It Happens in Threes

by Denise Robbins

  Ruby stopped, forced herself to take several deep breaths, inhaling through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. This had been the act of bored kids. She hoped.

  Just as she started for the next row, she heard the car pull into the drive.

  * * * *

  Michael stretched from the car, an unconscious smile on his face, his concentration on Ruby. She had grown from the little high school girl, a size nothing, with no figure to speak of, to a woman who filled a T-shirt making a man want to pour water on it. And legs, those legs made him want to run his fingers from hip to toe and back up again.

  She stood up, brushed dirt off her hands and clothes. “How was the shopping?”

  “Great. I bought a new club at the pro shop along with a pair of shoes. I picked us up some sausage for breakfast at the market.”

  “Ew! You know I hate sausage. The way it makes noise when you cook it sounds like its squealing.” She gave an involuntary shudder.

  “You still aren’t over that?” His mouth curved at her endearing quirk. “You don’t have to eat it.

  “The flowers look…” Unable to finish his comment, his gaze halted on the flowerbeds. Michael stalked toward the piles of dirt and green, stared down perplexed at the beheaded vibrant colorful blooms. With utter confusion, he turned to face her, waiting for an answer to his unasked question. None came.

  Instead, Ruby lowered her eyes away from his, chewing on her lip, a charming nervous habit that at the moment annoyed the hell out of him. Keeping his voice controlled and mild, he asked, “What the heck happened?”

  “Kids.” She shrugged dismissively staring down at her feet. “You know how bored kids are and how you were when you were younger. Teenagers will do anything for a little harmless entertainment at someone else’s expense.”

  She rambled and wouldn’t make eye contact with him. Something was up and she wasn’t telling him.

  “They were neglected anyway. I’ll plant others before I head home so Mom won’t be disappointed the next time they come down. Maybe I’ll buy some violets.”

  Violets? It didn’t make any sense. She was too nonchalant. She loved those flowers. Pink and purple roses were her favorites. Something else was going on. He could read it in her body language. But he couldn’t argue with her logic.

  Tilting her head up, he saw misty green eyes filled with distress and widened with fear. Was it him she was afraid of or something else? Using his thumb, he brushed dirt from her cheek, feeling the smoothness, the heat of her face. With a concerted effort, he pushed back the raw taste of unease from his throat. “When you decide what you want to plant I’ll help.”

  She nodded her head in rapid, quiet agreement.

  “What do you want to do now?”

  “I’m going for a drive.”

  Too cheery, he thought, and eyed her with skepticism. Driving was one of Ruby’s mechanisms to clear the cobwebs.

  “Can I convince you to stay and have dinner with me?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll take a rain check. I’m looking forward to getting behind the wheel,” she added in a rush.

  “Not dressed like that I hope.” His left eyebrow raised a fraction. He looked her up and down, took in the filthy T-shirt snug over the swell of her breasts and the way the short cutoffs accented her legs as well as her firm fanny. “Where are you going?”

  “I was going to clean up. Why? What’s wrong with this outfit?” she demanded, hands on skinny hips.

  “Nothing, if you want every man you run across to think about you leaning over a Lamborghini in a car magazine.”

  “Michael! You’re such a pig.” She gave him a hard shove and stormed back toward the house.

  Though anger propelled her toward the house, watching her backside stride was enough to... “I’m just trying to tell you,” he raised his voice a notch…that every man would want to take a bite, including me.

  Shaking his head, Michael dislodged the fantasy.

  Something was wrong. He could feel it. If there was one person in this world he knew better than anyone else, including his vanished partner, it was Ruby.

  * * * *

  Ruby had difficulty cleaning up and dressing in a hurry. Her feet wouldn’t get in the skirt. Her toes kept catching on the denim waistband. The damned top she chose to wear wouldn’t shimmy down past her breasts. She had to tug and yank and break a sweat.

  The note, attached to a branch just a little above where Michael had stood, consumed Ruby’s thoughts. She had to get to it before he noticed it. She breathed a sigh of relief when he hadn’t looked up after she was certain her eyes had bugged out of her head when he touched her cheek. She almost told him then. He caressed her, made her feel safe, and yet she was afraid.

