Penny, like her husband, was a talkative woman. Despite being quiet, she said a lot. She couldn’t exactly be called a gossip, because she wasn’t ever malicious; rather, her mouth often ran away with her. Ruth let the reported conversation wash over her in soothing waves.
When a lull finally arose, she dredged up the words she’d practiced. “Penny, I wanted to talk to you about…” She cleared her throat. “About volunteering. Again. I don’t know if you need anyone—”
“Ooh, yes,” Penny beamed. “Of course we do! You know we always need volunteers, especially since you girls, ah, left.” Her beaky nose wrinkled. “Nasty business, that.”
For a second, Ruth’s heart stopped and her sisterly hackles rose, but then Penny added, “The bloody council, so old-fashioned. We could’ve had a qualified nursery nurse running Toddler Time! But nooo, five minutes behind bars and all of a sudden she’s useless.”
Ruth didn’t bother to correct the behind bars comment, or to point out that the council had no control over the law. Truthfully, she couldn’t exactly speak. So she hummed agreeably instead.
Penny tutted as she returned to the desk, pulling open a deep drawer. She heaved out a huge file and rifled through its alphabetised sections until she found the correct form. “Here you are, my love. You know how to fill it out.”
Ruth stared. She hadn’t expected… well, she didn’t know what she’d expected. She’d vacillated between envisioning a warm welcome and a complete freeze-out, caught between her knowledge of Penny’s character and her soul-deep certainty that no-one would want to oppose the collective opinion of Ravenswood.
She’d begun to suspect, recently, that her certainty in these matters was… well, wrong. And here, she supposed, was the evidence.
As she filled in the application form, Ruth considered the wild possibility that Penny might be utterly oblivious to the town’s general attitude. She checked boxes and signed dates and thought that maybe the last two years had simply passed Penny by.
But when she returned to the front desk to hand in the form—which, amongst other things, confirmed her consent to undergo a legal background check—Penny leaned forward.
Her voice even lower than usual, she said, “I’m glad you’re back, Ruthie. Me and the girls missed you. Bugger what anyone else has to say.”
Ruth blinked back unexpected tears. They had snuck up on her, and now they were close to breaking free in the middle of the town library. Good Lord. How absolutely mortifying.
She shoved them down ruthlessly and murmured, “Thanks.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, love. You’ll hear back about that DBS check.”
Ruth nodded, sobering. She’d pass the DBS check, and soon enough, she’d be volunteering again. Introducing the town’s kids to comics and fantasy novels the way she’d used to. But Hannah, whose entire life had revolved around working with kids, wouldn’t be able to.
Some problems could be fixed. Others couldn’t.
30
Ruth wandered around town aimlessly. She could’ve gone somewhere—the Greengage, maybe—but it had been a while since she’d walked through Ravenswood just for the pleasure of it. And really, if one ignored the large number of irritating inhabitants, it was a beautiful place. She’d missed it.
Plus, she had time to kill.
So she wasted an hour at the park, studying the blooming tulips and following the paths drawn through the thick, verdant copse. By the time 5 p.m. drew near, Ruth had counted seven grey squirrels. No red. She and Hannah had a twelve-year-long bet about who would be the first to see a red squirrel, and apparently, Ruth would not win that bet today.
But the thought of Hannah made Ruth pause to lean against an oak’s wide trunk and pull her phone from her waistband—no pockets.
Most people would say that Ruth should call her sister. And, while Ruth disliked phone calls—it was hard to really hear someone’s words, when you couldn’t see their face—she made them often enough.
Well; not often. But she could, was the point. If she wanted.
Only, she didn’t want to now. Hannah was at work anyway, and one phone call per day was quite enough, and—w
ell. Ruth wanted to say something important, and important things were so much easier to write down than to say out loud. So she texted.
What you said on Sunday was right. I’m going to do better.
She paused for a moment, pursing her lips, looking down at those words as she organised the next few in her mind.
I think I’ve been selfish. I concentrated on feeling guilty about you instead of actually helping you. And I isolated myself without thinking about how that would affect you.
Yeah. That sounded right. Ruth read over the message again and felt pleased; the words actually conveyed what she wanted them to. That didn’t happen very often.
She added the most important part.
I’m sorry and I love you.
Then she sent it.
After a last look around the park, Ruth reached down to pluck one of the tulips that had so captured her attention. She felt slightly bad as she snapped the crisp stem, but the things literally carpeted the grass. No-one would miss this single bloom. More importantly, it would grow back. It would recover.
Things usually did.
Hannah rarely used her phone at work, so Ruth wasn’t expecting a reply for hours. She got one within ten minutes, though.
Hannah: I love you too. So much.
Ruth wound her way to the outskirts of the town’s industrial estate, following the low wall that circled the Burne & Co. forge. They had a showroom in town, but this was where the blacksmiths worked. She knew because, once upon a time, she’d been forbidden to come here by Daniel.
Well, Daniel could get fucked.
She searched out Evan’s crappy old car and perched on the wall beside it, waiting for him to appear. While she waited, Ruth rolled the tulip’s bright green stem between her fingers. Its sunshine-yellow bell was streaked with scarlet. The colours reminded her of ripe fruit.
