Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Ruby
Don’t threaten me with a good time.
Embarrassment continued to flood my system even the next morning. I couldn’t quit throwing myself at him. He’d practically held up a billboard last night that said he wasn’t interested in anything long term. His stated disinterest in company or marriage had danced a little too close to my fantasies.
I had to be realistic. Tenor was just another guy. He was kind and considerate. He’d kissed me until I couldn’t think straight. But he was a guy, and when it came to men, I was never their pick. In Tenor’s case, no one was.
I tied my hair back and went out to the porch. It was after lunch and Tenor hadn’t returned. He’d messaged that they’d had some cows get out, he’d be a while, and to help myself to anything in the fridge.
His fridge was pristine. Gleaming on the inside. It looked as staged as the rest of the house. If he said he rented this out to vacationers, I wouldn’t be surprised. The cabin was gorgeous, but the longer I was here, the less lived in it appeared.
I compiled a ham sandwich, then ate at the table and studied the place. No bookshelves. There was a corner that was completely wide open. Had something been stored there at one time?
Tenor Bailey was a mystery I wanted to keep working on, but I shouldn’t. I’d only get my hopes up again. It was bad enough that I was giddy for our date tonight. More excited than I’d ever been. Was it because I knew we weren’t going anywhere? All the pressure was off?
My anticipation could also be from Tenor. He was town royalty. When I was younger, Dad would ask me about school and regale me with his glory days. The disappointment on his face when I confessed I hadn’t joined the tennis team had stayed with me. Or when he’d ask about my friends or who I was dating.
Your best days are passing you by, kiddo. You gotta live a little and get your nose out of those silly books. People are going to think you’re desperate.
I ate my sandwich and tried to forget Dad’s words. When I was done, I went into the guest room that lacked all life with its beige comforter and white walls and dug my book out of my bag.
Tenor had a porch swing that was calling my name and a view I’d sell myself for. If only Tenor was taking bids.
The rolling hills were blanketed with pine trees. The same pine trees soared above the cabin. Tenor’s land was tucked farther northwest of Mae’s house, close to the forest, and the terrain was more rugged hills. The mountains were so close I could touch them.
I appreciated the view... and then dove into my phone. I pulled up other Montana distilleries and screenshotted any posts showcasing them out and about in the community. I had tentatively brought this up to Wynter, but when she approached me about the wedding, I wanted to be ready with data.
After opening a spreadsheet, I collated my observations along with screenshots and source distilleries, then branched out to Wyoming and Colorado. I’d do more states while at work. Then I pulled up some influencers I recalled were getting married and scrolled through their reception shots, zeroing in on the comments to glean what people liked and disliked.
I had a whole marketing plan formed by the time I put my phone down and picked up my book. I was in the mountains, not just looking at them out windows. It was relaxation time.
I had been reading for a couple of hours, enjoying the light breeze and listening to birds squawk and chirp and the swing squeak when Tenor pulled up in his pickup and parked in the garage tucked beside the house. His footsteps sounded heavy as he grew closer.
I closed my book and devoured his swagger. His easy gait was strong and sure. He wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat, but his hair was crushed against his scalp like he’d had one on all morning. His loose shirt was untucked, but couldn’t hide the width of his shoulders. He crested the four steps in one leap, his boots thumping on the floorboards.
“How’s it going?” He leaned against the railing.
My hormones went haywire at the relaxed, long-legged cowboy. He ruffled his hair and some strands fell over his forehead, hiding him again.
“Good.” I wouldn’t mention that I had spent much of my time working. It’d been held against me in the past. Put that goddamn phone down . Half the time, I had expected Brock to finish with and make me some dinner . No, I wouldn’t reveal everything. I spread a hand over my book, instantly protective.
He glanced down. “ Pride and Prejudice ?”
“Yes, it’s a favorite. I read it all the time.” My lie tasted sour, but I was used to hiding what I read.
“I read it once.”
“Really?” I had too. Once was enough. “Did you like it?”
“Wasn’t my thing.”
“What is?” What did he do all day?
