“Well, not everyone can be as perfect as you, I suppose.”
His eyes changed again, a slight shift in color that seemed to accompany a similar adjustment in mood. He turned his gaze out the window, the judgment in his tone softening until I barely heard his response. “Trust me, I’m far from perfect.”
Before, Liam’s leaving me in the parking lot had pissed him off. Now Cole appeared more sad than anything else. I’d clearly hit another nerve, maybe one connected to the one I’d smacked at the theatre the other day. He wasn’t a hero or perfect. Noted.
“Well, you obviously think you’re better than Liam. And you’re like, royalty or some shit. That’s the rumor.”
“I am royalty or some shit, but it’s just an old title that means very little in the grand scheme of the world outside Scotland. Or even in Scotland, frankly. It doesn’t mean I haven’t made mistakes. As far as Liam—your boyfriend?” I nodded again, mesmerized by the way his lips formed such perfectly rounded words. Not to mention just his lips in general. “I don’t know him, so judging him would be presumptuous. I am merely upset that he left you to suffer alone.”
“Suffer? I’m not a starving orphan—it’s just a little rain.” The protest felt weak coming off my tongue. Every word coming out of Cole’s mouth belied my snap judgment of him, based on both his family and my interaction with Chaney. He seemed genuine, if a little stiff and a bit too keen on the idea that I needed someone to save me.
“Nevertheless.”
“I can take care of myself.”
That made him smile, and both dimples appeared, stealing my breath in a flash. His eyes lightened again and I found myself unable to stop a return grin. “I am quite convinced of that, Ruby Cotton. It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be taken care of, though. In my humble opinion.”
Somewhere in his easy, laughing response, it sounded as though Cole wanted to be the one to take care of me. But wasn’t he doing that right now? He’d effortlessly taken control of my hellacious morning and turned it into warm blankets and dimpled laughter.
It wouldn’t last. He might think he liked me, but his family would hate me. I’d say or do something that reminded him I’d been born in a shack on the bayou, and he’d remember that girls like me didn’t mix with guys like him. And based on the website, a quick tumble wouldn’t even be worth it.
And that’s all I wanted from guys. A good tumble.
The smile fell from my face. This attraction to Cole was the last thing I needed. I had Liam, a guy who didn’t judge me and couldn’t distract me from the future. Flirty, handsome Cole Stuart could bugger off, or whatever the Scottish version of that term happened to be.
“Thanks for the help, Cole. I really appreciate it, but I can go now.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
“You don’t need to drive me home.”
“I know I don’t need to drive you home, but your lips are blue and you’re still shaking. It will bother me the rest of the day, wondering if you got home safe. I have a complex about seeing things through to the end. Not to mention, we had a meeting scheduled this afternoon anyway. We can take care of it on the drive.” He pulled another giant umbrella from underneath the seat.
“Wait, what meeting?” I was pretty sure scheduling a meeting with Cole wouldn’t have slipped my mind.
“I’m in charge of Lambda Homecoming. We’re paired, right? And you’re the social chair?”
I groaned before I could stop it, but it only seemed to amuse Cole further.
He flashed me his dimples again. “Wait one more minute.”
Being bossed around didn’t rate high on my list of things to look for in a guy, but there was something intriguing about Cole’s take-charge charisma. Everything about him made me forget his treatment of Chaney, along with the blatant disdain written all over my website. This was our third encounter, and much like the first two, it lit my curiosity about his low ratings. He didn’t seem like the type to ignore a girl’s needs.
Ruby, stop. Cole is not a mystery you need to solve.
He reached a hand in for me a few minutes later, tucking me in my blanket against his side and dedicating the majority of the umbrella to keeping me dry during the ten steps between the Town Car and the passenger door of my Acura.
Cole waited until I’d ducked out of the weather before he closed the door, then walked around to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel, tossing the wet umbrella into the back. Heat poured from the car’s vents; Cole must have been making sure it was warm before coming to get me. His attention to little niceties made it even harder to believe he’d be a disappointment on a date.