As she trailed a finger over one silken petal, a shadow fell over her. Ruth tensed.
She looked up to find a vaguely familiar man standing before her, his hands in his pockets. She studied his dark hair, his pale skin and piercing eyes, for a long moment before placing him.
“Zachary Davis,” she said, speaking the words aloud as they came to her.
He smiled. It was a cute and crooked tilt of the lips that made him look almost boyish, despite his size. Apparently, Burne & Co. only hired enormous people.
“I didn’t think you knew my name,” he replied.
Oh, she knew his name. She knew his name because he was the town’s male equivalent to Ruth—though, being a man, he was tacitly approved of rather than ostracised. She remembered his name because, despite his reputation, he had never tried to get in her pants. Or lied about getting in her pants.
Which made him unusual for a young, single man in Ravenswood.
But instead of admitting any of that, she tilted her chin defiantly and said, “Of course I do. Don’t you know mine?”
“Yep.” Ah. She’d walked right into that. But then he said, his explanation unexpected: “You’re Evan’s girlfriend.”
She blinked. “Am I?”
“Aren’t you?”
She twirled the tulip. He’d taken the words as denial, when really they’d been shock.
You’re Evan’s girlfriend. He’d said it so casually. Imagine that. She was with Evan, really with Evan, and it was not a secret.
“Yes,” she said finally, firmly. “I am.”
His little, crooked smile became a bigger, crooked smile. “I was in the year below you at school,” he said.
Ruth, conscious of the typical escalation of polite conversation, was confused by the subject change. But still, she said, “I know.”
He leant against Evan’s car. “I always thought you were cool.”
Nothing could’ve possibly shocked her more. Ruth was impressed with he
rself for not falling off the wall. She maintained her composure and her seat, and said with clear scepticism, “You did?”
“Yeah. You always used to iron Storm patches onto your rucksack. And you had those cool glasses.”
Ah, yes; her thick, turquoise, milk-bottle glasses. She thought they were cool too. No-one else had.
Except Zachary Davis, apparently.
“My mother ironed on the patches,” she said. “I wasn’t allowed to use the iron.”
His lips quirked, and she realised that she’d given unnecessary personal information. Oops. It was his fault for being so non-threatening. He was kind of like Evan, without the intimidating sex appeal.
Although, she thought wryly, Evan’s sex appeal didn’t seem so intimidating anymore.
“Hey,” a familiar voice called. Zach stepped aside to display Evan himself, coming through the forge’s front doors with a wide smile on his face. He reached the car with a speed that belied his easy stride, elbowing Zach in the ribs. “You chatting up my girl?”
“I’m confessing my childhood hero-worship,” Zach said. “It was nice to officially meet you, Ruth.”
Because in this town, you could know someone without ever actually talking to them.
She smiled. “You too.”
Then Zach clapped Evan on the back and said, “See you later, mate.”
“Say hi to your mum for me.”
Zach nodded and wandered off. He seemed to do everything with an oddly casual air. In fact, she wondered if he knew where he was going, or if he was just… walking.
Then he stopped by a grey Golf and unlocked the door. Apparently, he had indeed known where he was going.
Ruth hopped off the little wall and moved closer to Evan, feeling herself smile. It was a ridiculous and involuntary smile that she wasn’t in the mood to stifle. In fact, after her success at the library, she felt more relaxed than she had in a while.
He slid an arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. “You’re cheerful.”
“I suppose I am.” She held up the flower. “Want this?”
“Is it for me?”
Ruth bit her lip on a smile and shrugged.
Evan’s grin widened. “You got me a flower. How romantic.”
“Don’t get carried away.”
“I think I’ll press it,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes, “and treasure it forever.”
“Behave yourself. Are you busy tomorrow night?”
Evan plucked the flower from her fingers before unlocking the car. “Me and Zach were talking about a drink after work. Why?” He opened her door, waiting for her to get in.
“Well, I wanted to go somewhere with Hannah. Somewhere in Ravenswood. Like the Unicorn.”
Evan nodded and shut the door behind her, holding up a finger. He was opening the drivers’ door moments later, sliding into his seat. “I see. Did everything go okay today?”
Ruth nodded, watching as he placed the tulip carefully in a cup holder. “I signed up to volunteer at the library.”
“You used to do that, right? Before?”
“Yeah, I…” She trailed off as they pulled out of the little staff car park, driving right past the forge doors. Right past Daniel, who stood in the doorway, his eyes wide.
Ruth turned away, looking straight ahead. She wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life tiptoeing around, just to avoid him. He didn’t bother avoiding her. It was well past time to start living her life.
“He hasn’t even looked at me all day,” Evan said quietly. Ruth jumped slightly in her seat as the words pulled her out of her defiant thoughts.
“Daniel?” she asked.
“Yeah. He’s always in my face, one way or another, but today? Nothing.”
She drummed her fingers against her thighs. “Maybe Mr. Burne said something to him.”
“He told me I could lose my job if I didn’t leave you alone.”
Ruth’s jaw dropped. ”Mr. Burne?”
“Oh, no. Daniel.”
