“Attractiveness isn’t the issue, Dad. I played professional rugby, I didn’t do battle in a Spartacus-style arena. I can handle myself around attractive women. Besides, Layla isn’t my type.” Until he mentioned it, I hadn’t even really noticed she was attractive at all. She’s blond and petite. I prefer dark hair and an athletic build, like Ruby. “What about local renovations? It would be good to work on some projects directly with you.” The best way to appeal to my father is through his ego.
He smiles and taps his pen on the arm of his chair. “That will happen in the future, once you’ve had sufficient training.”
“You don’t think I would benefit from having your expertise?” I try to tamp the frustration. I don’t want to close doors with him before I’ve even managed to pick the lock.
“You will always have my expertise. I’ll oversee all aspects of the projects you work on. But you need a good year of getting your feet wet and learning the company ropes. I want you to be comfortable with all the top-level employees.”
“When does ground break for the project in Germany?”
“Late fall, if things go smoothly. There will be other projects I’ll want you to have a hand in, as well. The hotels in California need attention and there’s property in Costa Rica that we’re interested in.”
He’s talking more travel, like I knew he would. I don’t want more travel. Except more travel would mean I’d need someone to stay and take care of Tiny and Francesca. It’s an excuse to have Ruby stick around longer or at least stay at my place periodically. If she still wants to. As soon as this meeting is over I need to talk to her. Hopefully she’s awake now.
“What about the New York renovations?”
He’s already looking at his phone, pretending to check emails. It’s what he does when he’s either done with the discussion or he wants to avoid a topic. Unfortunately, I’m his son, and I’m a lot like he is in many regards, so I refuse to take the hint for what it is.
“Aren’t there plans to start those in the new year? Isn’t Griffin working on the renovation project for the Times Square location? Now that I’m on board he and I could work together. The project would move faster then, wouldn’t it? We could start right after New Year’s, that way we won’t miss out on prime summer tourism and we’ll still get the holiday business.”
My father stops typing an email to regard me. “You’ve been thinking about this?”
“Of course. New York has so much opportunity for growth. I’d love to be involved in that project.” I bite my tongue before I can say I want to make this my hub.
“It’s a ways off. We can talk about it later.”
It’s not a no. I’ll take it.
* * *
I’d like to say I see Ruby when I get home. I don’t. I send her a message asking how she’s doing, then I fall asleep on the couch and drag my ass to my bedroom around one in the morning.
I don’t have a response when I wake up the next morning. I debate knocking on her door, but I have no idea what time she got in, and since she hasn’t responded to my message I leave it alone, although I don’t want to.
My morning is full of meetings again, discussions about the projects in the UK and abroad, and I’m fully immersed in the building, project management side of the company. I understand what my father is doing. He doesn’t want me to settle in one area of the business yet, because there are so many sides to it, and if I’m going to run it jointly with my brothers eventually, I need to understand all aspects. And I need to be able to work with both of them, no matter how challenging it is.
By noon I still haven’t heard from Ruby. I either need a drink or to punch someone out. Or to talk to Ruby. The latter would be my preference.
I have a decent reason to contact her that will inevitably get a response: Francesca’s feeding schedule.
Now that I’m home we need to communicate about that kind of thing so we don’t overfeed her. I had a routine, but I’m guessing with Ruby’s odd hours it’s changed significantly over the past month.
I make sure the first message I send is convoluted enough that she would require an explanation to understand exactly what I was taking about.
It works. Her response comes a few minutes later in the form of several question marks.
I close my office door, turn the lock, and hit the video call button. Ruby answers on the third ring.
“Hey.” Her voice is gravelly and low.
I’m not looking at her, though, I’m looking at the ceiling of her bedroom. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but I needed to get up. What’s up? That text was worse than your handwriting. It made no sense.”
“Sorry about that. I realized with me being back Francesca’s feeding schedule might be a little out of whack. I thought it would be easier to talk about it.”
I hear a drawer open. It’s a little squeaky. “I never thought of that. I’ve just been feeding her like usual. Should I not? Do you want to be the one to do it?”
“Why don’t we keep it the way it is until we have a chance to sit down together?”
“Okay. I can do that.”
I’m still looking at the ceiling and I can hear the patter of feet and a rustle. “What’re you doing?”
“Getting dressed.”
“Did you answer the phone naked?”
There’s motion and suddenly I’m looking at Ruby’s arched brow. “You’re really asking me that?”
I fight the grin that’s trying to spread across my face. “It’s a legitimate question.”
She’s propped the phone up on the dresser, based on my view of the room. “You know, you can just call me without the video component now, like normal people do.”
“It’s a habit. I like seeing you.” And feeling you, like I did in my bed the other night, but I’m getting to that.
“I’m so attractive when I’m half asleep.”
And she’s given me the perfect segue. “Speaking of being half-asleep, do you want to talk about what happened the other night?”
Her gaze shifts away and she busies herself with something outside of my line of view, so I’m only looking at her chin. “I’m sorry, the other night?” Her voice is surprisingly even.
“Are we pretending it didn’t happen?”
