Page 120 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

Nathan grinned. “Don’t believe everything you hear. Unless it’s flattering.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I kept my voice light, but my jaw ticked slightly. I wasn’t threatened—not truly. But I was learning something new about myself in real time: I didn’t like unknown variables where Ruby was concerned.

He wasn’t here to steal her away. That wasn’t it. But he reminded me that she’d had a whole life before me, filled with people and stories and moments I’d never touch. Maybe that was what dug under my skin—not jealousy, but the echo of everything I hadn’t been around to protect her from.

Ruby nudged me lightly. “Don’t worry, Doc. Nathan’s just here for the opening. Right?”

Nathan chuckled. “Right. Just here to admire the garden, get lost in the poetry, and dance badly at the party.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Hazel called, carrying a tray of cookies past us. “The dance part. Not the poetry. I leave that to Eleanor.”

Nathan winked at her. “Save me a spin.”

Hazel fanned herself dramatically. “Oh no. Not another one with charm. Cedar Springs can’t handle it.”

The group dispersed slowly as folks moved on to other preparations, leaving me and Ruby momentarily alone under the archway we’d hung lanterns from earlier that morning. The sun filtered through the vines, casting golden patterns across her face.

“He seems nice,” I admitted.

Ruby tilted her head. “That sounded painful.”

I smirked. “It kind of was.”

She laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “You don’t have to worry about him.”

“I’m not worried,” I said. Then, quieter, more honest: “I’m still learning how to be soft and sure at the same time.”

Ruby’s expression softened. She reached up, her fingers grazing my jaw. “You’re doing better than you think.”

I leaned into her touch. “He rattled me for a second. Not because I think he’s a threat. But because he reminded me that I haven’t always shown up for you the way I wanted to.”

Her brows drew together, surprised. “Damien, you’ve built a life with me from the ground up. I don’t need perfect. I need present. And you’re here. That’s everything.”

I pulled her into a hug, resting my chin on her head. She fit so perfectly against me, like a puzzle piece I hadn’t known was missing until I found it.

“Think there’s a version of me,” I murmured, “that doesn’t get defensive or broody every time a smooth-talker shows up?”

“Nope,” she said immediately, voice muffled against my chest. “But that’s okay. I like my grump with a side of growth.”

I chuckled, tightening my hold on her. “I like my chaos with a dash of grace.”

She pulled back slightly to grin up at me. “Look at us. Trading affirmations like a couple of reformed self-help junkies.”

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll get matching T-shirts made.”

“You’d wear a matching T-shirt?” she asked, eyes wide.

“For you? I’d wear glitter.”

“Damien Cole in glitter. Be still my heart.”

We laughed again, the kind that loosened something tight in my chest. For all the change I’d undergone since coming back to Cedar Springs, it was moments like these that proved to me I hadn’t just built something new—I’d become someone new.

And I liked him. I liked who I was when I was with her.

A voice called from behind us. “Hey, if you two are done gazing soulfully, we’ve got paper lanterns to string and a lemonade stand collapsing under the weight of too much charm.”

Hazel, again. That woman had impeccable timing.

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