2. Caden
2
CADEN
Ruby McCray is going to be the death of me.
At the gym’s front desk, I keep my head down, focused on the laptop screen in front of me, pretending I don’t notice her kicking off dirt-clod shoes before walking barefoot to the back room to turn on the hose. Never in my thirty-two years has a woman possessed the ability to turn me on with bright pink toenails.
Or maybe it’s those damn Daisy Duke shorts that get my blood running a few degrees too warm. She might be short—five three or four if I had to guess—but damn that woman has legs for days.
If I’d known Ruby McCray was part of the deal, I never would’ve agreed to open this gym with her brother.
Since the day I met her, she’s all I want.
Gram lets out a gentle whine as he watches Ruby ignore him and slip into the back without so much as a wave. I give him a head scratch as apology. I know she’s not snubbing the pup—just me.
It’s better this way.
It’s better that she ices me out just as much as I ice her out. Chemistry crackles between us whenever we stand too close. There’s an unexplainable pull that’s existed between us since the first day I met her. I’ve caught Ruby raking her gaze over me more than a few times. This isn’t one sided.
But it can’t happen.
I owe my life to Marshall. The least I can do is keep my fucking hands to myself when it comes to his little sister.
“Caden?”
The sound of my name on her lips instantly sends blood rushing south. I force myself to think about anything and everything else—the new workout class I’m planning, the Braves game later tonight, Mom’s terrible cooking—before there’s an embarrassing incident below the waistband. “Yeah?” I call back to her, slowly turning in my swivel chair.
“Can you help me with the spigot?” Her grimace matches her tone, promising she wouldn’t ask me if she had another choice. But Marshall’s off until later this evening. So me it is. “It’s stuck.”
Because I don’t have a good reason to say no, I stand up. “Coming.”
Gram looks up at me as I slip past him, leaving him on his rope leash at the front desk. His pitiful expression is comical enough to make me chuckle. To make me consider, for the dozenth time, of adopting my own dog. But until I have a house with a fenced-in yard, that desire will have to wait a little longer.
“Hold down the fort, boy,” I tell him.
I follow Ruby through a tight, employees-only hall to the back. It takes every ounce of willpower and inner strength not to stare at her ass in those tight denim shorts. But there’s nothing I can do about her sweet, floral scent—the landscaper would smell like a bouquet of wildflowers—that assaults me in the narrow, confined space.
Mom once tried to make lasagna on your birthday and it tasted like watery tomato soup. Remember how you ate it anyway?
“I’ve tried everything I can think of,” Ruby says, pointing at the spigot. Giving me a task I can focus on instead of the dirt smudge across her prominent chest. “But it won’t budge.”
“I got it.”
When I step closer to the spigot, Ruby jumps away like I’ve startled her. As much as I know it’s better this way, I fucking hate it. “I don’t bite,” I say, lifting one corner of my mouth in amusement.
“Unless you ask?” she supplies, biting her lip a moment later as if she wishes she could take it back.
I can’t stop a tiny smirk from forming; a silent question forming in the upward quirk of my brow. How do you know I don’t want to? Very much.
Her bottom lip, noticeably plumper and more kissable, slides out from under her teeth as realization dances in her eyes. Oh. Really?
We share a gaze that lingers several seconds longer than it should. I could get lost in those emerald eyes and never find my way back. I want to get lost in them. To get lost in her as we roll and tangle in my sheets.
“I’m not asking,” she says, a wicked gleam in her eyes that begs to differ.
“Yet?”
Gram woofs softly from the front counter and we both snap back to reality. To where we are standing.
Her eyes widen, and she quickly looks away as a blush pinkens her cheeks, attention returning to the spigot.
Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that out loud. But dammit, I don’t seem to know common sense around this woman. This is why I need to keep my distance. Because a couple of minutes in her orbit, and I’m already forgetting every reason we shouldn’t do this. Every reason I shouldn’t cage her against the wall and devour that pretty mouth.
I clear my throat and force myself to refocus. “Let me try,” I say, nodding at the spigot.
The fucker is tight. Tight enough that I have to work for it, and that’s enough to get my head back on straight. After engaging every damn muscle it takes and muttering a string of curses that would make a sailor blush, I finally get it to turn on.
Water rushes through the attached hose.
“Oh good, you got it!”
“Let me know when you want it turned off. I can get it.”
“Thanks, Caden.”
My determination to avoid looking at her caves when she says my name again. Never in my life has a woman had to do so damn little to turn me on. I avoid those emerald orbs, but I give myself permission I don’t deserve to rake my gaze over those bare legs. Before I can get to those cute toes, my gaze snags on a bright red substance running the length of her calf.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Oh shit, I am,” Ruby groans, twisting her leg to look at the minor injury running along her calf. “Hazard of the job.”
“You could try wearing pants,” I suggest, my tone stern.
She flashes me an easy smile, her eyes twinkling. “Nah. I’ll be fine. It’s just a little scratch.”
“You should clean that up before you head back out to the dump.”
“It’s not a dump,” she says, her tone exasperated. As though she’s had to defend that very sentiment more than once since she started working on it. “At least it won’t be in a few days. Or weeks.”
“Weeks?”
“Relax,” she says, chuckling. Though the laugh doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I hate that I’ve somehow contributed to some crushing of her vision, but I don’t know how to make it any better without just making it worse. “I refuse to let that little alcove best me for weeks. It’ll be a sparkling gem when I’m finished with it.”
Her dreamy and determined tone is sexy as hell. If I had any sense, I’d get some distance between us stat.
“Of course, it might take weeks if you don’t let me out of this creepy back room,” she teases, staring at my chest. She reaches out a hand, as though she means to push me, but seems to think better of it before she makes contact and withdraws.
It’s for the best. I almost captured her hand and held it over my heart, just so she could feel it thunder. Just so she knew the truth. A growl itches at the back of my throat. I need to calm the fuck down. Flip the switch.
And Mom’s watery lasagna just isn’t doing the trick.
I glance down, searching for anything to distract me – because clearly, just stepping out of her fucking way isn’t an option. My attention snags on the rivulet of blood that’s already made it to her ankle. She’s going to track blood all over the gym.
“You’re not going anywhere until that scratch is cleaned up and disinfected.”
Her gaze softens, a smile gracing her entirely too kissable her lips. It’s not the reaction I expected from my firm, slightly asshole tone. Shit.
“Well, well. Caden Michaels, you do have a soft side. Who would’ve thought me getting a little scratch would bring out your inner protective teddy bear?”
There are so many things I could say in this moment that would likely result in Ruby being pushed up against the wall with my tongue down her throat and hand sliding over her hip. But, as much as I crave her—as much as I probably always will—I can’t give in.
I won’t give in.
It’s why I stare her dead in the eyes, my expression stone cold. “Don’t flatter yourself, Ruby. You brother would kill me if you got tetanus.”