Chapter Twenty-Four
Xavier
The instant I open the back door, I smell pizza, wood, and a combination of several colognes mixed with soap. And probably a hint of sweat from the workout gear Ben left near the door.
I step inside, dropping my keys on the counter. “If that’s the last of the pizza, I’m not above fighting you for it.”
“Too late,” Ben calls from the living room. “You should’ve come home at a normal hour like the rest of us.”
“Define normal.”
“Not disappearing more nights than you show up.”
I pause halfway to the kitchen. That’s… not accurate.
It’s also not wrong. I grab a slice anyway, leaning against the counter as I take a bite.
Cold. Of course it’s cold. And the fact that it lands so hard I have to swallow around it bothers me more than it should.
Because if Ben’s right, then this isn’t just about pizza, and I’m not ready to deal with that.
Ben stretches out on the couch, one arm thrown over the back, watching me like he’s been waiting for this conversation.
“You working late,” he says, casual in a way that isn’t casual, “or are you finding excuses to be at that house?”
“Working,” I say.
“Uh-huh.” He nods like he doesn’t believe me. “At a house at the edge of town?”
I don’t answer because answering makes it a thing.
“Heard you’ve been stopping by Ruby’s place.” He kicks his feet up onto the sofa. “Hanging around. Staying late.”
“I’ve stopped by.” The pizza feels like a cold lump in my stomach. I should’ve tossed it into the microwave.
“Three nights in a row?”
“Not three.”
He raises a brow. “Two, then.”
I take another bite of pizza, so I don’t have to respond. It goes down the wrong way, and I nearly gag before forcing it through. Great. Exactly what I need right now.
“Plus the gym.” He cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve been showing up there more too.”
“I’ve always gone to the gym.”
“Yeah….” His damned eyebrow arches higher. “To work out.”
I stare at him. He grins. I don’t find it funny. “What’s your point?”
“My point.” He drops his feet to the floor, arm falling down to his side, and sits forward. “Is that you don’t do anything without a reason, and this is getting hard to ignore. I’m asking because it looks like this matters to you more than you’re saying.”
“I do a lot of things without a reason.”
“Name one.”
I open my mouth. Close it.
“Exactly.”
I push off the counter, irritation climbing faster than it should. “She needed help with the house.”
“So you’re playing handyman now?”
“I build houses.”
“You don’t build that house,” he says. “Not on your off hours.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
Ben watches me. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah,” I snap. Too fast. Too sharp. The word hangs there.
I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair.
“She’s dealing with some stuff.” This time the words come out more controlled with less heat.
“Guy at the gym won’t leave her alone. Anonymous notes.
Someone sending things to her house. If I don’t keep an eye on it, it could get worse. ”
Ben’s expression shifts, the teasing fading. “What in the fuck?”
I march to the trash can and dump the pizza remnants into the garbage. This conversation ruined my appetite.
“So you’re checking on her?”
“Yes. I’d do that for anyone.” That part’s true. Mostly. “I don’t like how her boss was acting either. Controlling. Watching everything she does. Questioning her. It’s not right.”
Ben studies me. “And you care because…?”
“Because she’s good at her job.” I rake my hand through my hair. I should’ve headed straight to my room. “Because she doesn’t deserve that.”
Also true, but the way he’s looking at me makes it feel like it’s more than it is.
The last thing I want is for people to make this a thing and say something to Ruby.
She’s got enough on her plate without having people coming up to her asking if we’re a thing.
If I don’t shut it down now, this could spread into something she has to deal with too. It’s time to shut that down.
“I’ve seen how she handles things. She’s competent. Organized. Doesn’t make problems bigger than they need to be.”
I inhale, taking in the scent of onions and garlic. My mouth waters. That smells better than cold pizza on cardboard. The benefit of living with a 5-star chef is being a guinea pig for new recipes, and Ben abhors tiny portions.
Ben leans back again, arms crossing. “You sound like you’re writing her a performance review.”
“I offered her a job.” That gets his attention. It’s not like I can keep the job offer out of the public eye.
“You what?” Ben braces his hands on the cushions and shoves upward until he’s standing across from me.
“At the office.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Dad needs someone. She fits.”
“And she said yes?”
“She said she’d think about it.” I drop my arms back to my sides, realizing a defensive stance won’t improve the situation.
“Wow,” he mutters. “You’re recruiting now.”
“I’m solving a problem.”
“Uh-huh.”
I ignore him. My phone buzzes on the counter. Unknown number. I glance at it, debating. It buzzes again. Then a text comes through.
Lindsey: Hey. I’ve got a reno question. Can I run something by you?
I stare at the screen.
Ben notices. “Important?”
“No.”
I type back without thinking too hard about it.
Me: Call the office tomorrow. I’ll look at it then.
Three dots pop up.
Lindsey: It’ll just take a second.
My teeth grind together.
Me: I’m off. Call tomorrow.
I set the phone down harder than necessary.
“Client?” Ben asks.
“Something like that.” I swipe my hands on my jeans.
“Do you need to make a call?” He tips his head in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m making a garlic and mushroom risotto, so I can go into the kitchen to give you some space.”
“No need to leave on my account. I’m not working.”
“Since when?” he asks.
“Since I said I’m not.” The words come out flat. Final.
Ben goes silent, then nods. “Alright.”
“She’s starting in two weeks,” I add, like that’s the part that matters.
“Ruby?”
“Yeah.”
Ben watches me again, that look back in his eyes. The one that says he’s putting pieces together I’m not acknowledging, and he’s not letting it go.
“Good,” he says. “She’ll be safer there.”
That’s the point. That’s the only point. I nod once. “Yeah.”
“Going back out?”
“No.” I grab my phone and keys, turning toward the staircase. “Not tonight.”
Because she’s fine. Because she’s safe. Because I’m not doing anything different than I would for anyone else. That’s what I tell myself as I close my door and drop my stuff on the dresser. But the words don’t land the way they should.
My phone buzzes again. I don’t go back for it.