He shrugged and squinted over the hills. “If I’m not working at the distillery, I’m on the ranch. Not much time for reading.”
If my lie tasted sour, his response was downright acrid. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Perhaps like me, he’d gotten shit for his taste in books. Hurt skimmed over the surface of my skin and it was laughable. If I wasn’t willing to be transparent with him, how did I expect him to be honest with me? He had no reason to be. Couldn’t we be at least friends while we churned through the fake dating pool?
I took the fake book jacket cover off. “I’m not actually reading Jane Austen.”
His brow creased, and he leaned forward to look at the real cover of my book. The shirtless man with a smoldering stare gazed right back at him.
“I read a lot of different genres,” I explained. “Thrillers. I love psychological thrillers because there’s less gore on the page. Fewer gruesome scenes. Some women’s fiction. I used to be into fantasy...” I ran my lower lip between my teeth. Dad’s laughter when I had shown him what I was reading rang through my head. The curl of disgust on Brock’s lips when I spent money on books with a guy on the cover or a dragon. Or both.
“You like genre fiction?”
Genre fiction was a good description but not entirely accurate. I enjoyed most genre fiction. I devoured one genre in particular. “Mostly romance, really.”
He returned to his relaxed stance, folding his arms over his chest.
Whoa. The way that position anchored the fabric of his shirt to his chest started a throb between my thighs that was just wrong. We were talking about books. I was a guest in his house, and last night he’d admitted to not wanting visitors.
But he hadn’t made fun of my taste.
“Tell me about your favorite book,” he asked.
His question surprised me. I didn’t sense a taunt or an underlying purpose to explain why romance books shouldn’t have a place in my life like one of my exes had tried to do. That was likely because he had thought orgasms were mythical and had been afraid one of my books would reveal they weren’t.
I rearranged the fake book cover over my novel just to have a place for it. And because the chest made me wonder what Tenor looked like without a shirt. “I have a lot of favorites.”
He remained quiet.
Discussing this with him pumped my cheeks and my belly full of heat. “One of my favorites is actually fan fiction,” I finally answered. Why had I thought honesty was the best policy?
“Cool.” If he was shocked I’d admitted to loving fan fiction, he didn’t show it. Maybe he didn’t know what it was. Did a lot of distillery-owning cowboys read fanfic? “What makes you like it more than others?”
I swallowed hard. Brock had brayed like a donkey when I’d told him. “It is unique. Something different.”
His sharp gaze narrowed. “Has someone made you feel like shit about it before?”
I nodded, my gaze skating away. “I’ve been accused of working too much and hiding in fantasy worlds.” As if my boyfriend couldn’t get off his computer when I walked through the door and give me a kiss.
“That sucks.” Something weighed heavy in his tone like he knew how it felt to have a personal passion get laughed at. Had he ducked out of a book club because his girlfriend had said it was the biggest waste of time he’d ever heard of?
“It does,” I agreed.
“I like to work a lot too.” He crossed to me, his shadow falling over my lap. He gently pried my hands off my book, then he removed the cover and set it beside me on the swing. “This is a no-judgment zone.”
“You’re judging me about hiding my books,” I teased to keep from passing out from how close he was and the way he was bent over me.
The corner of his mouth tipped up and he stepped away.
I didn’t want him to leave me alone. Words piled on my tongue. I could explain my favorite fan fiction one more time. “It’s a dark story, but the thing that drew me in and held me hostage was that the hero did everything for her. Everything he did was for her—you’d have to read the story.” Because I was not explaining a dark romance to Tenor. My heart would not survive. “But once she was in his life, it was her. And I just loved that. His entire motivation became her. That all hooked me, but I loved the way it ended. The war was over and it was just them. Living life. Being normal and happy together.” I wiggled my fingers in the air. “Wizards and witches living happily ever after. It’s not realistic, I know.”
“Neither are superhero movies and no one gives guys shit about those.” When I snapped my mouth shut, he continued, “It’s the principle behind them. Heroes would do anything for justice. Heroes would do anything to protect what’s right. Heroes dedicate their lives to what’s important and people celebrate them for it. But in the end, they do it so others—and themselves—can live a normal, quiet life.”
