Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RUBY
I have officially done Susie’s hair every single day now for a week.
I’d say I’m swiftly approaching advanced status. I have no idea why Declan thinks it’s so hard.
I hate to admit it, but having Declan here this past week has been helpful. Not only has he watched Max so I could get some work done, but he has different ideas on play than I do, and there has been no shortage of fun for the kids.
The only downside has been that Declan is now in my space every day of the week, and it has made it very, very hard to avoid him after what happened on the couch the other night.
God, it was so good.
But it was wrong for so many reasons. For starters, it was impulsive, and it goes against every thought I’d told myself. As if I’m levelheaded when I’m alone, but the minute we are close to touching, my brain suddenly glitches and all the warning signals shut off.
Either way, it can’t happen again. I have no doubt that he agrees and that is why he hasn’t mentioned it either.
I can’t touch him.
Not again.
Everything about this situation is complicated.
I can’t remember the last time I was that turned on by anyone, and he barely touched me. He didn’t even kiss me. We only rubbed against each other and didn’t even get to finish. Which is exactly why it can’t happen again.
It.
Won’t.
I need to focus on work and how, even though I can make double loan payments for a few months, I still need to keep up my clientele if I want to continue doing so after they move out. What I don’t need to focus on is what the man living in my basement looks like naked.
Today was a busy one keeping the kids entertained, and even though there were moments I could check my emails and make quick replies, I still have a lot of work to do tonight.
With Max finally settled in with a movie, I grab my laptop and sit on the couch with the mouse resting on the sofa arm.
It’s the best makeshift mouse pad a girl could ask for.
I open my email first and check a few things to make sure I’m on schedule.
Then I open my Notes app to see what’s next for the day.
As soon as I double-click on the file for the graphics I need to work on, my entire computer screen goes black.
No. No, no, no.
This can’t be happening. I just got a new computer last year. I should still have a few more years before it does this to me.
I groan and press a couple of keys, hoping that it’s going to wake up my computer, bringing it back to life.
I tap the enter key again and again, then harder. Please just blink. Anything. A cursor or a note to tell me that I need to fix this. I’ll take anything at this point.
Ten return taps later and still nothing is happening.
This is just my luck. First, my entire life is thrown off its routine, but the one thing I do have control over is work and my computer crashes. Life couldn’t get any worse.
I let out the loudest groan of all time.
“Everything all right?”
Declan is at the top of the stairs. White shirt, backward black hat, and a pair of gray sweatpants.
My eyes drift down to see if the rumors are true about what they say. Yep, right there in front of me is an outline of the very thing I should not be thinking about.
I take a deep breath.
I stand corrected. Things can get worse.
“Everything is fine, thank you very much.”
“Really? Because the noise that came out of you just gave me the complete opposite vibe.”
“I didn’t make any kind of noise, and noises don’t give vibes.”
Even with my back to him, I sense him walking toward me. On the one hand, he’s the perfect person to have near when something like this happens, but on the other hand, that means accepting his help would result in us being up here together. Alone.
Not a good plan for me.
“It would help if you turned your computer on.”
“Ever the smart one, aren’t you?”
Yes, be snappy. Make him mad. Then maybe you won’t be so attracted to him.
Because the couch that I’m sitting on is facing the living room front window, I can see his reflection. He leans forward, resting both hands on the back of the couch, one on either side of my shoulders, and then he slowly leans forward. “Looks to me like someone’s having computer trouble.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“It sort of looks like you do.”
“Just because it looks like I need it doesn’t mean I want it.”
For heaven’s sake. Listen to me arguing just to argue so that we aren’t the only two in a room. I clearly need his help.
“Is there a reason you came upstairs?”
Whatever he came up here for, I need him to just move along and grab it and return to the basement so that I can be depressed and sex-deprived in private. Then I can make a plan to fix my computer.
“The kids want popcorn.”
I stand quickly and head into the kitchen. Declan is right behind me, watching my every move. I’m sure that by now he knows where the popcorn is in this house. Max is addicted to it; he has it at least twice a week when he’s watching a movie before bed.
