These people commenting couldn’t have been angrier if Ruby had poisoned their puppy.
“Oh, Ruby,” he said into the buzzing of the office lights. “No wonder you shied away from more press coverage.”
Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. Any video or article of him had idiocy in the comments, but that was people’s fear of someone with a disability. Their ignorance and self-congratulatory pity maddened him, but it never made him fear for his safety. In either case, the commenters seemed to forget that both he and Ruby were people. Or maybe the commenters didn’t forget, but wanted to dehumanize them.
Micah tapped his finger on the mouse. Even if his experiences weren’t the same as Ruby’s, there was a similarity there that he hadn’t expected.
He should pull away from the computer and those vicious comments, but he couldn’t. Instead, he read each and every one of them until his soul felt as if someone had poured tar over it. And she had received mail like this at her home.
Micah picked up his phone to call her, then set the receiver down. What was he going to say? He knew men could be pigs, but he’d never noticed the sheer pile of sexual innuendo and threats poured out on a woman—any woman, but this one in particular. He hunted around until he found some older articles from before her cheating was revealed, and he read those comments, too. Again the volume of sexual offers overwhelmed him. Some suggested she should do porn because she had the name for it. Some suggested that only a lesbian would have thighs like hers. Others remarked on her stamina in bed. And threaded through all the comments was a sense that Ruby needed to be tamed. That she needed a “real man” to teach her. That her spirit needed to be dampened.
And those men had succeeded. She had retreated into her parents’ house and hidden from the world for five years.
Micah rolled himself as far away from the computer screen as he could get, anger welling up in his throat and threatening to come out of his mouth in a primal, protective yell. He wanted to call her and tell her never to leave her house. To go back to her parents’ and lock herself behind their gates. To get herself over to the NSN campus and never leave his sight. To get a meaner-looking dog and name it Killer.
He looked down to see his hands clenched in tight fists on the tops of his thighs. His quads were spasming, and he’d been so tense that he hadn’t noticed the movement under his hands. His first deep breath came out in a hard puff, so he lifted his chin and breathed, unfurling his fingers centimeter by centimeter, despite their protestations. He fought the anger that resisted opening his hands up any farther than claws digging into his thighs. It took another two deep breaths for his fingers to loosen another centimeter.
Finally he had calmed enough to handle the mouse and close browser windows until the offensive shit no longer took up space on his monitor and he could contemplate his options. He could essentially lock her away for her own protection—like his grandmother had suggested be done with him. Given the fierceness in her face when he had expressed worry, he would get as far with that plan as his grandmother had with her suggestion. Though he didn’t plan to add, if you love me, you’ll do this, nor would he wonder aloud in front of her if she would be better off dead.
She had agreed to do this series because she didn’t want to be caged any longer. He got that, and asking her to stay indoors for her safety didn’t make the iron bars less oppressive.
Of course, between his reaction to the comments and the kiss, he needed to get his priorities back in order and make the best series NSN had ever had.
* * *
RUBY HAD LIED when she’d said she was going to think of coaching strategies for Eric while running. She ran for seven miles, her body fatigued after the weight lifting and her mind jumping up and down like a teenage girl after her first kiss. None of the complications of a relationship managed to break through the giddy bubble. She was breaking free, and there was nothing between her and another kiss from Micah.
Next time, she wouldn’t be so stunned that she let him take all the lead.
Her certainty that there would be a next time made the email she got from him several hours later apologizing for his actions and saying it wouldn’t happen again all the more shocking. Not devastating—she wasn’t going to allow that feeling to well up in her. But he was right. She had a list of goals, and swapping spit with a reporter wasn’t on the page.
If she said that enough times, she would believe it. Visualization was the key to everything.
* * *
LIKE SHE HAD three days a week for the past several weeks since Micah had kissed her, Ruby slid into the passenger seat of his car with a smile as large and as bright as the neon pink gym bag she threw into the backseat.
He’d tried to ignore it, waiting for her to say something. But the memory of a similar smile during their interview five years ago in a dumbstruck response to his question about her life falling apart around her meant he couldn’t hold back any longer. Her uncertain smile couldn’t hide the mountains of stress in her eyes. She needed someone to talk to, and she may not want that person to be him, but he seemed to be all she had.
“Living alone is going well?” Micah asked.
“Dotty and I are doing fine. I should have moved out years ago.”
“I’d believe you if the shine in your voice wasn’t several watts more blinding than your smile.”
The fall of the corners of her lips changed her smile from fake to beautiful. Freedom looked good on her. “I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with this new life. Eric will be finished with his marathon in three months and then what?”
“Train someone else. Why can’t you be a personal trainer?”
“No one would hire me to be a coach.”
“I didn’t say coach, I said personal trainer.”
She waved him off. “I only know how to run.”