I blinked. Whoa. I’d never heard movies explained like that. I enjoyed them, but they were nothing more than entertainment with attractive leads. More than that, Tenor had understood exactly what I had been saying. I didn’t need a man in tights with a cape to keep my car from falling off a bridge. I needed a guy who asked about my day because he really wanted to know.
He pushed a hand through his hair. “I’ve gotta get cleaned up and then we’ll go out.”
“Oh, I need to get dressed.” While thinking long and hard about why I’d taken Brock back twice.
His gaze raked down my body. I wore blue shorts that I often used as pajama bottoms and an orange Zoo Boise T-shirt. “You look fine.”
I most certainly did not, but I appreciated his effort. His goal was to show me how much more I deserved in a relationship, and he’d already made his point. I fanned myself. “Tenor. Stop. You’re going to ruin me for other men.”
His eyes darkened. “Anything you wear looks good, and it’s just Curly’s.”
One thing I knew about Tenor was that he didn’t waste words. I’d take that response and bottle it up to use the rest of my life.
He pushed off the railing. “But if you want to wear that skirt again from last night, I won’t complain.” Then he disappeared into the house.
The skirt from last night I had worn hoping he’d like it. I bit back a grin and kicked the swing back, gazing across the trees. My heartbeat spiked when he got that hot look in his eye. Tenor spun me one way and then the other. How was I going to get through this date without tripping over myself and falling for him?
Tenor
Ruby walked out of the guest room. Her hair spilled onto her shoulders and was pinned up at the sides. Her curls flared out around the clips. She was wearing the skirt. She smoothed her hands over it, her smile timid.
I could gobble her up. I stuffed the urge into the recesses of my mind. I had years of discipline to call on, but Ruby’s presence could obliterate it all.
She wasn’t wearing a yellow shirt like yesterday. Today’s shirt was a tucked-in, fitted red top. The short heels on her feet with a strap over the top of her foot were innocent but sexy, which fit her perfectly.
Lust punched me hard and low. I envisioned crowding her right back into that room and stripping each item of clothing off of her soft curves. “You look good.” I turned and opened the garage door, holding it for her.
“Oh, uh. You too.”
I’d put on my nicer jeans, the ones I wore when I ran to Billings on Wednesdays, and my shirt was a navy-blue polo, my only one that didn’t have a Copper Summit logo on it.
She passed me to get into the garage, her limoncello scent lingering in the air.
Goddamn. As if I needed to test my resistance more.
I followed her to the passenger door of my pickup and held it open, ignoring the pleasure of seeing her car in the garage parked next to mine.
I might’ve been able to ignore the way her skirt rode up her legs in the dimness of the garage, but when I backed out and sunlight flooded the cab of the pickup, her creamy thighs drew my eye. Everything about her did.
I had made a big mistake. I should’ve just agreed to be her date. I shouldn’t have kissed her.
Then what would I torment myself with at night when I was alone in bed?
I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. The drive to town was quiet. She was pressed to the window, murmuring about the gorgeous view.
My hold on the wheel loosened slightly. I admired my surroundings every day. I never took them for granted, but I’d also never had anyone to share them with.
The cabin was higher up in the foothills where the trees thickened and the pitch of the land increased. This wasn’t a sprawling valley like the places my sisters had. The portion of land I’d been gifted was rugged. Perfect for solitude, which was exactly what I’d been looking for when I’d built out here.
I turned onto the highway into town and the acid in my stomach started a low simmer.
“You’ve been to Curly’s before?” I asked more to distract myself from the date.
“A couple of times for lunch when I came here to meet Wynter. I can’t imagine how busy that place gets on a Saturday night.”
Shit. My knuckles were white again.
Ruby smoothed her skirt under her legs. Her excitement filled the cab and only cranked up my guilt. I did not want to do this.
By the time I parked in the lot, I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I’d purposely come early in the evening when there’d be fewer customers, but small groups walked into the double wooden doors. More cars flowed into the lot behind us.
