Chapter 8 #2
Ruby’s amused voice brings me back to the present. “Everything ok over there? Did that omelet offend you?”
“All good.” I plate the omelets and slide one across the island with a bottle of water. “Here. You can’t live off of caffeine.”
“I’ve been doing fine up until now. And it’s not just caffeine; I’m also fueled by spite.”
“Well, you should still hydrate. It makes the spite more effective.”
“Is that a scientific fact?”
“Mmhmm. It was in the journal of shut the fuck up and eat your breakfast.”
“Never heard of it,” she deadpans.
We eat in relative silence, and Ruby makes a show of finishing her entire bottle of water with an exaggerated, “Ahh, so refreshing.” She refills her coffee mug with a smirk on her infuriatingly beautiful face and walks over to the sofa, where she picks up her guitar, strumming out a simple upbeat tune. Her voice floats in a moment later.
“I know why they give men pockets,
It’s where they keep the audacity.
To tell women how to live and act and behave,
Man, I wish I could tell them to just
Shut up and be pretty.
Fuck men,
Fuck the patriarchy,
And the way that they breathe,
And the shit they believe,
Fuck men,
Fuck inequality,
Overt misogyny
And their complicity
In systems keeping us weak
Fuuuuck meeeeeeen.”
She draws out the last syllable, furiously strumming the same chord over and over to a dramatic crescendo.
I shake my head. “Feel better about yourself?”
She beams at me from across the room. “I do, actually.”
“Not bad. Could use a bridge.”
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the slight tilt of her lips when she turns back to her guitar.
I sip my coffee and watch her as she plays a more somber tune. She pauses and slides a notepad across the table, scribbling something before she starts up again. Even from here, I can see how her eyes light up when she plays.
She’s in her element, and it’s a goddamn sight to behold.
I groan when she places the pen between her soft lips, imagining what it would be like to have that mouth on me instead.
Fucking hell.
Living with Ruby is going to be the death of me, and it’s only been a few days. Reaching down, I adjust my rapidly hardening dick. Apparently, this is now a permanent problem.
Footsteps pad down the hallway, and I turn to see my son standing there.
“Morning,” Aiden says, stretching his arms over his head. Kids have an uncanny ability to show up at the worst possible moment, and mine is no exception.
“Hey, buddy. Breakfast?”
Nodding through a yawn, he slides onto the stool. He rests his head against his folded arms, taking me back to nights at the bar. I should be offering him a beer and advice about his failing marriage.
Ruby comes over and rinses out her mug. “Morning,” she says. “Sleep well?”
“I had a weird dream about Jerry. He was as big as a dinosaur.”
She walks over to the fridge and pulls out the orange juice, pouring a glass. “Wow. That’s crazy. Was dinosaur Jerry playing dead?”
Aiden laughs. “Nope.”
Ruby slides the drink in front of him.
It’s amazing how much he’s opened up to her already, but I’m not surprised. Ruby has this way of setting people at ease. It’s why so many people are drawn to her. It’s why I was drawn to her, why I still am.
I crack a few more eggs into the pan and scramble them up. “I’m off for two days. I was thinking we could have a camp out.”
Aiden’s face lights up at the suggestion. “Really? Can Ruby come?”
I try not to let my disappointment show, but I was looking forward to a little one-on-one time. It has nothing to do with Ruby and everything to do with missing my son, wanting to connect with him.
We had a rocky start, and I’ve since made a conscious effort to spend time with him as often as possible, so he knows I’ll always be there for him—that I’ll never leave him the way his mom did.
Or the way my dad did.
Ruby’s gaze meets mine, and before I can answer, she places a reassuring hand over his. “I’d love to, little dude, but I think you should spend some time with your dad, and I have to get some writing done. Maybe next time?”
His shoulders slump, mirroring my own disappointment from moments before. “Ok.”
“You’ll have a great time. And don’t worry about Jerry. I’ll take good care of him while you’re away.”
Aiden perks up a little. “He really likes lettuce. And bananas. And he likes scratches behind his ears, and he has this ball he loves, and—”
I slide Aiden’s breakfast toward him, interrupting his extensive bunny babysitting list. “Slow down, buddy. How about you eat first, and you can show Ruby everything she needs to know after we pack. Sound good?”
He shoves a massive bite of scrambled eggs into his mouth. I turn my attention to Ruby and mouth the words, ‘thank you.’ She gives me a tight-lipped smile in return, crinkling her nose.
Ruby has this way of anticipating my needs, and she does things without question. It’s jarring. I’ve never been cared for like this, and I’m not sure what to do with it. I know one thing for certain—I have to keep my distance. I can’t let the lines blur any more than they already have.
She’s my nanny and I’m her ex-boyfriend’s brother. Ruby belongs on stage under the bright lights with a guitar in her hand, and I belong on the periphery, forever tucked away in the back corner of the arena watching her shine.
Later in the afternoon, I help Aiden pack up all of our camping essentials.
It’s not much, just a cooler with some snacks, and a backpack of his favorite things.
