Page 40 of Stuck With the Best Man

She nods. “Yeah. Totally.”

I reach out and lightly touch the top of her forearm. I don’t know why I do it, only that it feels like the only thing I can really do to offer some form of comfort.

“I’m going to get you home, Ruby,” I promise.

I don’t want to keep being the villain in her narrative. If I can’t get her back to the city in time for class tomorrow morning, it will mean I messed up yet another thing for her. Of course, logically, I know that it’s not my fault Mother Nature decided to dump all her fury upon New England’s coast in the middle of an otherwise pleasant June, but still. I want to do right by her. I need to.

I reach for my wallet.

“No, let me pay,” Ruby protests. “I ordered more than you.”

I give her a firm look that, thankfully, is stern enough to freeze her in place as she reaches for her purse. I’m the billionaire brat. She’s the young artist. There’s absolutely no version of reality in which I am going to allow her to pay for our dinner, and she seems to see that in my gaze.

She presses her lips together and sits back against the cushioned booth.

I slip a fifty-dollar bill under the corner of the little basket holding the sugar packets. It’s more than enough to cover our meals and the tip.

“Come on, ballerina,” I say as I rise from the booth. “Let’s get you back to the big city.”

Chapter Thirteen: Ruby

Theskyisspittingrain. It’s practically biblical. I’m tempted to call Gram and ask if the winds have anything to say about our fate, but I also don’t want to give her the opportunity to suggest that fate and destiny are conspiring with Mother Nature to force me and Ben into close proximity. She basically already hinted at that when she slipped those stupid rocks into Ben’s pockets.

As if he can sense the direction of my thoughts, Ben starts digging around in the front pocket of his jeans with one hand on the wheel. It’s completely dark now, and even though the traffic has lightened on this scenic highway route, the storm doesn’t seem to be going anywhere as we continue pushing south. Ben can barely go more than forty miles an hour thanks to how heavily it’s raining and how hard the wind is gusting.

Basically, I’m doomed.

“So,” Ben says, finally yanking his hand out of his pocket. “Are you going to tell me what these actually are?”

In his outstretched palm are three crystals. If only to ensure he can keep both hands on the wheel, I take them from him.

“What makes you think I know?”

Ben huffs out a laugh. “Because I saw what your grandmother’s house looks like. And I heard a rumor there was a wise woman of the beach. In fact, I’m pretty sure I saw her myself out on the cliffs. I put two and two together quite easily.”

I groan. That old woman needs to stop climbing around on those jagged rocks. Mythical guardian sirens or not, that part of the shoreline is seriously unsafe.

I pick up the smooth oval stone. By the light of my phone, I can tell that it’s a soft pink.

“This is rose quartz,” I tell him. “It’s a soothing stone, meant to inspire passion and support emotional healing. It also represents love and is thought to attract that sort of nonsense into your life.”

He snorts loudly. “‘That sort of nonsense’?”

“That’s how I see it.”

Ben makes a sound in the back of his throat that I can’t translate, then says, “What about the others?”

“The tiny one is a raw… um, ruby. It represents passion and energy.”

I stop talking, suddenly feeling nervous. I can’t believe Gram’s audacity. She doesn’t even know about that day at the Strand. She had absolutely no reason to think that I had any connection whatsoever with a random guy who blew into town.

“That’s it?”

“Yep.”

I can feel his eyes on me for a brief moment, but I am very purposefully staring down at the stones in my hand.

“And the third one? I thought it might be tourmaline.”

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