It’s a habit I’ll break on another day.
I grab one of the bags from the cabinet and jam it into Declan’s chest.
“Here.”
He lets out the lightest grunt.
I head back to the living room.
“Why don’t you just let me make this popcorn, take it to the kids, and then I can come back up here and help you?”
“Because I told you that I don’t want your help.”
And we do not need to be alone.
“Ruby, it’s obvious your computer isn’t working. I can fix it.”
I ignore him and attempt to turn my laptop on once more.
Nothing happens.
The popcorn starts to pop in the microwave as I weigh my options.
One, ask around to Lovers to find out who the tech guy everyone calls for help.
Get on his schedule, cross my fingers that he knows how to fix whatever this is within days, and then pay him.
Two, wait until this weekend and drive to one of the two computer stores in Wind Valley.
It’ll cost more, and I should definitely call ahead to be sure they can get me in.
Three, ask the man in my kitchen to help me, and possibly have this fixed tonight so that I can get some work done.
And maybe sit far enough away from him while he works.
I can totally do that.
The microwave beeps and I hear Declan pour the snack into two bowls.
I hug my computer to my chest and stare at him.
He’s at the top of the stairs when he sees me.
“Can you please help me?”
He smirks as he starts the descent to the basement. “I’ll be right back.”
I grab a water and then jog up the stairs for my computer bag.
I don’t see him needing the charger for anything, but I’ll have it ready.
When I get back to the living room, Declan is just hitting the top step.
He’s got two new things with him: a bag with his company logo on it, and he’s also wearing my new weakness, his black rimmed glasses.
Damnit. I’m a mess.
“What were you doing when it turned off?”
“Working.”
He grabs my computer from the coffee table and moves to the kitchen table. I join him. Two chairs down.
“I need you to be more specific.”
“I was opening a file and I’m not a professional or anything, but normally, that mundane action shouldn't cause a computer to shut down.”
“I agree.”
He gets to work, somehow pulling up a screen that reminds me of a really old video game and typing in code.
“Are you going to watch me the entire time?”
I sigh and lean back.
“I’m just worried that I won’t get my files back.”
“Do you back them up?”
“I think just to the cloud or whatever comes with Apple.”
“We have other ways to access them if your computer is done for good.”
His fingers fly over the keyboard, and he keeps working.
Silence falls over us, so I send a text to the girls in the group. Maybe if I talk this out, I can stop internally obsessing and move on. I better go ahead and skip the small talk.
Ruby:
So, last week I pretty much gave Declan a lap dance.
Grace:
I LOVE how you never beat around the bush with anything.
Shay:
What!
Sadie:
O M G.
Brooke:
I thought you didn’t like him.
Ruby:
I don’t … or didn’t. I don’t know. Things lately have been quiet, and he’s … not that bad.
Quinn:
Group girls’ chats are my favorite.
Ruby:
The point is, I don’t know how to act now.
Brooke:
What do you mean? Have you not talked about it? Is he a good kisser?
Ruby:
We never even kissed! I just dry humped him until his daughter interrupted and ran to my room.
Sadie:
What does this mean?
Ruby:
Nothing. I slipped up. I’m attracted to him, yes, but that doesn’t mean anything needs to happen.
Shay:
Sometimes it does, though.
I sigh and set my phone down. This chat isn’t as effective as I needed it to be. Then my phone vibrates, and I pick it up again.
Grace:
If you don’t know what it means, just don’t stress. Do nothing.
I let out a light laugh. As if it were that easy. Declan’s gaze flickers to mine for a split moment. I go back to texting so that I don’t stare at him.
Ruby:
Did you know he wears glasses at night?
Grace:
I did not.
Ruby:
Thick black-rimmed ones.
Quinn:
And you’re telling us the details because?
Ruby:
I think I have a thing for men in glasses.
Grace:
A guy thing or a Declan thing?