There’s a grove of trees at the back of my property that we use for camping.
I spent last summer building a permanent deck for my canvas bell tent with poles to hang up string lights, and it’s the perfect getaway; it’s close to home, but it still feels like another world.
There’s a small fire pit nearby with horizontal logs for benches, and smaller logs for stools.
Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to come out here with a family—a wife and a few more kids—but the thought is fleeting.
I wouldn’t even know what a real family looks like.
I’m content to be with my best bud and his stuffed dinosaur.
I’d like to give Aiden a family—a mom and siblings—but that’s not in the cards for me. It’s a risk I’m not willing to take. I refuse to become my father’s son.
We finish putting up the tent as the sun dips behind the lake, bringing the solar string lights to life. Aiden helps me gather tinder for the fire, and I grab a few logs from the woodpile. It’s dwindling; I make a mental note to come out here soon to replenish it.
Building a fire is like muscle memory for me, and Aiden is catching on quickly, too.
I used to camp with my brother growing up, sometimes out of necessity when things went to shit at one of the foster homes.
It was easier to hide out in the woods than to face whatever was waiting for us at home, if you can even call it a home.
When Breanna left, I swore I’d do better for Aiden.
I put another log on the fire, and the flame crackles higher.
“Is it ready? Can we make s'mores?” Aiden asks excitedly.
“Yep. Hand me one of those pokers. And be careful.” I sink onto a makeshift stool and unzip my pack with the chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers.
He passes me the metal stick with the wooden handle, and I skewer a large marshmallow on the end. Positioning him between my legs, I grab his hand and help him hold the stick over the fire.
“Keep it steady, and not too close or it’ll burn.”
He spins the stick like a rotisserie chicken. Not my preferred method, but it’ll get the job done.
“Good job, bud.”
As if on instinct, my eyes drift to the upstairs window I can just make out between the trees. The light is on, though I can’t see much of anything else. She’s up there, though. I know it. Is she in my bed? Maybe taking a bath?
Fuck, I need to stop thinking about her.
“Dad!”
I look back to find that Aiden’s marshmallow has caught fire, burning to a crisp. “Oh shit.” I snatch the poker from his hand and blow it out. “Sorry. I should’ve been watching.”
“It’s ok. Can I try again?”
“Of course.” I skewer a new marshmallow, and we start over from the beginning. This time, I keep my focus where it should've been all along—on Aiden. I can’t let Ruby distract me. She’s a temptation I can’t afford to give in to.
Ruby
A small fire crackles in the grove, and string lights hang between the trees, creating a canopy like a fairy garden. I can just make out a canvas tent and two shadowy figures sitting beside the fire.
“You’re a good dad, Liam Murphy,” I whisper. Releasing my hold on the gossamer curtains, I trail back toward the en suite bathroom, stripping off my clothes as I go.
I’ve already taken full advantage of Liam’s bathroom oasis several times since moving in.
I turn the water just below the temperature of hell, and add oils and bubbles, bathing the room in the soothing scents of rosewater and sandalwood.
After lighting a few ambler candles and dimming the lights, I step into the steaming bathwater.
The warmth seeps into me, soothing aches I didn’t realize I’d been living with until my body is utterly boneless.
Two years on tour takes a toll on the body, and I’ve been feeling the consequences more and more since it ended. Maybe I should borrow Liam’s gym and take up yoga again. It’s been a few years, and I’m not as bendy as I used to be, but it could help with the strain.
I sigh. No matter how many baths I take, or yoga poses I force my body into, there’s one ache nothing can soothe—nothing short of having Liam between my thighs.
As my thoughts drift back to his corded forearms and what he’d look like with his shirt off, I slip my hand beneath the water and find the spot that throbs for him the most.
My fingers glide lower, and my pussy clenches on contact.
God, I wish I had someone else touching me—him touching me.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone, and my body yearns for it.
In a world where social media is inundated with rumors and illicit leaks, it’s hard to trust people, let alone be intimate with them.
It’s been years, and I’m dreading the day when my hands and my toys aren’t enough.
My breathing becomes ragged as I apply more pressure and circle faster.
I pinch my eyes shut, resting my head back against the porcelain.
The orgasm builds slowly along my spine, thoughts of Liam on his knees with his mouth on me bringing me closer to the edge.
His gravelly voice in my ear whispering filthy words, threats of all the delicious things he wants to do to me.
The gruff promise of his rough palm and my body draped over his lap replays in my mind.
I let out a small whimper that echoes through the empty bathroom, the water sloshing as I work myself faster. When I hit my peak, I cry his name above the pounding in my chest. The orgasm drags on for what feels like an eternity, white lights exploding behind my eyelids.
My heartbeat settles back to a normal rhythm. I take a deep breath and dip my head under the water, staying there until my lungs burn and I can’t hold on any longer, gasping when I breach the surface.
What the hell was I thinking moving in here? Being near Liam is like lighting a match beside a can of gasoline. It’s only a matter of time before we catch fire, and I’m not sure if either of us will be left standing in the ashes.