He put the car in reverse and backed up slowly, then pulled onto the street that led back toward campus. “Comfortable?”
I nodded, warming my hands in front of the heating vents. “Thank you.”
“Wow. I didn’t think I’d get a thank you.”
“I have manners, Cole.” It grated, the supposition that Ruby Cotton and her new money parents were brash, uncouth idiots. I knew I played into that image, because honestly it was easier to go ahead and reinforce their assumptions than to keep trying to fruitlessly fight them, but it disappointed me that he bought into the act.
“You have got to be one of the most defensive women I’ve ever met. Far and away the most beautiful, but defensive as hell.”
The compliment took me by surprise, even though I’d caught more than one appreciative glance from him over the past several weeks and he had asked me out twice. Guys usually weren’t so direct. Liam had taken three months to make a move.
I tried to remember if he’d ever called me beautiful, then stopped. Comparing Cole and Liam was not a path that needed to be traveled. Instead of answering him or acknowledging the compliment—or how it did funny things to my stomach—I changed the subject.
“We were going to talk about a schedule for pomping and prepping the skit, right?”
“Yes. And I have contracts for you to sign about the mixer next weekend.”
“What happened to the old Lambda social chair? Nick something?”
“He bailed and I took it over.”
“Yeah, but you’re a senior. Surely there are other people who could have….” I trailed off, watching the tips of his ears turn a strange shade of reddish purple. “Are your ears cold?
He cleared his throat. “I’m fine. The theme is A Heroes Homecoming, so we’re all supposed to do some kind of skit portraying the glory days of a great Whitman alum. Any ideas?”
“I’d rather not have to redo a lot of work because we chose someone who’s taken. Is there anyone you can think of who wouldn’t be an obvious choice?” My duties as social chair bored me to tears. The faster we sorted this out and the execution passed on to my committee members and the new pledges, the better.
“My brother. We’d have dibs on him, too, since we’re all Lambda legacies.”
“All of you? How many Stuart boys are running around Whitman, anyway?”
“I’m the last male. I have twin brothers, Lawren and Lennox, who are in grad school here and my sister Audra just went through Recruitment. Pledged Kappa.” Unmistakable pride tinged his voice. “The brother in question is Gavin, though. He graduated five years ago and has spent the past four in Afghanistan founding schools for orphaned girls.”
“And how did South Florida wrangle all of you away from Cambridge or Oxford?” I crossed myself, making sure to toss him a teasing grin so he didn’t think I was a total heathen.
“Smart girl. Gavin went through a bit of a rebellious stage, and insisted. He and my parents were so happy with his experience here that we all visited, and the rest, as you say, is history.” He grinned back. “Plus, my family isn’t too hung up on tradition, despite the Catholicism.”
For not the first time since Cole Stuart had nudged his way into the periphery of my life, he made me feel guilty for judging him. It had become second nature, growing up constantly being judged and returning the favor kind of
made me hate myself. Whatever secret bedroom shenanigans Cole was hiding, that he came from a great family didn’t seem arguable.
They were like, master do-gooders.
“Okay.”
“Okay? No argument on our hero?” Cole flashed me a quick smile.
My heart stuttered at the sight of his dimples, and the way the fast glance electrified me from head to toe. “How on earth could I argue with schools for Afghan girls? I think it’s great.” I paused, struggling between wanting to know more about him and maintaining my distance.
If Cole ever found out I was responsible for his now suspect reputation, he probably would regret not leaving me outside to melt like the Wicked Witch.
He pulled my Acura into the DE parking lot and found a spot, sliding it into park and twisting to face me. His presence filled the small space in a way that drew my body forward instinctively, as though we were made of complementary electrical charges.
I pressed back against the passenger door, trying to assert the will of my brain.