I didn’t kill the engine, just glowered at the restaurant. In my periphery, I could see Ruby’s hand on the door handle.
Kill the engine and walk in with her. That was all I had to do.
That was it.
A warm hand landed on my arm. “Tenor? Is everything okay?”
I closed my eyes and exhaled. “I don’t—” She deserved some sort of explanation, but I couldn’t delve into my previous humiliation. But when I looked at her wide, worried blue eyes, I couldn’t allow her to think any of this had to do with her. “I don’t like attention on me.” The idea of getting stared at scratched under my skin.
Confusion glimmered in her eyes a moment before understanding sank in. “And people will see you on a date.”
“That’s what we want them to see.”
“True. But a date can mean many things. It doesn’t have to be diners staring at us while we eat. I get gawked at when I’m here with Wynter. A Saturday night? We’ll be their dinner show just eating the buns.”
The burn in my stomach cranked higher. “I owe you a supper.”
“Hmm.” She rested her elbow on the console and put her chin in her hand. “Where else would you go on a date in town?”
“I haven’t been out in a . . . long time . . . with someone.”
Her smile was encouraging. “You’ve been single for a minute?”
I shook my head. “I don’t date anymore.”
She was quiet a moment and I let her read into my statement however she wanted. “Just like you don’t have people over to your house?”
“Like you with your work and your books, I don’t like to be judged based on how I live my life.”
“And you have been before? Judged by how you live?”
“Yes.” How I lived, what I did in my free time, what I wore, and what my priorities were. The urge to share more with her was strong, but I tucked it away. Not today. Not ever. It was easier being alone than facing that.
She dug her phone out of her purse. “What would you have eaten if we’d ordered?”
“The beef tips are my go-to at Curly’s.”
She nodded and poked at her screen. Bewildered, I watched as she pulled up Curly’s menu and hit the contact info. When they answered, she rattled off my order and one for her—the chicken primavera. After she hung up, she shot me a satisfied smile. “Twenty minutes. Then we can find a place for a picnic.”
Acute relief cooled the sting of humiliation. I should be able to take her out to a goddamn restaurant. “This was supposed to be a date.”
“It is. I’m sure people will see us together just driving around. Should we take the food back to your place?”
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. I didn’t want her to feel like I was squirreling her away or, worse, embarrassed to be seen with her. “There’s a park by the river.”
“Perfect.” She crossed her ankles, drawing my eyes to her bare legs.
“You really do look good tonight.”
She tugged her skirt down. “Thank you.”
I put my fingers on the hem, her warm, bare flesh just under the fabric. I hitched it back to where it had been. “You never have to hide from me.” The last thing I wanted to do was make her self-conscious. “You shouldn’t have to hide from anyone.”
If I thought she’d melt under my reassurance, I was wrong.
She searched my face. “You don’t have to either.”
Startled, I drew my hand back. My defenses slammed into place. “I’m not hiding. I just like my privacy.”
Her expression said you sure about that? “Of course. Sorry.” She looked out the passenger window.
Dammit. None of this was her fault, and I missed her attention on me. “Ruby.” I rubbed the spot between my eyes. “You know why I helped you?”
She finally turned back to me and the pressure inside me eased. “Because you’re a nice guy?”
“I want to be a nice guy because I don’t ever want anyone to feel the way I did. The way others made me feel.” First, it was the jackass in school. Then, Katrina and her father. “You’ve seen my childhood pictures. You can imagine some things I might’ve experienced growing up.” And beyond, when I had thought I’d left those feelings of wanting to be anyone else but myself behind. “I’m sure you can connect it to why I don’t like being the center of attention.”
“That’s awful.”
I only lifted a shoulder. “It is what it is.”
She put her hand back on my arm. I’d spill my entire history if it meant she touched me more. “People can be horrible. Let’s make tonight about us.” Her eyes widened. “I don’t mean us, like us, but?—”
“I know.” I traced a finger over the back of her hand. “Fuck them. Let’s have a quiet picnic and enjoy the nice evening.” I lifted my touch from her and grabbed the door handle. “I’ll go get the food. Wait here.”