I stare at my phone, debating whether I should tell them how I really feel about the couch night. I bite my lip as I weigh my options. But what the heck. I’ll just go for it.
“Ruby,” Declan says, startling me and pulling me from my phone.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to text you a code that you can enter on this screen.” He turns my computer so I can see it. “Enter it now and then keep the code for if this happens again.”
As soon as my phone pings, I open the text and type in the code.
He turns the computer toward himself again and gets back to work.
Ruby:
Our dry humping was short-lived, but I want to do it again.
And again. With fewer clothes. Maybe my feelings come from the fact that he’s overly good-looking.
I mean, his chest is like a rock, and I hate that I want to touch it.
I hate that I told him he had to start wearing shirts.
Add in his stupid cute smirk and the fact that he’s smart and great with Max and just …
it’s too much. It’s easier to not like him.
I need to be focused on myself and Max. If I did like him, instead of fixing my computer, I’d be climbing him like a pole and breaking my dry spell.
I press send, slightly regretting that I divulged too much while venting my frustration, but they all suspected it already. It made sense to admit it. The more information they have, the better they can help me.
I let out a groan, hating how worked up I’m getting over something that will never happen.
Declan’s phone pings, and I freeze.
Some might call it intuition, but I call it fear.
Fear that I just did something very, very wrong.
I grab my phone and set it in my lap, slowly turning it over to check my text messages.
Right there at the top is Declan's text thread, and right there when I open said thread is my admission to the girls.
No.
My stomach drops. My heart thuds.
No.
No.
I look up quickly. Declan hasn’t touched his phone yet because he’s focused on my laptop.
Okay, okay, I can work with this.
I just need a plan to steal his phone and crack the code with my super awesome tech girl skills and then delete my text. All in mere seconds.
Simple.
I could die right now.
Okay, no time to panic.
I stand.
He’s still focused on the laptop.
Slowly, I walk around the back of his chair to the other side of the table. He’s still focused.
He must really like computers.
I keep walking, slowly so as not to draw attention.
I casually reach out and take his phone.
Again, slowly, so nothing seems out of the—
“Why are you trying to sneak my phone?”
“Huh?” I turn and press my lips together. “Hmm.”
“My phone.” Declan leans back and crosses his arms as he studies me. “Why do you need it?”
“Oh, is this your phone?” I ask innocently. “I thought it was mine. My bad.”
I turn to walk off, but he goes on.
“Since we have established that it’s my phone, you can leave it here on the table.”
Damn it.
Why would I need it?
Why?
Why, Ruby!
“I thought I'd just bring it over here and charge it for you.”
I keep walking.
“Ruby, stop.”
His voice is firm, in the tone he saves just for me, and I have to take a breath.
It was hot.
“Turn to face me.”
That one, too.
“Why do you need my phone?”
“I …”
“The truth.”
I hold my chin high.
“I … accidentally sent a text for the girls to you and I need to delete it.”
His left brow lifts as he smirks.
“What does it say?”
I glare at him. “If I told you that, that would defeat the purpose of deleting it, wouldn’t it?”
He shrugs. “I guess.”
“So, can I have your passcode to delete it?”
“The passcode to my phone seems pretty intimate, don’t you think?”
I laugh.
“If you think that’s intimate, then you should read—never mind. Nope. I don’t think that it is.”
His gaze meets mine and turns dark.
His chest rises, and the urge to ask him what he's thinking is heavy, but I don't.
The girls, as usual, perk up, and I take a deep breath.
“Please, Declan.”
He swallows and then nods.
“9292.”
Relief floods me as I enter the code and all the apps on his phone appear. I tap on the text message icon, find our thread. He’s watching me, but as soon as our eyes meet, he looks away and focuses on my computer again.
Just like that. He trusts me to only delete this message.
No worries or comments that I’ll snoop.
No teasing about what the text could be.
I said I wanted to delete it and he was fine with it.
Fuck. Why does that make me want him even more?
I swipe on the text and delete it, then I sit down.
“Feel better?” he asks.
If only.