“Pretending what didn’t happen?” She’s still not making eye contact.
“You. In my bed.”
Her brow furrows. “You mean while you were away? I told you I fell asleep in there a couple of times. I changed the sheets before you came home. If it was a big deal you should’ve said something.”
“I’m talking about you in my bed with me in it.”
She blinks a couple of times. She’s giving away nothing. A sly smile spreads across her face and her voice drops to a sultry whisper. She drags a finger down the side of her neck. I follow the movement, hoping she’ll go lower, to the breast I cupped not that long ago. “Have you been dreaming about me, Bane?
My eyes snap back up to her face. The answer to that question is yes. For the past several weeks I’ve been dreaming about her nonstop. “You were in my bed the other night.”
She laughs. “Was I now?”
Now it’s my turn to frown. There’s no way I dreamed that. It was far too visceral. A knock at my office door prevents me from asking more questions and verifying that I’m not losing my mind over this woman. Griffin taps his watch through the glass pane. I check the time. Shit. I have a meeting in five minutes. “I have to go.”
“Do I need to feed Francesca?”
“I did it this morning. She just needs playtime.”
“I love playtime.” Her grin is pure sexual evil right before the screen goes blank.
It looks like the video flirting is still on. I have to do some creative rearranging in my pants before I get out of my chair.
I grab my laptop, notepad, and file folder keeping them at waist level. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to shield an issue in my pants.
* * *
I go into the office on Saturday and work from home on Sunday. I get up early, because I’m incapable of sleeping in, and go for a run on the treadmill. By nine I’m showered and there’s still no sign of life from Ruby’s room. The only way I know she’s home is because her shoes are by the door.
I settle in at my computer with a coffee and pull up my research files. The past weeks have been exhausting mentally. I’m beginning to grow accustomed to using my brain for this type of analytic purpose, but it’s been an adjustment. I’m surrounded by pie charts and graphs. Comparative data analysis was never my favorite part of marketing, but I learned how to be good at it.
It’s noon when I hear movement in the kitchen. It’s followed by muttering and the sound of the fridge door opening. I stay where I am, eavesdropping.
I debate whether I should make myself known, when I hear a big yawn and the patter of her feet moving across the floor. “Morning Tiny,” she says, then follows it with, “Morning hotness.”
I think maybe she’s talking to me, but when I swivel in my chair I discover she’s standing in front of the ostentatious picture on my wall of me scoring a goal for last year’s Championship game. That photo was taken about ten minutes before I blew out my knee.
Ruby’s staring up at the image. She takes a sip from her glass. “Why aren’t you shirtless?”
“If I was shirtless no one would know what number I am,” I reply.
Ruby startles with a gasp and the glass slips from her fingers. It hits the floor and shatters at her feet, orange juice and shards forming a dangerous moat around her.
I push out of my chair. “Shit. Sorry. Don’t move.”
Her face is the color of my rugby jersey in the picture, but she does what I ask and stays where she is. I skirt around the mess on the floor and head for the front door, shoving my feet into the first pair of shoes I can find. I return to where Ruby is still standing, a gorgeous, embarrassed jewel in the middle of a glass and orange juice puddle.
“Let’s get you out of the danger zone.” I wrap my hands around her waist and lift her up. She grabs my shoulders, and leans into me, her chest pressing against mine.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” I set her down, but I’m having difficulty letting go.
“I didn’t realize you were here.” She can’t meet my gaze. Her hands slide down my chest and she pushes back. “Let me get a broom and a mop so I can clean that up.”
“I’ll get it. You’re not walking around without shoes.” I finally release her so I can take care of the problem in the middle of the floor. It’s a good thing Francesca is sleeping in her cage. Well, she’s not sleeping anymore, but at least she’s safe.
Ruby seems to realize I’m right and stays put while I grab towels and a garbage can.
“Can you grab my flip-flops, please?”
I pass them to her and we tackle the mess in silence. Once the juice is cleaned up and the bulk of the glass is managed, Ruby gets out the vacuum cleaner, while I get out the mop and fill a bucket with soapy water.
“I’m so sorry about this. I thought I was alone,” she mumbles, still embarrassed as she winds the cord of the vacuum cleaner back up.
“I figured as much when you started talking to my poster like it was going to answer you.”
She grimaces and gives me a dirty look. “Thanks for just letting that go.”
“Would you feel better about my razzing you if I take my shirt off?”
“Ugh. I’m going back to bed.” She turns to leave but I grab her wrist, stopping her. I don’t know what’s happened since I’ve come back from London, but I don’t like the awkwardness between us.
“Wait. Don’t. I’ll stop. Come have something to eat with me.”
“I have to get ready for rehearsal.”
“What time do you have to be there? I can drive you. Come sit with me. You have to eat before you go, right? Let’s have lunch.” Shit. I sound really fucking desperate right now. Maybe because I am. “I haven’t seen you since I got back, Ruby. It’s like you’re avoiding me.”
Her eyes drop.
“Are you?”
She fidgets with her fingers. This isn’t the Ruby I’m used to. “I’ve been working and so have you.”
