“Well, I’m out of my league,” Micah’s father said, “so call me and my meeples the Old Folks. Hopefully experience will help me win.”
“I’m gonna be the Packers,” Eric said at the same time Taylor said, “Packers.” They exchanged smiles dripping with memory and more sentimentality than Micah expected out of the bearded and tattooed marathon runner.
Ruby waggled her finger. “This is Chicago. You’re lucky I’m allowing one Packers team—there’s no way I’ll allow two.”
“Brewers, then,” Eric said, and he was getting lucky for a week if the smile Taylor gave him was any indication.
Micah was stuck on the other side of the table and the other side of his job from getting a smile like that from Ruby. Dammit, time had not erased from his memory the feel of the lips he wasn’t kissing. Shaking his head didn’t clear his mind, but he did notice everyone staring at him. “Salt-and-Pepper Potato Chips. Chips for short,” he said.
“Oh, I like those, too,” Taylor exclaimed. Eric’s girlfriend was sweet, but judging by the gleam in Ruby’s eye, nice wouldn’t help her win the game.
“One Hundred and One Dalmatians,” Ruby said for her team name. “Because I’m going to run you all down.”
Micah, his dad and Eric laughed. Taylor looked startled.
“So that’s how we’re going to play the game,” Micah said.
“It’s a game,” Ruby responded with a blink. “You play to win.”
“Game on, then,” he said, and suddenly wished he’d paid more attention to the rules when she’d explained them.
Ruby put down the starter tile, and it was Taylor’s turn. “Okay, connect farmland to farmland. Can I lay down a person?”
“You can claim either a road and be a thief or the farmland and be a farmer.” Ruby shoved the scorecard across the table. “And the points for each are different, so take that into account.”
They went around the table several times, each person picking a tile and laying it on the board as the game spread out across the table. Ruby answered questions and moved meeples on the scoreboard for all the players. Micah was in the lead. “For all the big talk, Miss Dalmatian, you’re in last place.”
When she raised her eyebrows at him, the small, dark freckle on the side of her nose stretched. “You, Micah Blackwell, are overconfident. Don’t you know it ain’t over until it’s over?”
“You have half the points of anyone on the board,” he pointed out.
“It’s part of my strategy. You hang back and let everyone exhaust themselves and then boom—” she flashed her fingers out at them with a smile “—you catch ’em from behind where they’re vulnerable.”
“Same strategy as in your running.”
She shrugged, her eyes a little dimmer. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t the strategy that was broken there.” The smile she offered was one she fought hard for. “And my Dalmatians are going to eat up every last one of your chips, so don’t you worry about having to clean up after yourself.”
“Oh, I was more worried about you and the dog shit you’re spouting.”
This time her laugh was genuine.
They continued trading barbs as Ruby got farther and farther behind and Micah got farther and farther ahead, with Taylor, Eric and the Old Folks trading places in between. Eventually, Taylor turned over the last tile and played her last meeple.
“You’re still losing, Ruby,” Micah said.
“And you—” she waggled her finger at him “—are still overconfident. You haven’t won until we total up the points on the board.”
As Ruby counted the points for their roads, castles and monasteries, the meeples on the scoreboard got closer and closer together until Ruby was only three points behind him. Farms were next, and Micah had no farms. He could only watch in dismay as Ruby’s red meeple overtook his green one and he finished in last place.
“Next time I’m going to listen to the rules of the game before I play.”
“Excuses, excuses, excuses.” She gestured around the table. “No one else is making excuses.”
“I really thought you were going to win,” Taylor said, which didn’t make Micah feel any better.
But getting his ass kicked by Ruby Heart turned out to be better than he thought it would. As she shimmied and generally made an obnoxious fool of herself, her shirt rode up, revealing bits of skin and cupping the undersides of her bouncing breasts. Get her in a short skirt and he would be willing to lose to her again.
* * *
RUBY WAS COLD, even in her jeans and wool sweater with her hands wrapped around a cup of hot coffee. Haley was cold and complaining.
“Why are we up this early in the morning and on the South Side?”
“We’re up early because the wheelchair marathoners will be past here soon. We’re on the South Side because there aren’t many spectators down here.”
“I’d rather be in bed.”
“You didn’t have to come.”
“How else was I going to see this reporter you’ve got the hots for?”
“He’ll be a blur. And he’s working on me for a series. There’s nothing more to our relationship.”
“Working on you. Heh.”
Ruby eyed her cousin and swallowed a smile. Nothing good ever came out of encouraging Haley. “How about you just take this as a break from the never-ending wedding planning?”
“I told Mom we were going to talk about favors in between cheering.”
“Are we?”
“No. You’re going to tell me what you see in Micah. And I don’t want to hear about the sex-denial thing you’ve got going on. He made you cry on national TV. Why should I forgive him?”
“Because he was right—I failed my sport.”
“He’s in a wheelchair.” Haley put on her rarely used serious voice. “Let’s say you finish the NSN thing and you guys start dating. Have you thought about what would happen next?”
