Chapter 10—Ruby
Hearing I’m just a problem is a hard pill to swallow. Sure, I know I can be. I know this isn’t a job Kooper wanted. But actually hearing him say it when we were at the hospital a few weeks back? It sucked. Still sucks. Which is probably why I can’t get his words out of my head.
Well, that and Dad’s fussing. I can fight my own battles.
I have, and I won them. Some things don’t need to be spoken about.
But I get a damn bump on the head, and I seem to have vomit of the mouth and just tell him everything.
Well, not everything. Just one thing that Dad is still freaking out about.
I’m not sure if he’s mad about me never telling him or that Mom and I handled it without him.
If he had his way, the guy would be six feet under.
And I’m sure he’s looking. Dad’s like a dog with a bone.
Even if the bone is used up and across state lines and has nothing to do with the dog anymore, he wants it.
He wants to ruin and destroy it. Even though I already did.
I think that’s what pisses me off most. He can’t just let it go. He has to put his final stamp on it.
Poor little Ruby just can’t do shit without her dad coming in to finalize it.
I throw my pen across the room and growl to myself. I’m so wrapped up in my head that I can’t study properly. I need a break. Or ten.
I would go for a run, but it’s pouring out. And as much as I don’t mind the rain, wet socks are the worst. It’s like a type of torture. I can handle wet shoes, but there’s just something about wet cloth on my feet that irks me.
Thankfully, I’m back home for the weekend, and I know a perfect gym that has an indoor track. I can’t handle a stationary system of any kind right now. I need to go fast and slow and just pound out everything that feels like a ball in my chest.
I change quickly, grab my keys, and I’m out the door before I think beyond the need for freedom that a run can give me.
The gym is packed. Typical. Misfits, appropriately named for the group of friends Troublemaker and Kitten belong to, is one of the best gyms in the state.
They have everything and more. Even a spa section, which might be a good idea for after the run. A little treat for myself.
With an extra pep in my step for the possible massage I’ll be getting later, I speed-walk to the doors. I don’t want to fall on my ass from the rain. Been there, done that. Like I said before—wet socks are a no-go.
“Well, if it isn’t the queen bitch herself.”
I turn at Jordan’s words and smile wide, going over and giving him the biggest hug I can.
He wasn’t my friend before Kitten and Troublemaker found their guys in the club, but I claim him as my own now.
And his husband, Meekail, but that’s just because he’s superhot with the whole Shemar Moore doppelg?nger thing going for him.
“How’s business?” I ask as I pull back and move to the desk to sign in.
“Same,” Jordan says with an easy smile. “Better, actually. Especially with the eye candy we’ve got going on around here.
” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I just roll my eyes.
The guy is a complete nut for his man, but he does like to tease, and especially me.
He says he never sees me with a man and therefore needs to find one for me.
I’ve tried to tell him I’ve got a few back at college, but to him, if he doesn’t lay eyes on a man, then I’m single.
I guess he’s right. If I were serious about anyone I was dating, I’d bring them around the club.
I just haven’t found the right guy yet. You know, one who won’t take off running the second dear old dad threatens him within an inch of his life if he makes his baby girl cry.
Well, Dad or any of the twenty-odd brothers who would gladly tell him too.
“Well, keep them out of my way.”
“Why? You afraid one might snag your attention?”
“Nope.” I grab a towel and the locker key I checked out. “Just worried that they won’t keep their eyes off me, and then you’ll be liable for them hurting themselves when they trip over their tongues and land on a barbell.”
He chuckles as I head to the lockers, stashing my stuff before going upstairs. The track they have goes around the entire upper floor. It’s not exactly the scenic route I wanted, but I can watch those working out on my level and those below if I get bored enough.
I give myself a good five-minute stretch, and then I’m off at a steady pace. Not many use the indoor track, opting for stationary systems instead. Within seven minutes, I’m bored, but my head’s still all over the place. I need to run a few laps to get me out of whatever this is.
Which seems to be happening more lately. I’m not sure what’s going on with me. I can’t be having a midlife crisis; I’m too young for that. I still like the career path I’m on, so it’s not that. I love my family, no matter how chaotic it is.
Maybe you just need a man.
