Page 42 of On the Run
Dear Ruby,
Lord, honey, why would you? You say he loves you, and that’s a beautiful thing, but love is a lot like the Loch Ness Monster—everyone describes it a little differently, and it’s tough to know when you’ve found it, even if you squint. I think it looks a lot like someone who’ll stand up for you and your relationship, someone you’ll be able to count on in sickness and health for as long as you both shall live.
In general, precious, if you have to convince someone you’re worth their time, they’re not worth yours.
Best of luck,
Your favorite Auntie
* * *
Letit be stated for the record that my feelings were not hurt.
To be hurt, I would have to care what the giant with the blue eyes thought about me—a guy I’d met only the night before, who’d turned me down repeatedly for sex, who kept denying I was his soul mate like a broken record, and who went from kissing the shit out of me in the boat one minute, to treating me like a leper at a beauty pageant the second we reached the little dock on Menucha.
Yes, I’d kissed him.
Yes, that was inadvisable for many reasons.
Buthe’dkissedmethe second time, damn it. He didn’t have to act like I was the devious rake in one of those historical romances—which I readonlyto get in character as Aunt Hagatha, obviously—bent on seducing him at a ball and destroying his innocence.
“I don’t even waltz!” I grumbled aloud.
I’d been lying in the sunshine like turkey bacon under the broiler for the last hour. My tan lines were going to be ridiculous,and I didn’t want to contemplate what my hair was doing, but I’d been in Florida twenty-four hours and was basically Tom Hanks inCastawayby now, so I figured there was nothing for it but to acquire a volleyball and live like the locals.
“Uh, Toby? Do you want your water bottle or something?” Beale asked from farther down the dock, concern in his voice. “If you’re talking to yourself, you might be getting dehydr—”
“I’m fine,” I bit out. “Perfectly fine.”
Thiswas the reason I did not attempt to have adventures. All the adrenaline made me feel quite, quite fragile. It was also the reason why I kept to guys who knew exactly what they wanted—delightfully casual, amusing, mutually beneficial encounters—and I didn’t go around kissing hot guys in tiny blow-up raft-things that were susceptible to a “slow leak in one of the tubes,” whatever the fuck that meant, when they hit debris in the water.
Honestly, Beale wasn’t even that good-looking! He was tall, sure. With an enormous cock I couldn’t stop thinking about, yes. And beautifully muscular, certainly. But besides that…
I turned my head against the rough wood dock and regarded him through my sunglasses. He sat ten feet down the dock facing me with his gear bag open and a bunch of tools laid out around him, the inflatable upside down on the wooden planks between us.
That silly blue bandanna was still tied around his head, and his hair glinted gold in the sun. He’d taken off his T-shirt to dry the boat, for reasons I couldn’t fathom, and the sun gleamed off his freckled shoulders as his muscles bunched and rippled. His legs were folded up pretzel-style, like his limbs had never been told that someone so big shouldn’t be that bendy. A little frown played between his eyebrows, and he’d tucked his tongue between his teeth in concentration as he smoothed his hand over the boat, which should have looked dorky but didn’t. As he worked, he hummed a tune.
Okay, so I was lying. He was fucking gorgeous. He was also insanely capable—the kind of guy who could do anything, from animal removal, to yoga, to small watercraft repair, to calming me down with a whispered “you’re alright, you’re fine, I’ve got you” that was almost enough to make me wish that someone didhaveme. All in all, he was the total package…
If a person were interested in a total package.
Which I wasn’t.
And meanwhile, I’d reacted to this open friendliness by sharing… absolutely nothing at all, because that was my way. No man was an island, except me.
Even when I thought I owed someone.
Even when they’d asked very, very little of me except some minor details of my life and what circumstances had led me to co-opt half the space in the guest room bed.
I bit my lip and shifted the baseball hat lower on my head. I was pretty sure I was allergic to guilt; I fucking hated it.
There were very compelling reasons why I couldn’t share things even if I wanted to, of course. If I spilled my guts to Beale about what had happened at Dive the way I’d been tempted to earlier, I’d be outing Jayd… and somehow this seemed like a way bigger deal now that I knew Beale didn’t just know Jayd Rollins the pop-folk singer, the way most people did, he actually knew Jay Don Rollins the human being behind the persona. He was among the people Jayd should be able to come out to in his own time.
Plus, Beale’s brother had a huge grudge against him, and I didn’t know Rafe well enough to know how he’d use that information when Beale told him, because of course Beale would tell him. Beale might be a mythical unicorn in many ways, but there was no chance he’d keep a secret for me, a total stranger, when he’d specifically said earlier he was loyal to his brothers above anyone.
As for my other secret, my Hagatha secret…
I winced, remembering how Beale’s face had gone weirdly blank when he’d thought I was insulting him.