“I assume we would keep dating and then we would either break up or we wouldn’t. It’s been a while since I’ve had a boyfriend, but I think that’s how it works.”
“Ruby!”
“If you’re asking what I find so attractive about a man on wheels, then you should come right out and say it.” Tires scraped on asphalt and the rhythm of hands pushing at wheels got louder and louder. “But not now. They’re coming and I want to watch.”
Micah was in the second pack of racers and tenth overall. Even through his sunglasses, the concentration in his eyes made her legs clench and her belly tingle. He had looked at her with the same intensity, and the memory of it shot electricity down her spine. She didn’t turn back to Haley until they’d passed.
“His legs are just a part of his body, like my legs are a part of my body. He believes in sports and second chances. And passion. Micah knows what it is to have an all-consuming passion for your job.” Ironically, she admired the very thing that kept them at a distance from each other.
“Okay.” Haley took a sip of her coffee. “I see why that would be attractive for you. Not for me, but you’re not me. But what are you going to do when he gets old. Will he have health problems?”
Haley’s fiancé smoked a pack a day, a fact Ruby chose not to point out. “I wonder if Micah’s father is asking him if I have enough body fat to menstruate so we’ll be able to have children.”
“Lay off, is what you’re saying.”
“Or even the playing field and ask Micah if he’s prepared for my possible joint problems.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
WHEN SHE CAME home from her shift at the shelter, Ruby collapsed into a chair even before making herself a postrun snack. Everything was tired, not only her body. She was tired of not feeling that she knew who she was and how she was supposed to live. She was tired of being afraid to say her name to str
angers. She was tired of being afraid of strangers. Tired of wanting a man who wasn’t certain he wanted her.
She leaned her head back against the chair. Apparently, sitting in NSN’s hot seat, facing down Micah Blackwell, and daring America to turn its back on her hadn’t been as liberating as she’d hoped.
She’d run for so long to please other people that the simple enjoyment of putting one foot in front of the other and letting euphoria fill her mind as her body fought through fatigue felt wrong—as if she shouldn’t be allowed to love to run anymore.
The internet was still solidly against her running in competition. No surprise there, no matter what Micah had said about “rehabilitation.” Of course, she understood people’s feelings about her running in competition. How could she not? But living in the past had nearly suffocated her.
Dotty was still prancing around the living room, expecting more after a ten-mile run. Jodie had been correct when she’d said the dog would never stop, though she’d also said that Dotty would calm down around age five. After doing a little research, Ruby had learned that by calm down, Jodie meant that a ten-mile run would be enough to keep Dotty from being destructive. That kind of contract with life should’ve been offered to Ruby when she was younger—run enough and she wouldn’t destroy the world around her. Unfortunately, she’d done the opposite. All she’d done was run and yet she’d still managed to wreck the lives of everyone around her.
Ruby banged her head against the back of her chair a couple times before opening the drawer of the end table and getting Dotty’s treats. As soon as she heard the bag crinkle, Dotty sat. Ruby wished she could take a lesson from her dog and let go of the past. Her parents had gone on with their lives. Her sister and brother were just fine. Hell, even her coach had finished his prison sentence.
Ruby gave Dotty one treat for sitting, then made her shake for another and lie down for a third. Dotty loved Ruby for the treats, but her dog loved her more for the running. If Ruby couldn’t yet run for herself, she could at least run for her dog.
She’d wrecked her life and disgraced her favorite sport. Those were the crimes she was responsible for, but she couldn’t let those hang on to her forever.
Ruby stood and walked into the kitchen for her postrun snack, Dotty plodding along after her, hoping for more excitement. The only excitement Ruby had to offer her was another cookie, which she made the dog wait for. Ruby got her banana and chocolate milk, then pulled out her laptop. She signed in to the registration for the fifty-mile race that was coming up and corrected her name.
It would serve her and her big ego right if no one noticed.
* * *
RUBY SAT ON the benches the next afternoon at a high school track waiting for Micah and looking forward to a little friendly sprinting competition. Dotty sat beside her, twitching with the excitement of a new place to run.
Coming to the track had been Micah’s idea after she had complained that her sprints weren’t up to her standards. “You can race me,” he’d said. “We’ll go to a track and race for money. Eat dirt in the four hundred, pay the other person a dollar.”
The bargain he’d proposed was so unfair that she’d choked. “In your racing chair? You’ll beat me every time. I’ll be broke after one afternoon.”
His eyes had twinkled and his dimples deepened and she’d known that he knew he had her. “But you’ll still try to beat me, right?”
She should have refused immediately. But the thought of refusing an issued challenge made her teeth clench. “You might have to carry me off the track, but I’ll beat you once.” As she looked up from tying her shoes to see Micah’s car park practically on the field, she wondered if beating him to the track was worth a dollar.
Dotty, however, beat Ruby to the car, where Micah was unloading himself, his wheelchair and his racing chair. The dog was not helping, though she was jumping up and down far enough away from Micah that she wasn’t hindering his progress, either.
“Do you need another hand?”
“You can carry my racing chair over to the bench. It’s in my best interest to wear you out before we even get to the starting line. More money in my pocket.”