Ah. Her growing outrage soothed, and she relaxed back into her seat. “Don’t listen to that. He puts his dad’s name on his own bullshit. Mr. Burne doesn’t even like Daniel. I don’t know why they work together.”
“Probably because Daniel’s so good at his job.”
Daniel was good at everything.
Except people, she finally realised. People, and relationships, and happiness and sex.
Speaking of which…
Evan’s muscles shifted as he changed gear, pulling into Elm’s little car park. She watched the glide of power beneath his golden skin and felt a familiar tightening between her legs.
“So,” she said. “Wanna fuck?”
Evan jerked his head round to look at her. Then he burst out laughing. “I really never know what you’re going to say next.”
She grinned. “Does that mean no?”
“I need to shower. And I said I’d fix your bed. I got the wood.” He yanked up the handbrake and nodded towards the beam laying across the back seat.
But she saw the way his hand tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. And she saw the way his eyes darkened from summer sky to tempestuous ocean.
So she said again, “Does that mean no?”
He stared at her for a moment. Then he slid a hand behind her neck, pulled her to him and growled, “Nope.”
31
They didn’t have sex in Evan’s car, because a charge of public indecency wouldn’t do anyone any good. But as they entered the building and climbed the stairs, Evan couldn’t keep his hands off Ruth. She half-ran to stay ahead of him, pushing him away with a laugh every time he reached for her.
When they got to his door, she slid off her shoe and produced the key he’d given her. Evan arched a brow. “Seriously?”
“This is where I keep keys,” she said primly. “When I don’t have pockets, I mean.”
“Of course it is.” He’d already found her phone shoved down her waistband, before she pushed his hands away. Evan shook his head, laughter light in his chest even as lust tightened his core and hardened his cock.
Feelings weren’t as straight forward and binary as he’d once assumed; around Ruth, he could feel fifty things at once.
She dragged him into his own flat and slammed the door behind them. Then she pushed him up against it, and he had the most delicious sense of déjà vu.
Ruth grabbed his face, her fingers tight around his jaw. “Come here,” she ordered. Her eyes seemed darker than usual, pupils blown into each deep brown iris.
He bent down, just enough to bring his mouth within reach of hers. She rose up, too, and then her lips were slanting over his, soft as the tulip clutched between his fingers.
She caught his lower lip between her teeth and bit gently, and Evan found himself moaning against her mouth. Ruth dragged more noise out of him than anyone he’d ever been with. He didn’t mind at all.
With a grunt, Evan picked her up. She released his lip and gave a soft, little laugh. “You can’t just pick me up whenever you feel like it.”
“Why the hell not?” He carried her through the house, pausing to put his flower on a side table. “Isn’t that the point of you being so little?”
“You keep saying that,” Ruth muttered, “but I’m exactly average height.”
Evan paused, actually surprised. “Are you?”
“I’m 5 foot 3,” she sniffed.
“Are you?” He considered that for a moment. “You seem smaller.”
“You are incredibly ill-mannered.”
“That’s hilarious, coming from you.” He winked. “And, however tall you are, I like carrying you.”
“You don’t think I’m heavy?”
He felt his lips tip up at the suspicion in her voice. “Evidently not.”
“Right. And why are we in the bathroom?”
“Because we’re taking a shower.” He put her down gently, and then he slid his hands beneath the hem of her T-shirt. “Take this off.”
&
nbsp; She licked her lips, her eyes trailing over his body. “Yes, Sir.”
They undressed each other, in the end, her hands dragging at his clothes with an eagerness he’d longed for. All he’d ever wanted was for her to say yes. And when she tugged his T-shirt over his head with a laugh, when she squeezed his erection through his jeans before unzipping them, that was all he heard. Over and over again, with every hurried touch. Yes.
They stepped under the shower’s hot spray in a tangle of bodies, Ruth’s legs wrapped around his waist, her hands gripping his shoulders like a lifeline. He shoved her against the tiles and she moaned, grabbing his hair and hauling him closer. Kissing him. Giving him everything. Yes.
He palmed her breast and she moaned into his mouth. He pinched the nipple and she bit at his lip. He could feel the slick heat of her pussy against his shaft, and he had to remind himself that he couldn’t just sink into her. No condom.
Then she reached between their bodies and grasped his cock, wet skin against wet skin, and the burning desire for pressure receded because she, this, whatever she chose to give him, would always be exactly what he needed.
Ruth pulled her lips from his and tipped her head back, water streaming over her face. She looked like a goddess. She felt like a goddess, her hand sliding over his cock faster and faster, eliciting sensations that had to be divine.
“Stop,” he rasped out. “I’m trying to last.”
She opened her eyes slightly, water collecting on her lashes, a wicked grin on her lips. “For what?”
He kissed her again. And then, because two could play at that game, he reached between them and slid a finger inside her. She released a drawn-out moan, her grip on his cock faltering. When he brushed his thumb over her clit, she swore.
“I’ll race you,” she panted.
“Race me?”
“I bet I can make you come first.”
Evan laughed. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Why not? Don’t think you can win?”
Hold Me Close: A Cinnamon Roll Box Set Page 19
