

We both turn.

April is slender and pale, with long blond hair that hangs in a thin braid over her shoulder and looks like she could easily pass for seventeen or eighteen, but the little boy hugging her leg has dark hair, big, brown eyes, and has a round face with chubby cheeks.

He looks like his father.

Ruby’s expression lightens. “Hi, guys.”

“We were upstairs. It was a little quieter up there,” April says carefully.

“We were playing games on my mom’s tablet,” Elliot tells me.

I assume April took her son upstairs to get away from the commotion Chris was causing at the front door. Or at least as far away as they could get.

“Definitely quieter up there,” Ruby agrees. “That’s where I take my tablet to play on and read too.”

Elliot nods. “Did you hear that man? He was so mad.”

I glance at April. She’s giving Ruby a look.

Okay, so Elliot doesn’t know the man banging on the front door was his dad. That’s probably good.

“I did,” Ruby said. “He was at the wrong house and Henry helped explain that and told him where he was supposed to be instead.”

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