How many times had Ruby been told she was only good at running and not to even try anything else? “You can learn to do more. And for every person who’s horrified at the idea of being trained by Ruby Heart, fallen American darling, there are probably more who, like Eric, will pay extra for the privilege.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about cashing in on my crimes. It seems—” she paused “—dirty.”
Micah opened his mouth to tell her everyone does it, then changed his mind and closed it. Everyone does it had put a needle in her arm.
They drove the rest of the way in a painful silence as Ruby visibly fought the demons of her past and Micah felt like a shit for introducing the subject. Which didn’t stop him from putting a hand on the firm muscles of Ruby’s arm after they’d parked. “Ruby, I looked up old articles about you.”
“When? Why?” The blinding shine was back in the tone of her voice and it hurt his ears. “I would think you knew everything about the rise and fall of America’s Darling.”
“After our kiss. I read the comments.”
She pulled toward the door but, after Micah’s ten years in a wheelchair, even Ruby Heart and her powerful muscles couldn’t break his grip. He didn’t squeeze, but he also didn’t let go. Finally she collapsed back into the seat with a huff. “You should never read the comments. Never.” The pain in her voice pierced the dash and shot shrapnel through his car, wounding his heart.
“You’ve read them.”
“Even if I didn’t, I’d know what they say. Every famous woman knows what they say. Hell, you don’t even have to be famous. A friend posts a picture of you and sixty percent of the men want to fuck you—”
Micah winced at a crudeness he’d never heard from her.
“—and the other sixty percent want to stomp on you.”
“Ruby, that’s a hundred and twenty percent.”
She snorted. “The overlap is the men who want to stomp you while fucking you. And that’s the men. The women also want to b
eat you down.”
“Even the old articles have recent comments.”
“I know.” Her words came out hard and she pushed stray hairs out of her face. “Don’t people say nasty things about you?”
“All the time, but they lack the...” Searching for a polite term was stupid, since Ruby knew what people said about her, but he did it anyway. “The sexual edge that the comments people say about you have. Mostly people just try to pretend I’m not a human being or wonder why I didn’t kill myself after the accident.”
She blinked, clearly startled by his words. “Well, don’t worry about me, Micah. People say things. They’ve always said things and they will always say things, only on the internet they can say them anonymously and they’re harder to track. The cops say the person who comments so regularly about me online is getting all his hate out and is unlikely to do something in person. All I can do is stop waving my arms about in front of their face and asking their opinion.”
In the haunted depths of her eyes, he saw that her knowledge of the ill will that people bore her was more than just bottomless—it had bubbled up to the surface.
“And has retreating into obscurity worked?”
This time Ruby slipped out of his car before he could grab hold of her again. “That, Micah Blackwell,” she said with her head framed by the car, “is none of your business.” Then she slammed the door.
Micah had always been a man who tested his physical limitations, but even he knew that chasing after Ruby Heart without his wheelchair under him wasn’t possible. He let her go.
But just because he couldn’t chase her didn’t mean he couldn’t catch her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IF THE DAMN receptionist hadn’t been so slow, Ruby would have been able to slip into the women’s locker room before Micah caught up with her. Instead, he was blocking her exit with his body and his anger.
“Do you feel like a champion now? Running away when I can’t chase after you?”
She darted to her right, but Micah was quicker, and his fingers dug into her back when he caught her around the waist. She pushed the balls of her feet into the concrete floor, coiling her legs and preparing to leap from his trap. He was stronger than she’d anticipated.
His nostrils flared. “Is running away all you ever do?”
“What the hell do you know about running?” She stopped pressing forward, testing his resolve. The strength of his forearm hard against her stomach never wavered.
“I was a quarterback. I looked deep into the eyes of men who wanted to break me and I stood my ground.”
“Yeah, with the help of an offensive line,” she growled.
The fingers gripping her waist relaxed, and he must know her better than she knew herself because she didn’t run away. “Ruby, tell me what you want and I’ll try to help you.”
The honest concern in his voice disarmed her. “I don’t want to be scared anymore. I used to be triumphant.”
“Triumph doesn’t run away.”
“Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I was a track star, Micah. I was triumphant because I ran away.”
“Bullshit,” he said, and she flinched. “You were triumphant because you ran, not because you ran away. Those aren’t the same thing and you know it.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You’re not a coward, Ruby. Don’t pretend to be one.” His eyes softened and he put his hands back on the wheels of his chair. She missed the feel of him. “And don’t run from me. If you’re angry or sad or scared, tell me. I can take it.”
But could he take it when she was feeling sinful? “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
He moved his chair enough for her to get by, and they stared at each other for several seconds before she hitched her gym bag higher on her shoulder and walked past him into the women’s locker room, her spine straight against the disappointment in his eyes burning her back.
Once in the women’s locker room, she threw her bag to the floor and took several deep breaths. Micah’s cameraman was meeting them here to film her, and any hesitation on her part would scream through the television screen and into America’s living rooms—as would her anger and fear. She knew Micah had been right about that; he was right about so many things.
