Burn for You (The Ruby Cove #2)

Chapter One

chapter one

MAY

A cool breeze whispers across my bare shoulders as I lean closer to the mirror in my bedroom, trying to even out my winged eyeliner.

The breeze is a constant here in Ruby Cove, always floating off the surface of the turquoise water that surrounds the town. Sometimes it’s enough to toss your hair across your face, but today it’s light, like a faint caress drifting in through my open window.

Eyeliner is one of those things where I either get it right the first time, or I spend the better part of an hour with a Q-Tip and makeup remover.

Tonight was one of those nights where I got it the first time, and it boosts my confidence through the roof. I’ll happily take that as a sign that it’s going to be a good night.

“I’m Fakin’” by Sabrina Carpenter is blasting from my laptop where it’s propped up on my bed. I need good music, specifically girl-boss shit, when I get ready, and Sabrina Carpenter is the queen of girl boss shit.

I hop into the little black dress I laid out earlier, nearly tripping over my makeup bag in the process. The dress is a little small, but it gives the desired effect. I fluff my short hair in the mirror and smile to myself. Ever since I cut my hair off last year, I feel so much lighter. I know it’s entirely in my head, but after the shitshow that was my senior year of college, I decided to change it up, and I feel more like myself than I ever have.

I rifle through my makeup bag looking for my favorite lipstick that’s perfect for the occasion—Ruby Woo by M.A.C. It's the perfect red. If only I could find it.

I walk out towards the kitchen, the music fading as I turn the corner into the little open living space of Rosemary Cottage.

The bright light from the setting sun across the water beams into the room through the large windows that sit above the sink in the kitchen, giving me a perfect outlook to the bay that Ruby Cove sits on.

This cottage is my dream. It sits just far enough out of town that I can sleep peacefully at night, but not so far that I am still within walking distance from Main Street. With the big trees reaching high above the thatched roof, it feels like I’m tucked away in my own little world.

In the month that I’ve been living here, I’ve managed to make the place my own. The cottage came mostly furnished, but I’ve added my own touches.

My books are scattered throughout every room. Most of them sit on the wooden shelves that line the walls of the living room, but the ones that couldn’t fit make up various stacks around the house.

I’ve loved to read since I was a kid, always finding peace in the quiet corners of any place, blocking out the noise of the world around me as I disappeared into another reality for a while. Now it’s more smutty romances over magic treehouses, but you get the idea.

A locally made rug covers most of the wooden floors in the small living room, and I hung some metal hooks on the wall in the kitchen to hold the collection of mugs I’ve accumulated since being in Ruby Cove over the last four months. I can never go to one of the local markets without getting another mug.

I drink a lot of hot chocolate .

Therefore I need a lot of mugs.

I’ve made the place feel like mine. I love it so much that I’ve barely left in the last two weeks. It’s got that old and cozy kind of feel about it, and it’s small enough that it takes me less than an hour to clean the whole place.

When Marina first offered it up to me, it took me less than five minutes to decide that I wanted in. After my best friend Isla moved into the penthouse of Hotel Dolce with her boyfriend Caio, the hotel room we shared there felt a bit temporary for me once we decided to make Ruby Cove our home.

Caio’s cousin Marina made quick work of making Isla and I feel at home when we first showed up in town, so when she heard I was looking for a new place, she offered up Rosemary Cottage in a heartbeat. She’ll do anything for anyone, but she doesn’t hesitate to tell you how it is. She’s my kind of girl, and easily became someone I can rely on. She’s also my boss. So she’s given me a job and a place to stay in the last four months… I should really figure out how to pay her back.

But right now, my focus is on getting out of this little cottage and under my date for tonight.

Hence the girl-boss music and the need for Ruby Woo.

I spy my handbag discarded on the couch where I threw it last night after ordering pizza. That’s been my go-to at the moment—again, I haven’t left the house much.

I open the pocket, shuffling my shit around until I find the little black bullet I was looking for.

I swipe the color over my lips and toss the lipstick back in the bag before swinging it over my shoulder. I grab my keys off the hook at the front door and set out for what will hopefully be an orgasmic night.

The warm breeze tosses my hair behind me as I make my way out the front gate and down the windy path that leads to and from the cottage.

It’s like something out of a fairytale, and sometimes I still can’t believe I just moved here .

Just like that.

Nothing was waiting for me back in New York, anyway. My mom and stepdad are off traveling. God knows where. They move around constantly, and I can barely keep up with where they are. If it wasn’t for my mom’s social media posts, I probably wouldn’t even know that they’re still alive. I think they’re in Canada right now. Her latest post of a moose suggests as much. Also, who knew moose were that big?

And it’s not like I’ve got a guy waiting for me. I haven’t in a long time. I’ve made sure of that, not wanting to put myself in any serious situations with a guy again. Not for a while, anyway. Not after last time.