  Shoving her feet into shoes, Ruby stood in front of the mirror to check her work, but more to calm her nerves. Michael would detect if she was jittery and then she’d never get out of the house and to the note.

  When Michael noticed her dressed in the short denim skirt above mid-thigh, his chin almost hit the floor. She must be appropriately dressed. With a mocking smile she whispered, “Trying to catch flies?”

  His mouth clamped shut and his gaze turned intimidating. At least that’s what she believed he wanted to accomplish with his blue-eyed glare, intimidation.

  It didn’t work. She retrieved the keys from him, grabbed her little purse, told him she’d see him later and not to wait up.

  The last thing she heard him say before the front door shut behind her was, “What kind of outfit is that for a drive?”

  His reaction gave her a tingle of pleasure. She grinned with amusement as she strode with purpose and pretend nonchalance to the tree in the center of where her once beautiful flowers lay in their grave. Reaching up on tip-toe, Ruby plucked the blue paper from the branch attached with a pink ribbon. The ribbon remained. She didn’t think that was any big deal. If he asked, she could excuse it as a fastener for party balloons used at some time or another.

  Note in hand, she peered over her shoulder to make certain Michael wasn’t watching from the living room window. As best she could, Ruby ran in a mini-skirt and sandaled heels to the car. Once the door was open, she folded herself into the driver’s seat and engaged the locks. Leaning her head against the headrest, she inhaled deeply then uncrumpled the note. It read, ‘A rose is a symbol of love. It once bloomed in radiant beauty only to be torn away from its life-giving element’.

  Heart slamming against her chest, she slammed the gear shift into reverse and got the heck out of there.

  Cruising along US-1, no destination in mind, Ruby picked up a little speed. She needed to put distance between her, the house, the flowers, and Michael.

  Ruby wanted to believe the beheaded roses were just a coincidence, a kid or kids playing a nasty trick. No way Thomas had located her. Nobody knew where she was except her parents. And Michael.

  Thomas didn’t know about her parents’ vacation home. If he phoned them, her parents wouldn’t have told him where she was. Pops would rather introduce Thomas’s square jaw to his fist.

  So how had he found her? The question droned in her mind. Before she realized it, she’d driven to Key West, a two-hour road trip from Key Largo. The perfect place for mindless fun.

  Ruby adored the shops on Duval Street, the main drag in Key West. After the long drive and a leisurely shopping tour where she bought a tropical print dress, Ruby was ready to kickback and unwind with a cold cocktail and live music.

  She slipped into Sloppy Joe’s, Ernest Hemingway’s favorite joint in Key West, and walked right into the ‘Papa Look-A-Like Contest’. A beloved patron and friend of the owner, Hemingway used to buy illicit bottles of Scotch during prohibition and helped rename the place from the Silver Slipper to Sloppy Joe’s because patrons accused the owner, Joe Russell, of running a sloppy place.

  As Ruby pulled up a bar stool and ordered a ‘Sloppy Rita’, she eyed the throng of cheerful gray-bearded men. The renowned Hemingway Days Festival was in full
swing. What a sight to see. The final night of the contest, the place was packed, loud, and in Ruby’s opinion, perfect.

  She ordered a second ‘Sloppy Rita’ and an ‘Original Sloppy Joe’. In between contestant groups, where the ‘Mamas’ would cheer on their ‘Papas’, the live band played on the raised stage and patrons danced and drank. Ruby wasn’t any different. She kicked up her dancing shoes with some of the locals and gawking visitors until her feet hurt. Then she twinkled her bare toes on the wood floor. She felt tremendous, refreshed, exhilarated.

  Sloppy Joe’s didn’t close until four in the morning but she knew if she didn’t get on the road she’d have to stay the night. She returned to Key Largo well after three in the morning. Not wanting to disturb Michael, she doused the headlights as she pulled into the driveway.