Of fucking course Jordan’s voice pops into my head. Typical.
And talk about timing issues. Especially when I glance down and see a certain pair of eyes watching me from below.
Eyes that pull me in, and for a second, I feel like I’m floating.
Till I hit the ground and realize I freaking fell over my damn feet.
I look over the side of the glass partition and see that he’s gone.
Which is exactly what I wanted. No way was I going to live it down if Kooper found out I fell head over heels, literally.
It’s something Kitten would do, and has done, for her man, Flint.
Hell, any of the old ladies fall into that category.
But not me. I’m too coordinated for that shit.
“You good, Ruby?”
My eyes bug out of my head at his voice behind me. I shake myself a bit before I lean back on my hands and look at him with my head thrown back so he’s upside down in my view.
“Just peachy. Why do you ask?”
He looks at me, then the ground, then goes far enough to gesture that I’m sprawled out on the track like a freaking exercising noob.
“Just getting in a few extra warm-up stretches.”
“But you already did your normal prep work.”
Now it’s my turn to give him a look that has him looking away as I stand up.
Just how long was he watching me? And did he run up here to check on me? Is Kooper being… sweet?
“Stalker much?”
“It’s what I get paid for.”
“And you running up here to see if I was okay after falling? That in the job description too?” I take a step forward and bat my eyelashes at him.
He rolls his head back and around till his eyes land on my hand that I put on his arm. I smirk as I give his bicep a small squeeze. Not sure if it’s a reaction or he did it on purpose, but it flexes, and I squeeze it again just for fun.
“You seem to have a habit of falling down when I’m around. Not sure your daddy wants you to hurt yourself every five seconds. It only increases his insurance bill. And if you’re going to fall for a guy, make it one who’s interested in you and not paid to watch. Unless you’re on a stage, that is.”
I drop my hand and turn around. “Joke’s on you. I’m clumsy, not interested.”
“Says the woman who can run up six flights of stairs in hooker heels.”
I shake my head and get back to my lap. I get ten steps in and feel a shadow.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Some call this running.”
“You can’t do it somewhere else?”
“All the treadmills are taken, and I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s raining outside.”
“Whatever. Don’t let me keep you.” I move to the outside lane and slow my pace, hoping he passes. But the asshole doesn’t.
“Now what are you doing?”
“I find it easier to keep you from falling and hurting yourself if I’m close enough to catch you.”
“Push me down is more like it,” I grumble.
He shrugs. “Only time will tell.”
And then the jerk shuts up and just runs. Right. Beside. Me. The entire time. I go fast; he keeps pace. I slow; again, he’s right there. I try to push myself into a solid ten-mile run, and the guy doesn’t even get sweaty. It’s a freaking joke.
I don’t take the time to stretch after my run, just limp down the stairs, get my stuff from the lockers, and then huff and puff to the front desk to drop off the locker key.
“Damn, sweets, you look horrible.” Jordan’s lip rises as if he smells something foul. And a quick sniff of my shirt lets me know I’m the issue. “Well”—he grins—“no more than usual.”
“Skank.” I swallow and feel sandpaper at the back of my throat. “Got any water?”
“Yup.” He grabs a bottle from below the desk and sets it on the counter. I go to reach for it, but he pulls it back. “Three bucks.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugs. “Hubby says I’ve got to stop giving the cow away for free.”
“It’s milk that you give for free. And why are you charging? You never charged before.”
He winces. “Technically, we always charge for bottled water. Hence the big sign behind me that says water bottles are sold here. I just never charged you before. But Meekail is all in a snit about my latest purchases. He won’t let me buy anything else from them till I pay off the latest credit card bill.
And since I love more than you, you get charged. Three bucks, buttercup. Pay up.”
And in typical fashion, I ran out of the apartment with just my driver’s license and my keys. That’s it. No wallet, no cash. I don’t even keep spare change in my car.
“Forget it,” I grumble as I turn and head for the door.
I can survive the fifteen-minute drive home.
Will I feel like death in the Sahara when I get there?
Sure. But what else am I going to do? Spend thirty minutes at the water fountain till I quench my thirst?
Those things go so slow, and I feel like a damn dog lapping up the water.