My heels clop against the cobblestone path that leads into town. I decided to walk tonight, but my feet are already screaming at me for my poor decision making.

With a sigh, I lean over to unclasp the buckle on my heels and slip them off my feet to continue my walk barefoot.

Much better. Not so classy, but far more practical.

As I walk through Ruby Cove, I can’t help but be glad that this is where I ended up. The sun is just about to slip below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the bay that makes it look like heaven.

When Isla and I first arrived in town, courtesy of her boyfriend Caio, I never thought this was how our girls’ trip would turn out. But then she fell in love, and going home seemed a lot duller than staying in the peaceful Italian coastal town.

Not that I had a place to call home. As a kid, I moved around a lot, following my mom whenever she ran from an ex-boyfriend, meaning that I never truly felt like I belonged anywhere . Until we came here. This tiny little town somehow drew me in, and it’s yet to let me go.

Now that Isla is working at an art studio in town full time, I’ve picked up her extra shifts at Marina’s. I’ve got a stable job at the local bar, a perfect little cottage all to myself, and a beautiful place I get to call home. I don’t know how anything could kill the buzz I feel right now.

And then I remember where I’m headed.

When my date texted, asking to meet up at Olive&Vine, I literally texted back with:

Can we go anywhere but there?

But he had heard it was the best place in town, and none of my attempts to convince him that it was average at best worked. So here I am, walking up the curved path towards Rafael Deo’s restaurant.

I hope I haven’t pissed off karma lately. I’m really hoping the universe did me a favor and Rafael isn’t here tonight. I really can’t be bothered having my date ruined by his presence.

Rafael and I met about four months ago when I first arrived in town. That interaction ended in instant dislike, from both sides.

I mean, what kind of sane person loses their mind over a stranger eating their food “wrong?” How can you even eat food wrong? It was just a meatball, and I’d never admit it to him, but it was a bloody good meatball. But again, just a meatball. No big deal, right?

Wrong.

Ever since that day, it’s been back and forth between the two of us. The fact that my best friend fell in love with his best friend is insanely inconvenient for our situation.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Caio, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Isla happier than she is when she’s with him. Apparently he just lacks good judgment when it comes to his best friend.

It looks like my luck has run out because as soon as I open the door, the first set of eyes I connect with are his. Those dark brown eyes that are always paired with a scowl when they’re looking at me. He runs a hand over his rough stubble and looks back down at whatever he’s doing before I can scowl back.

“May?” I feel a hand slide across my lower back. “Hi, it’s Dean.”

I suddenly remember why I said yes to a date with Dean when he approached me at the bar on the weekend.

Dean is fucking hot.

Like holy-mother-of-god sexy.

Like hand crafted.

Like I can feel my pussy tingling just at the sight of him.

“Dean, nice to see you again.” I run a hand up his toned arm. Hand crafted, alright.

“I already secured our table,” he replies, gently urging me forward with that hand on my back.

He steers me through the tables towards the back of the restaurant, closer to where I can feel Rafael’s prying eyes watching our every move, but I don’t even have it in me to look his way.

Dean walks around the table to pull out my chair. I thank him as I sit down. Hot as hell and a gentleman? Maybe I didn’t piss off karma as much as I thought.

“Have you been here before?” he asks, starting off the conversation.

“Only once or twice.”

I refrain from explaining that the reason I never come here is because the owner makes me want to literally set my hair on fire, and I would not look good bald.

I can feel his attention on me like a pesky shadow. I have to fight my instincts not to flick my eyes in his direction.

Olive&Vine has a nice atmosphere about it. Subtle floral wallpaper meets wooden siding halfway down the walls, and antique chandeliers are dotted around the large dining room. Not quite the aesthetic I would pick for the town's biggest grump, but it’s pretty, nonetheless .

“Can I start you off with some wine?” A server appears at the side of our table.

“Would you like a glass?” Dean asks.

“Better go with the bottle,” I say.

He proceeds to order his choice of wine for us, but I can almost feel how tense the server is at our side, like someone is watching his every move.

Because someone is.

I can see Rafael out of the corner of my eye working in the kitchen, but his attention is fixed on our table. I haven’t looked at him, but I can feel it. I can always feel his presence, his gaze on me. Always observing and judging. I just square my shoulders and pretend like it’s not taking all of my control not to match his gaze. To give him a look that says, what the fuck are you looking at? Because then he’d win.

I know he’s waiting for it—waiting for me to look over there just so he can frown at me like always. I don’t think I’ve seen his smile more than five times, and I’ve known the guy for over four months. What makes someone so grumpy all the time? It’s miserable.

I glue my attention back to the man in front of me and his captivating eyes that are currently raking down my body.

Hair, eyes, tits, before they come back to my eyes. “Did I tell you the other night that you’re beautiful?”

He gives me one of those smirks, the one that guys do when they’re thinking about getting you alone, and I can’t help but smirk back. I shrug. “You did, but it doesn’t hurt to hear it again.”