RUBY
Athena’s movers shuffle between our houses.
Sarah and Erik left this morning and I thought the team would be done by the time I got back from work but there’s still a lot to do.
I stand in my bedroom doorway, watching as two men transfer an armload of Athena’s white clothes into my closet—right where Claire’s things used to hang.
The symbolism isn’t lost on me. Out with the old, in with… whatever this is.
“Ma’am, where would you like these?” A young woman appears behind me, arms loaded with a collection of Athena’s white hats.
“You can put those on the top shelf,” I tell her, stepping aside to let her pass. “And any shoes can go on the rack by the window.” I stuck to a large suitcase myself. Why does she need so many clothes? It’s only for a week.
I watch as she arranges Athena’s hats. This doesn’t feel real—none of it does.
When I suggested the house swap, it had seemed so simple.
Athena needed a place to host her mother and sister, and I needed…
well, I don’t know what I needed. A change of scenery, perhaps.
A break from a house filled with memories.
Now…it’s all turning a little more complicated.
I didn’t think about the details. Pictures are either hidden or swapped, and some of Athena’s art that her mother gifted her is on display in my living room.
“Do you think it’s going to work?” I ask when Athena walks in, hands on her hips while she supervises.
“It has to,” she says, but the worry lines between her eyebrows betray her confidence. “My mother is impossible to fool under normal circumstances. But she hasn’t been to Vegas since before I moved. As long as I act like it’s my home and the personal items are in place, it should be fine.”
“And what about the club?” I ask, lowering my voice though the movers are occupied with their tasks.
Athena steps closer, her voice dropping to match mine. “There’s a team that handles everything—security, bartenders, cleaning. They know what to do.”
I nod, but apprehension still gnaws at my stomach. It’s not so much leaving my own home—I’m actually looking forward to that—but Athena’s house comes with responsibilities.
“Zeus,” I say, voicing my biggest concern. “What if he tries to kill me in my sleep?”
Athena laughs. “He’s a cat, Ruby, not a lion. Though I’ll admit he sometimes thinks he is.”
“He’s enormous.”
“He’s twenty pounds of muscle and attitude,” she agrees with a fond smile. “But he’s also a creature of routine. As long as you share your bed with him, he’ll tolerate you. Might even warm up to you eventually.”
“Sleeping with Zeus is not exactly what I had in mind when I pictured myself in your bed,” I blurt out, then immediately feel heat rushing to my cheeks. Did I really just say that out loud? Here, now, with movers bustling around us?
Athena’s eyes widen slightly, then darken with interest. “Oh? And what exactly did you have in mind, Ruby?” she asks, her voice dropping to that low, velvety tone that makes my skin tingle.
“I…that’s not…” I stammer, unable to find my footing. This inappropriate flirtation was definitely not part of our house-swap arrangement, yet I can’t seem to help myself around her.
Athena chuckles as she looks me up and down. “It’s not what, Counselor?”
I’m saved from responding by the doorbell. One of Athena’s assistants—a young woman named Belle who’s been coordinating the move—hurries to answer it.
“The Greek food delivery is here,” she calls out.
I glance at my watch. "I'm surprised they're delivering at this time of night."
"They don't normally. The company owner is getting a complimentary suite at The Olympus this weekend, and the delivery driver's getting a generous tip." Athena chuckles. "Amazing how flexible schedules become when there's something in it for everyone."
"Of course," I say, rolling my eyes good-naturedly. "I should have known. Nothing is ever straightforward with you, is it?"
"Where's the fun in straightforward?" She winks before calling back, "I'm coming!”
I trail behind, curious, and burst out laughing as I enter the kitchen. Two delivery men are unloading crates of food—olives, lemons, feta cheese, yogurt, honey, oregano and what looks like enough filo pastry to line the driveway.
“Is your mother planning to open a taverna?” I ask as Belle begins directing the unpacking.
Athena looks over the haul with satisfaction. “My mother would never believe I’m living somewhere without proper Greek staples.” She stops Belle when she’s about to store the dry ingredients. “Just leave everything on the counter. I’ll put it away myself so I can find it.”
Another assistant appears with jars of olives and Athena arranges them neatly in my cupboard.
“These are specially imported from Kalamata,” she explains, handling them like precious artifacts.
“At least we didn’t have to empty your cupboards first. Coffee, tea, sugar, peanut butter, and—” she pulls out a package, examining the date “—pasta that expired eight months ago.” She turns to me with a mix of amusement and concern.
“It’s sad, really. Don’t you ever cook for yourself? ”
“No.” I shrug. “I order in. Or I eat at the office.” The truth is, I haven’t eaten a home-cooked meal since Claire died.
She was the one who loved spending evenings in the kitchen, experimenting with recipes while I sat at the counter with case files, stealing bites between briefs.
I turn to Athena. “Don’t tell me you cook at home, though. I’d find that hard to believe.”
“Touché, I don’t. But my housekeeper cooks. She alternates between six Greek recipes I gave her. She’s pretty good.” Athena’s face is suddenly serious. “I can’t thank you enough, Ruby. I owe you. Big time. Like, big-big time.”
“You’ve been there for me. I’m glad I can do something in return.” I shoot her a flirtatious grin. “But if you feel like you owe me, I can think of a way or two you can thank me.”
Athena licks her lips and steps closer. She reaches past me for an olive jar, her body pressing against mine for one deliberate moment. I feel her exhale against my neck. When she pulls back, her eyes hold mine with such raw intention that I have to grip the counter to steady myself.
"When all this family chaos is over," she murmurs, "I have some new toys at the club that are just begging for a test run. And I think you'd make the perfect volunteer."
Before I can respond to that, a man appears with a clipboard. “Ms. Stavros, we need you to sign for the wine delivery.”
Athena sighs, the spell broken. “Duty calls. I’ll be right back.”
As she follows him, I lean against the kitchen counter and blow out my cheeks. This constant state of arousal can’t be healthy. Every time she flirts with me, every lingering look sends my body into overdrive.
Tomorrow, I’ll be living in Athena’s house while her family thinks my home is hers. It’s madness, but I don’t mind. I’m looking forward to stepping out of my normal life for a while and getting a break from this house full of memories. And sleeping in her bed.