  Sliding the key into the lock, she stepped through the front door, silently closing it behind her and turning the deadbolt. Slipping out of her shoes, she tiptoed into her room, crossed to the bathroom, and turned on the light. In the closet, she removed her clothes that smelled of alcohol and smoke, wrinkling her nose at the odor. “Yuck.”

  Ruby grabbed the nightshirt from the bed, slipped it over her head, and froze at the sight of the looming figure in the doorway. Uh-oh. His eyes gleamed in the shadows and locked on hers.

  She couldn’t tell whether they conveyed anger, passion, or humor, but she was about to find out.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  Taken aback by his menacing tone, Ruby took a step in retreat. “Excuse me? You scared the heck out of me. Don’t you knock?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I…I took a drive.” She straightened and stood with her back stiff as steel.

  “Like hell! It’s after three. Where have you been?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “I own a watch.” She extended her arm, pointing at the gold bracelet timepiece to emphasize her point. “I realize what time it is. I drove to Key West and I don’t owe you any explanation. You’re not my keeper!”

  Michael crossed to her so quickly she barely had a chance to blink before he held her upper arms with callused hands. He wasn’t hurting her, but he wasn’t letting go.

  “As long as I’m around, I’m your keeper.”

  He sniffed. He couldn’t miss the aroma of alcohol on her breath and smoke on her skin.

  “You’ve been drinking?”

  She lifted her chin. “I went to Sloppy Joe’s. I had a margarita or two, but I’m not drunk.”

  “Who were you with?”

  The accusation took her by surprise, but her spine grew taut. “None of your business.” She struggled to break free from his grip, but the more she fought the closer he got. His hot breath on her neck scalded her. “What is wrong with you? You’re being ridiculous. Could you kindly take your meat hooks off of me?”

  He released her, dropped her arms, holding his hands up in surrender.

  “You stayed out until three in the morning unescorted for what? What would your fiancé say?”

  Biting her lower lip, she didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t told Michael the engagement was off. She didn’t want to discuss it.

  Exasperated, she ground out her remark, emphasized every statement with a poke from her index finger on his rock hard chest. “You listen to me, Mr. Secret Agent man. I don’t need your permission. I don’t need any man’s permission. I don’t owe you an explanation. I’m a grown woman. What I do is my business. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Yeah. That felt so good.

  “You could have phoned me. I was worried. I have friends, female friends who were raped while out by themselves late at night. You should have taken a friend. You should have taken me.”

  Stunned, her retort never made it past her lips. She hadn’t anticipated that remark. He was being an overbearing jerk, but he was concerned. How was she supposed to respond?

  “I…I apologize. I was just blowing off steam.” He softened immediately. His eyes went from shooting sparks to small flickers.

  He relented and strode away from her turning back to say, “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

  Before the door shut behind him, Ruby got the last word. “Kiss my ass.” Expecting her remark to bring Michael back for round two, she readied herself to take on the blue-eyed, fire-breathing dragon. It wasn’t necessary. The door clicked closed.

  Shocked, Ruby stood in her room, stared at the closed door, rubbed at the slight sting in her arms caused by Michael’s firm but not brutal grasp. She wasn’t hurt. She was bewildered.

  “Talk about exaggerated reaction. And he’s supposed to be unflappable. I wonder if he’s like that when he’s on an assignment. I don’t owe him any explanation. He doesn’t need to know everything.”

  FIVE

  Leaning against the counter the next morning, Ruby tipped the mug up for a sip, and noticed the note on the refrigerator.

  Her breathing quickened, heart knocking against her ribs. With both hands, Ruby set the mug down carefully on the wood topped island. Filled with dread, she started on a death march toward the refrigerator, her feet slow and sluggish. As she reached for the mauve colored paper under the magnet, her lungs leapt into her throat, threatening to choke her.

  When Ruby realized the note was from Michael, a sigh of relief replaced the pounding in her head. It read, ‘Went golfing. Be home for dinner and will grill out for us. Love ya, Mickey’.