After she changed, she sat on the floor in a back corner. First she did a couple of simple stretches, focusing her mind away from her emotions and onto her body. Once her body was limber and her mind was clear, she crossed her legs, closed her eyes and visualized what she wanted America to see on their screens. When the word chastened flitted up to the surface of her mind, she held it up high and examined it before throwing it away. She scrutinized each word as it floated into view, storing some away for future use and discarding others. Reborn burst out of the depths. She took another deep breath, opened her eyes and stood, ready to glide out the door.
Conquering her mind was the first step to conquering her body.
Amir and Micah were waiting for her on the weight room floor, along with King Ripley, whom she hadn’t expected. The words she’d thrown away in the locker room threated to reappear, and she went back to the place in her mind that had brought forth reborn, staying there until the urge to run disappeared.
Micah’s eyes were tight with frustration. Some of it might still be directed at her, but most of it was probably due to King, who was saying to Micah, “So where are the weight benches you use?” when she joined the trio.
“I use the same weight benches as everyone else,” Micah answered, his voice as constricted as his face.
“Huh,” the other reporter said. “Can I see?”
“No.”
“How about the pull-ups I hear you can do? I want to see those.”
Micah didn’t even acknowledge that request. He turned to her, the shallowness of his dimples betraying the authenticity of his smile. “Ruby, are you ready?”
She nodded, and her entourage followed her to the squat rack like mismatched ducklings. She was loading weights onto the bar when Micah said, “King, do something useful and move the benches out of the way so Amir can get good video.”
Ruby wasn’t the only one smiling at that. She might not be able to see Amir’s face, but his stance gave away his amusement. Something on Micah’s face must have discouraged King’s protests because the only sound she heard besides the scrape of the weight plates on the bar was the squeak of the benches being dragged across the floor.
Ruby positioned herself at the rack, the bar resting across her trapezius. Normally she chose her gym clothes for ease of movement and breathability, but today she’d dressed with extra care. She wanted the video to capture her muscles in their movements, which meant showing skin, but, even if it was a failed effort, she wanted to sell power, not sex. Her black tights should show the strength in her legs while the pale blue racer-back top she wore provided plenty of chest coverage while displaying every muscle of her upper back.
Old Ruby Heart had padded her bra and painted her lips to please other people. New Ruby Heart pleased herself first.
She lifted the bar off the safety catches, stuck out her butt as if she was going to sit on a chair and bent her knees. By the count of two, she had blocked the trio of NSN men from her mind and was lost in the movements of her body.
* * *
AFTER RUBY HAD showered and changed into khaki shorts and a gray T-shirt, she met the men in the parking lot. The engine of the production van parked behind Micah’s car was idling, almost drowning out the men’s conversation. Ruby put her gym bag on the hood of the car and joined them.
Amir was telling Micah about the shots he got, both of Ruby and of the weight room. Ruby must have looked quizzical when Amir said, “I got great nats,” because Micah leaned into her and said quietly, “Nats are natural sounds.
Background noise that brings depth to the video, in this case the grunts of the other lifters and the sound of metal scraping against itself.”
Sound waves might not have enough power to blow a single leaf, but Ruby felt Micah’s words touch every inch of her body before what he said registered in her ears. The sensation produced both goose bumps and redness in her cheeks. She was hunting for balance in her newly defined life, but with Micah around she might as well be trying to do squats while standing on a water bed.
Which made it all the more aggravating when he said, “We’re not done with our conversation about the internet comments,” as soon as he’d pulled out of the parking lot.
She should have known he wouldn’t let it go. They shared the same tenacity. She had only rediscovered her own stubbornness; Micah had apparently never let his go.
Still, she tried to dissuade him. “I was.”
“Ruby, the attention NSN is paying to you—that I am paying to you—is sure to attract notice. Half the gym watched you lift. Twenty people came up to me while you were in the locker room to ask who you were and what Amir was doing there. If any of those commenters intend to follow through on their words, a photog’s presence is going to make finding you a lot easier.”
“I’m not going to let you or anyone else push me back into a cage.”
If only Micah wasn’t driving. His face was turned to the front and his expression mostly hidden from view. But she understood his strategy behind ambushing her in the car. She’d walked right into the trap and shut the door on herself.
“There’s a middle ground between moving back in with your parents and being the feature in an NSN series. You could just run. No spotlight shining on you.”
“Been there. Done that.” She sneered, angrier with him than she had even been with her parents. “Why do you travel the world reporting on athletes? I’m sure it’s not always easy for you. You could just stay home and cash a disability check.”
Micah slammed his hand on the wheel when her sucker punch landed. “Comparing my situation to yours made you a fool before and it makes you a fool now.”
Winning Ruby Heart Page 13