His racing chair was lighter than she’d expected it to be, which was silly, because he wouldn’t be able to get the speeds he needed for marathons in a heavy chair. She carried it to the bench while he followed with the rest of his gear. Once he’d gotten everything set up to his preference, she asked, “How do you manage when you’re by yourself?”
“You want to do something bad enough, you figure it out. Or you realize it will never happen and you move on before the nevers sink you.” He shrugged. “I come here because the principal is a huge Texas A&M fan, so he ignores where I park as long as I don’t ruin the field. But having my own pack mule will make setup and takedown easier.”
He smiled blandly at her when she scowled at him for basically calling her an ass. She wasn’t fooled. Once he got strapped into his chair and his helmet on, he looked fearsome and fast. More aerodynamic than she could ever be.
Ruby, Dotty and Micah were lined up at the start when she said, “I don’t know why I agreed to this.”
“Sure you do. Even though beating me around this track will be like trying to leap higher than Michael Jordan at the height of his career, you’re going to try. You’ll tell yourself it’s stupid and you’ll do it anyway, secretly hoping that I eat it on the turns so you have a shot.” His glasses and helmet covered much of his smile, but they couldn’t hide the amusement and approval in his voice. “And at the end, your body will have rediscovered the mechanics of a sprint. We can even do this again, as often as you want, until your body refinds its speed.”
She crouched at the starting line, wishing she had a block for that extra burst at the beginning, even though she would probably trip over it when she crossed the finish. Or maybe Micah nudging it out of the way would give him something to do while he twiddled his thumbs after beating her.
“On the count of three...go!”
At Micah’s signal, Ruby erupted off her feet and ran, pumping her hands for forward momentum and using her feet to shove the track behind her. A controlled fall essentially, and at this speed, the emphasis felt more on the fall than on the controlled. The grass around the edges of the track blurred into one green streak. The cold wind of mid-October made her eyes water. And still she threw herself forward, grasping on to every second.
As predicted, Micah and Dotty were both waiting for her at the finish. Micah had his glasses sitting in his lap and Dotty was hopping about at his feet, ready to play the game again. Ruby was panting. She didn’t look at her watch to see how long that lap had taken her because she’d only be irritated with herself. Natural talent could only make her so fast. If she wanted to win, she needed discipline to get her technique back.
With a sense of mutual understanding, Ruby fell in beside Micah and she walked the track beside him, Dotty trotting along with them. After two laps, Ruby had caught her breath and the grass started to redefine itself into blades. Though by the fifth, she was still wiping tears from her face.
“Are you crying because you didn’t bring enough dollar bills?” Micah asked, just as Ruby was about to fall into a funk thinking about her wasted five years.
Only they weren’t truly wasted. She may have forgotten some of her running technique in those five years, but she’d learned a lot about herself and the world. And herself in the world. In this world, she was going to exhaust herself and give Micah all her money—and she was going to enjoy doing it for herself.
“I brought twenty dollars,” she replied with an arch in her voice to match the arch of her neck as she turned to look at him. “I hope you brought some, too. Cockiness is a sure sign of doom.”
“You haven’t paid me my first dollar yet.”
She scowled, then went over to her gym bag, dug out a dollar
and grabbed a water bottle. Back at Micah’s side, she shoved the crumbled paper into his outstretched hand. “Here.”
“Good,” he said, tucking the bill into his spandex top. “Now I have a dollar in case you beat me. Is some of that water for me?”
She finished her drink and handed the bottle over. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Have you recovered enough to be beaten again?”
“There’s no guarantee you’ll win this time.
“True. But I’m willing to bet more than a dollar that I will.”
“No,” she grumbled. “A dollar bet is fine.” She only had nineteen more with her after all, and she had a lot of training to get in.
“How about you give me another dollar if I can toss the water bottle back to the bench?”
Opposing needs warred within her. She hated giving up any more dollars than she had to, not because it meant she was handing over money. It meant she was losing. But Micah was wearing a muscle-fitting top, and he used to be a quarterback—she’d like to see his throw. She inclined her head. “Okay.”
He looked at the bottle, lifting it up and down slightly to judge the weight of it in his hands. Then he made a show of licking his finger and judging the wind.
“C’mon, get on with it!”
“Fine. Don’t appreciate the art.” And then he threw. The bottle landed on the grass in front of the bench, skidding a bit before finally coming to rest directly under the seat.
“No need to go get another dollar now. I’ll add it to your tab.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself as he put his goggles back on. But the whole act—and the motion of his arm—had been worth more than a dollar.
Ruby crouched at the starting line and looked at him, not responding to his last jab with anything more than an eyebrow raised in challenge. “All talk, or is there game hidden in that chair somewhere?”
“Oh, there’s game. If your britches are ready, we’re on at go.”
The smack talk wasn’t only riling up Ruby; Dotty had also noticed something in the air and was hopping around and barking, waiting for action. At Micah’s “Go!” Ruby took off, only to look behind her and see Dotty running in another direction.
Winning Ruby Heart Page 16