“Your sister likes Kappa?” My memory tried to recall an Audra Stuart from Recruitment. Surely, given her family, we would have kept her through to the end, but hundreds of girls marched through the house in the span of a few days and memorizing them all was a challenge even after hours of studying. A flash of dark red hair and dimples that matched Cole’s was all I remembered.
“She does. Loves Whitman, not that she really had much of a choice. We needed her here to keep an eye on her.”
“Yes, what girl doesn’t need three older brothers inserting themselves in her dating life,” I commented with a smile. That poor girl. No one would be inserting anything if the twins were half as intimidating as Cole.
“Hey, we’re nice, friendly blokes. Or, we can be.” Cole’s green eyes darkened again as they slid down my neck and over the towel still clutched against my chest. The thought of what my hair and face must look like after a night rolling around in bed, followed by a morning getting drenched in the rain, made me want to dig a hole and crawl into it.
He raised his gaze back to my face. “I can tell you, if Liam had left my baby sister in the rain, he and I would be having some serious words.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not your sister then.” My voice sounded far away and a little breathless for some reason.
Cole shifted toward me and my body overpowered my brain, leaning in an attempt to get closer. His eyes never left mine, cool irritation turning to hot desire in the space of a breath. He lifted a hand and settled it on the side of my neck, thumb swiping lazily back and forth over my pulse, which thudded so hard my ears ached.
“It is a very good thing you’re not my sister,” he said, his voice low and husky.
I didn’t realize I was staring at his mouth until his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. A lightning bolt of desire shot straight through me, ending between my thighs, and I jerked away as though it had struck my brain.
“I, um. Thanks again for the ride.” My face heated and I scrambled for the door handle. “I mean, thanks for the—”
Cole had somehow gotten out of the car and around to my door while I floundered, and he held it open and helped me to my feet. I tugged my hand out of his before I completely drowned in the smell and feel of this guy who slipped through my smokescreen with far too much ease.
“You’re quite welcome. Here.” He handed over my keys, then took a folder his driver had brought around while we’d been bumbling, and passed it to me, too. “Venue contracts. I’ll let the committee know about the Homecoming theme.”
“Okay. Bye.” I ran up the concrete steps and let myself inside, not caring that my shoes were squishing on the polished wood of the foyer. It had never occurred to me to run away from a guy my entire life, but Cole Stuart…there was something about him that scared the shit out of me.
I shook my head, shivering again from the air conditioning, and headed upstairs. There was something about him, all right. He was everything Whitman University had to offer, and that meant he was totally wrong for me. The Stuarts not only had money, they were fucking royalty. The way he talked about his brothers and sister, they were obviously a close family. I could only imagine his parents’ reaction to their youngest son bringing home a bayou rat.
My phone turned back on five minutes later and I had a text from Liam.
Had fun last night. Do it again after Wednesday rehearsal?
Yes. The text proved that Liam wanted to keep hanging out. We could work on things in bed, and in the meantime, I had a guy who didn’t make me feel naked when I wasn’t.
Chapter Eight
It was my last week with the kids at the Coterie, and I had to admit I would miss them. The four hours a week I spent in their enthusiastic presence were my only respite from maintaining my campus image, an act that had never seemed exhausting until I didn’t have to keep it up.
Kids told the truth without thinking, even when they probably shouldn’t, and the relief from having to constantly be on a stage relaxed every muscle every time I stepped through the door.
Cole hadn’t been back. The disappointment coursing underneath my relief proved I’d been right to stay away from him. We’d talked several times about Homecoming, but always a perfunctory conversation after speech or a couple of minutes on the phone. He acted hurt when I escaped, but I didn’t have time to worry about his feelings and protect my own.
The kids were putting on a scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which they’d voted on—they preferred the comedies, even though they usually didn’t get the reason it was supposed to be funny. Caroline and a boy named Randall took the lead, and they all looked adorable in their stitched-together wardrobe. They had worked hard to memorize the short, five-minute performance, and the theatre’s board joined the parents as an audience.
