Page 44 of Freeing Ruby

I honestly don’t know what to say, so I do what feels right in the moment. I slide a hand behind her neck and draw her closer. And then I lean forward to meet her halfway and kiss her.

She gasps softly, and then her eyelids drift shut. She leans into the moment, her lips clinging to mine. She tastes like peppermint, and my body responds like she’s oxygen and I’m suffocating.

When I attempt to deepen the kiss, she pulls back, her eyes flashing wide open in surprise. She touch her lips. “Wow.”

Wow? That’s not the usual response I get when I kiss a woman. Then something dawns on me. “Ruby, have you ever had a boyfriend?”

When she shakes her head, I want to kick myself. Of course, she’s never had a boyfriend. She hasn’t left her apartment in two years. And before that, she attended both high school and university online from her home. When would she have had time to get out and mingle? Meet someone? Never.

She looks mortified. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—oh, my god, I’m sorry. Please forget this ever happened, okay?” And then she turns and lies on her side facing away from me.

Shit. “Ruby, I—”

“No, don’t say anything. Please.”

* * *

I can’t sleep. Not only did I fuck up with Ruby, but I’m racking my brain trying to figure out who’s stalking her—and why.

I could kick myself for misreading Ruby’s intentions. She gave me a simple peck on the cheek, like she’d give to a friend. It wasn’t an invitation of a sexual nature. And I misread the cue and kissed her. Really kissed her.

And the car alarm tonight? That was directed at me. Someone hired those two thugs to jump me. Probably the same person who hired that kid to throw rocks at Ruby’s window. Right now the only suspect I have is Darren. He clearly thinks I’m encroaching on his territory. He’s been pretty upfront about his feelings where I’m concerned. But I have zero proof.

I roll onto my side to face Ruby. I think she’s finally asleep. Her breathing has been steady and even for the past hour. Damn it, I shouldn’t have kissed her. It was so damn presumptuous of me. I’ve worked so hard to earn her trust, and I might have thrown all that away in one impetuous mistake. I’m surprised she didn’t ask me to go back to sleeping on the couch.

I turn onto my back and start counting backward from one hundred. Maybe the sheer boredom of it will put me to sleep. One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight…

The first thing I notice when I wake the next morning is a soft, warm weight pressed against my right side. I don’t even need to open my eyes to know it’s Ruby. I can smell her strawberry shampoo. I lie still, careful not to move, careful not to wake her. I want to enjoy this moment for as long as I can.

Chapter 16

Ruby

When I wake up the next morning, I see that Miguel’s side of the bed is empty. I lay my hand on the sheet where he slept and find it cold. The memory of him kissing me last night returns with a rush, and I’m both thrilled and mortified.

He kissed me!

My face heats up as a wave of dizziness washes through me. Surely he didn’t mean to. Why would he? I’m a mess. A neurotic, agoraphobic, paranoid mess. I live like a hermit, shut away from the rest of the world. From life. The only time I see the light of day is when I look out my windows.

I climb out of bed and pull my robe on over my nightgown. Then I sneak across the hall to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. I hear sounds coming from the living room—Miguel huffing, breathing hard, grunting. He must be lifting weights. After brushing the tangles from my hair and putting it up in a pony tail, I leave the bathroom and head to the kitchen.

Sure enough, Miguel is lifting dumbbells, alternating arm curls, his biceps bunching and flexing.

“Good morning,” he says breathlessly as I pass by.

I glance back at him, forcing a smile on my face. “Good morning.” Then I get a glimpse of his face—at his black eye, the swollen cut on his cheek, and his swollen lower lip. He got hurt last night because of me, and I feel awful. “How’s your face? Does it hurt much?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, brushing off my concern. He lowers both dumbbells to the floor, then straightens and put his hands on his hips as he tries to catch his breath. He’s dressed in a pair of black shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt which is all very distracting.

I continue to the kitchen where I put on a pot of coffee. “Would you like some coffee?”

He nods as he leans down to grab the dumbbells again. “Yes, please.” Then he grimaces as he resumes lifting.

I wonder if he’s sore from last night. I try not to stare as I go about making coffee—try and fail miserably. My gaze keeps going to his mouth, and I remember the feel of his lips on mine. I can’t imagine anyone better to share my first kiss with.

While the coffeemaker is doing its thing, I go get dressed—jeans and a T-shirt. When I return from my bedroom, there’s a knock at the door. I freeze. No one should be knocking at my door at this early hour.

Miguel sets his weights down and goes to look out the peephole. “It’s Darren.”

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