Page 12 of Wild Card
“Good night?” I recognize his voice and roll my eyes.
“What the hell are you doing sitting here in the dark? You could have given me a heart attack.” I march straight for the back door so I can head up to my room. I just want to be alone so I can figure out what I’m doing with my life. I know I shouldn’t let it, but what Brett said about my mom is really getting to me. For the short time she lived here, everyone in town liked her. Him being mean about her because he was mad at me was unfair.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Ash must get up, because I hear his heavy boots against the wood floor, getting closer. “How was the fancy party, pretty girl?” I feel his breath against my face, and I don’t know why, but I will for him to touch me.
“I need to get to bed,” I whisper, closing my eyes and breathing him in; he smells like cigarettes, single malt, and danger. It’s a lethal combination, so why do I find it so appealing?
“This really is a sleepy little town, ain’t it?” He laughs to himself. “It’s only just past eleven, and the place is dead.”
“Ash, I’m tired, and don’t you have a clubhouse to hang out at?”
“Stay up; have a drink with me.” He gets even closer, so close that his lips are almost touching mine.
“I don’t think that's a good idea,” I whisper.
“It’s a terrible idea, but a lot of good things come outta bad choices. Why don’t you make me one of yours?”
“Because I don’t hook up with bikers.” I shove him out my way and head for the door.
“Ouch, you sure know how to sting a guy.” He moves again, this time to block the door, and I’m just about to tell him to move, but he flicks the light on.
“Ruby, what the fuck happened to your face?” That cocky smile I imagined would be on his face isn’t there. Instead, he looks very serious.
“Nothing happened.” I stare down at the floor because I’m a shit liar.
“Then how the hell do you have a fat lip?” He shocks me when he takes my chin between his index finger and thumb and forces my head up into the light so he can get a better look at it. “You need to tell me what happened.” He looks me dead in the eyes, forcefully.
“I don’t have to tell you anything.” I find a little sass despite everything that's happened tonight. “I don’t even know you. This is none of your business.”
“Bull shit.” Taking my hand, he drags me toward the bar, sits me on a barstool, then disappears behind it.
“What are you looking for?” I ask when he starts searching under its surface.
“What d’ya think I’m looking for? A first aid kit or something.”
“Ash, it’s really not that bad.” I shake my head. I really don’t need all this fuss.
“`Got it!” He slams it on the bar beside me, then pours two glasses of whiskey before joining me on the other side. “Drink this, you look like you need it.” He hands me the tumbler, then sets to work opening the box and taking out some cotton and the liquid alcohol.
“So, ya gonna tell me what happened?” he asks again, and I knock back the whiskey to avoid his question. “This is gonna sting,” he warns before dabbing the cotton to my lip. He wasn’t fucking lying. It stings like hell, and when I flinch, he uses his free hand to cradle my face and keep it in place.
I stare into his dark brown eyes while he takes care of me, and he starts to smile.
“Watcha lookin’ at?” he asks, staring right back at me and placing down the cotton once he’s done.
“I’m just surprised. Thank you.” I manage a smile back at him despite the fact it causes more stinging.
“You're welcome.” His voice comes out soft as he tucks my hair behind my ear again. This time, I appreciate how careful his fingers are, and for some unknown reason, my eyes fill up with tears.
“What happened, Rube?” he whispers, and when I close my eyes and a tear spills down my cheek, he catches it with his thumb.
“Rube? I don’t think we know each other well enough to–”
“Stop avoiding the question.Hedid this to ya, didn’t he?”
I feel sick just thinking about it.
“Ruby, if he hit yo–”