Caro messed up a line or two, her eyes cutting to me each time, but I gave her big, reassuring smiles. She was a good little actress, actually, and covered the mistakes so that no one but she and I would have noticed. She ran up to me afterward, even before she went to find her parents, and flung her spindly arms around my waist.
My chest flooded with the kind of warmth that I’d found at DE and I picked her up into a big hug. “You were fantastic, Caro! Couldn’t have done it better myself.”
She grinned. “Mom said I can come see you in West Side Story next week.”
“Excellent.” I spotted her mom and gave her a smile. “You have more fans waiting. I’ll talk to you later.”
Caroline spun around and greeted her mother, who still looked like the most exhausted person in the world. Doctor Paladino had let me know that Caroline’s father had died in Iraq, and that she and her mother were pretty much on their own. Most of their family lived in California.
Someone touched my elbow and I turned to find Geoff. “Amy said you’ve done an excellent job.”
I shrugged, pride tugging my mouth into a smile. “I had fun.”
It was honest, not bullshit. I wanted to keep helping.
“Well, some of the board members would like to meet the girl who made a bunch of kids take so eagerly to Shakespeare.”
Geoff led me back inside the now mostly empty auditorium. My eyes immediately found Cole’s. He winked and bowed his head in a silent gesture of commendation.
“Ruby Cotton, this is Brad Daniels, Diana Jacobs, Wren Masters, and Bobby Flipkins.” He glanced at Cole, whose hungry eyes hadn’t left my face. “It looks like you know Cole Stuart.”
I shook everyone’s hands, putting faces with names, flushed from the weight of Cole’s gaze. Brad and Bobby were both prominent New York directors who had debuted Tony-nominated shows the last couple of years. I recognized Wren’s name from local theatre, but Diana was new to me. “It’s nice to meet you all.”
“You’re doing a great job with the kids,” Diana said.
“Thank you. I enjoyed it far more than I expected to. It’s kind of a reminder that enthusiasm can’t be faked.”
&n
bsp; They all chuckled, then Bobby Flipkins spoke up. “Well, Geoff here says you’ve got plenty of that. I know Brad and I are both looking forward to your own opening next week.”
Excitement and nerves tightened my stomach. They were coming to my show. Forget Liam and his stupid Bruckheimer movie, and the way Cole did crazy things to my body from across the room. Screw every guy at St. Jude’s and Whitman who thought money mattered more than anything.
I was going to fucking own New York, and it was going to be because I deserved it.
***
“I don’t understand why we can’t just act like we’re together at the theatre,” I grumbled, rubbing my palm across Liam’s almost smooth chest.
“The show opens in a few days, Ruby. I just don’t think we should upset the status quo right now.” He sat up and pulled on a pair of shorts, then walked into the bathroom.
He’d been saying that for the past three weeks, and Liam, like most actors, harbored superstitions about changes to routine. The show still needed some work, and the last thing I wanted was to distract everyone’s focus.
Keeping quiet for the time being was probably for the best.
“Want some dinner? I have leftover Chinese.” He stood in the doorway, stretching his arms and displaying his tanned stomach.
Not that I hadn’t seen it. I wrinkled my nose, my growing irritation with him and this relationship making me a little nauseous. “Let’s go out.”
“I don’t have the cash, ba—er, Ruby. Plus, I’m kinda tired.”
I pulled on a T-shirt, then rummaged around for my shorts. It wouldn’t do any good to offer to buy; Liam had made it clear that the financial imbalance in our relationship irked him. He might not care where my parents’ cash came from, but it occasionally rubbed him the wrong way that I came from money. He insulted Whitman too often for my taste, apparently forgetting that I went there, and my knee-jerk reaction to defend the university still surprised me.
Go Owls.
In reality, I had started thinking about moving on. Liam’s constant preening and not-too-subtle reminders that his acting career was taking off bored me, but I’d stick it out through West Side Story’s run. No reason to make one of my favorite parts of life awkward.
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