  Leaving the message was Michael’s way of saying she should show the same courtesy and respect. He was damn good at dishing guilt trips. There were too many other things to do besides feel remorseful for not calling her guard dog and checking in with him last night. She crumpled the paper, and tossed it into the wastebasket.

  Grabbing Luey, her laptop computer, and the rest of her coffee, Ruby moved to the table on the lanai. She had all day to start thinking about her future plans, without the interference of Michael’s presence.

  Settled in the lounger, ready to read her email, her fingers hovered over the keyboard for only a second before the laptop beeped. Someone sent her an IM.

  She clicked the icon and the instant message popped up on the screen. It was from ‘StudMuffin’, her ex-fiancé’s screen name. She should have known there was something wrong with a guy who had that nickname. It should have been a hint, a big warning sign to stay away. The message read, ‘I love you’.

  Ruby didn’t want to talk with Thomas via phone, email, instant messenger, or any other method known to man or woman.

  Frustrated, and in a state of shock, Ruby exited her instant messenger program. She had received ninety-six email messages from Thomas. Holy Cow! The subject headers were all the same, ‘LOVE’ and looking at the date-time stamp, she figured he sent one an hour for the past few days and they were still coming in.

  Knowing the emails were probably just like the instant message she had received from him, Ruby chose to ignore them, hoping he’d get the hint and stop when there was no response.

  To be certain she wouldn’t be disturbed, Ruby put a filter on her email to move all messages from Thomas to her junk mail folder then concentrated on reading the real emails. Once that was completed, she moved on to what she really aimed at accomplishing with her computer, lists.

  Lists helped her organize her thoughts, tasks, and her life. Right now, she needed organization. She created columns of her debts and assets. She cringed at how much the debts outweighed the assets, but it didn’t come as a surprise.

  She had a lifetime dream of owning her own used bookstore and café, unrealistic at this point. Maybe one day. What concerned her most was that her only experience and her world had been technology, for a very long time. Most of the time she enjoyed it. If she owned her own retail business would it be as challenging…or would she get bored?

  Ruby came up with a list of contacts and companies she could target for possible jobs when she returned to New Hampshire. The thought of having to work for someone else made her grimace, so she als
o typed up potential businesses for contract work.

  She didn’t mind change. As a matter of fact, in the technology industry, it’s expected and required. She thrived on change, but only the kind she could control.

  Her brain was exhausted.

  Peering at the clear blue sky, Ruby determined it would be terrible to waste a beautiful day.

  Following that train of thought, she changed into a skimpy plum and turquoise bikini. Stretched out on the chaise reading a book, she soaked up the rays of the gorgeous orange-yellow sun. After only a few pages, sleep overtook her.

  * * * *

  Michael arrived at the house, groceries in hand. In the kitchen, he caught sight of Ruby in his peripheral vision. She slept beside the pool. Plopping the sacks on the table, he unpacked the steaks, prepped them for the grill, put the key lime pie slices from the Mexican restaurant in the freezer, and opened a bottle of chardonnay. Glasses in hand, Michael strolled out to the patio.

  As he set everything on the table with quiet care, he noticed the laptop. A file was open with lots of lists. Such a logical woman. Sometimes.

  Since it was his nature as a spook to snoop and spy, Michael didn’t feel the least bit remorseful for invading her privacy. While he set the table for dinner, keeping an eye on Ruby so she didn’t catch him, he skimmed the document. If she caught him she’d pitch a fit and skin him alive.

  The lists confused him. The woman had a job she liked. Why the debt and asset columns? Why was she thinking about contract work? And how come she only listed her debts and not her fiancé’s. He would get to the bottom of this.

  The sun radiated around her golden hair and he thought she looked like an angel. He hated to disturb her. His hand on her shoulder, Michael bent low to her ear to interrupt her peaceful nap. “Cat, it’s time to clean up for dinner.” She didn’t stir. He shook her a little and whispered again, “Ruby.”

  Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. Not fully awake, she mumbled, “Huh?”

  “Cat, it’s almost dinner time.” He watched as her hazel eyes opened and focused.