“Is it because of what happened the other night? You ending up in my bed?”
“I wasn’t really awake.”
“So you admit it.” Thank fucking Christ. I thought I was losing my damn mind.
That gets me an annoyed glare, which I like a lot better than this sudden insecurity. “Are you serious with this?”
“You had me questioning whether or not I was imagining things. I knew it was way too visceral to be a dream.”
Ruby purses her lips. “You’re going to get on me about this now, too? It was an accident.”
“You’re more than welcome to have more accidents like that any time you want.”
Ruby’s mouth drops open. I want to close the space between us. I want to slip my thumb into her mouth and feel her lips close around it. I want to know if she’ll suck or bite, but I have a feeling if I do, I’m going to create more distance rather than less.
“Well it wouldn’t have happened if you’d been smart enough to lock your door!” she fires back.
“Like you’ve been locking yours?”
She blinks. “Why are you trying to get into my room when I’m sleeping?”
“Because you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I have not!”
“Have too.”
She plants her fists on her hips. “Is this a kindergarten fight? Are you going to stick your tongue out and say neener-neener?”
I can’t and don’t want to contain my grin. I can see she’s trying to keep a straight face, but is unable to maintain it. Her grin is exactly what I need to see.
“I missed you this week.” I take her hand and tug her toward the kitchen. “Come hang out with me before you have to leave.”
Her fingers wrap around mine and squeeze for a second. “Okay.”
* * *
The following Friday, Armstrong, his friend Drew, some guy I’ve never met before and I’m not sure I like, and my brothers follow me down the hall to my condo. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the guys over to watch a game, and I’m not sure how well it’s going to go with the way Lex keeps making snide comments to Armstrong every chance he gets. Those two are competitive, particularly when it comes to women, and I really never understood why.
But tonight, since Ruby’s out until who knows what time, I figured it would be good for me to do something other than wait for her to come home. It’s starting to be a problem. Well, it’s been a problem for a while, but it’s getting worse. Ever since the night she ended up in my bed.
I’d like to say I’ve figured out a way to manage this situation, but I haven’t. Ruby’s hours are opposite mine, so we’re rarely home at the same time and I’ve been stuck at the office until late almost every day this week so we haven’t seen much of each other and when we do she’s always skittering away like I make her nervous. Even the innuendo-laden banter has died since my return. I can’t corner her long enough to find out what the hell is going on.
Tonight there’s no sexual tension to contend with because Ruby’s working. I hold my thumb to the censor, waiting for my print to register. There’s a brief lull in Armstrong’s monologue and the sound of bass registers. It vibrates through my feet and my hand as I turn the knob. Maybe Ruby left the TV on, or the stereo.
Neither hypothesis is correct, I find, as soon as I open the door.
The sight I’m greeted with is immediately stored in the vault in my head labeled “Jerk It.” In the middle of my living room are five women. Five scantily clad women, wearing heels, with their asses facing the door.
I can pick Ruby’s out immediately. She’s on the far right. Closest to me. She’s wearing my favorite fucking shorts.
“Is this a surprise bachelor party? Did you buy me strippers?” Armstrong sounds far too excit
ed about this.
“They’re not strippers,” I snap.
Except the way these women are moving, the sway of hips and the shaking of booty makes me question whether or not what I’ve just said is true.
They do some kind of dirty, thrusty spin, until they’re facing the door. They’re all so caught up in the synchronized routine and following the one in the middle, who is shouting directions, that they fail to notice us right away. My focus is solely on Ruby and the way her leg does this pinwheeling thing, followed by a kick in which she catches her ankle, while it’s beside her ear.
That level of flexibility will be fantastic in bed. When I get her back into mine. I would like that to be right now.
“I know the one on the end.” Drew points at Ruby.
As she releases her leg she notices me, and the rest of the guys standing in the doorway.
Her perfect, pouty mouth, forms the words oh shit, but I can’t hear them because the music is so loud. She stumbles a little, her eyes going wide. She runs, in heels that look rather dangerous, across the room and stops the music.
“What’re you doing?” The woman in the center yells. “We’re in the mid—”
Ruby cuts her off, eyes on me. “I thought you were out tonight.”
“I thought you said you were out,” I reply. My voice is gravel-truck-rumble low.
“You said you were watching the game with the guys.” Ruby’s is atypically high.
“I am. You said you had rehearsal.”
“I do. We are. I’m so sorry. When you said you were watching the game I thought you meant at a bar, not here.” Ruby’s a little sweaty, her bangs are damp and sticking to her forehead. There’s a sheen to her skin and her cheeks are flushed. It’s very similar to how I imagine she might look when I’m making her come, hard and repeatedly.
She’s also wearing so little that it’s easy to imagine such an event rather vividly. She’s paired her tiny shorts with a sports bra. Her abs looks incredible. All of her looks incredible. The bra isn’t one of those ones that reduces a chest into a uni-boob state, though. It’s strappy and sexy and it looks a little complicated to take off, like something I might accidentally tear in my zeal to get her naked. Which I am very interested in doing right now.
The Shacking Up Series Page 22
