Chapter Seventeen
Dash
I hold the door open for Beckett and Ruby to exit the restaurant ahead of me, catching the slightest scent of Ruby’s perfume as she does. It’s something subtle. So unassuming that if I wasn’t paying attention, I’d miss it.
And doesn’t that just fit her perfectly? She’s the kind of girl you have to slow down to really appreciate, otherwise you may miss the gentle, but no less striking, beauty that’s staring back at you.
“Think it’s the first intermission yet?” Beckett asks.
“Nah, not quite.” I hold up my phone. “Just checked before we left the restaurant.”
“Oh, nice! We’d better hurry then.”
So we do. We’re hustling to our rinkside seats so quickly I’m out of breath and laughing by the time we sit down.
Ruby laughs and presses a hand to her side. “It’s been too long since I ran like that,” she huffs. “I need to work out more.”
“Listen, I work out just about every day, and I’m still struggling.”
Her responding laugh does things to me I can’t quite describe. All I know is that I want to make her laugh just like that again and again.
“Who’s ready for some cheese fries?” Beckett leans over Ruby, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
“How are you not stuffed? You had five tacos!” Ruby flings her hands in the air, clearly exasperated.
“I can take him,” I say before my conscience kicks in. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t.”
“I don’t mind, it’s just—”
“Not too much,” I interject. “I promise I don’t mind.”
Our gazes lock, and I can see the moment she decides I’m telling her the truth. “Okay, you can take him.” She turns to her brother. “But you had better be good. No pestering Dash.”
“Aw, come on, Ruby. I’m not a toddler.” Beck hops to his feet and waves me on. “Come on, Dash. Let’s go.”
I suppress the urge to laugh, sending Ruby one last look. “We’ll be fine. Do you want anything?”
She pulls her bottom lip into her teeth, the tiny act stealing my full attention. “Just an ice water. If that’s okay.”
I lift my eyes back to hers. “Of course it’s okay. We’ll be right back.” I step past her, careful to only brush her knees, then toss her a wink meant to reassure her I’ve got this.
***
When we return, arms stuffed full with popcorn, cheese fries, and drinks, I’m surprised to see some rando in my seat talking Ruby up like she’s an old friend.
Backward ball cap with blond hair peeking out from underneath, tan skin, broad-shouldered…
not familiar but definitely trying to familiarize himself with her.
Beck heads down our row first, plopping down in the open seat next to Ruby. Angling his way, her eyes widen when she sees me. Ballcap is still speaking to her as if she didn’t turn away from him, and she pleads with her eyes for me to rescue her.
I ease myself down the row, careful not to disturb anyone, only stopping once I reach her. “Here you go, babe,” I say, handing her the large ice water I purchased. “Your water.”
“Uh, thanks.” Her fingers wrap around the drink while she sends some serious side-eye to her new friend.
“Babe?” The guy looks me up and down, likely assessing how big of a threat I am. “I thought you said you were single?”
I have the sudden urge to punch the guy right in the center of his pinched brow for speaking to her like she’s a liar, but I refrain. Now’s not the time to muck up the rest of my career for some shmuck who isn’t worth it.
“I-I-I am, but—”
“She was,” I say. “But now I’m here, and she’s not.” I glare down at the intruder. “And you’re in my seat.”
The guy narrows his gaze on me. “Hey, you look familiar.”
“That’s because he’s the Dash DiFranco!” Beck joins in, pointing at me like I’m some superhero.
Blondie with the ballcap rears back with a grimace before pinning Ruby with one final sneer. “Females these days,” he grouses, getting to his feet and wedging his big body back down the row. He takes a seat beside two other beer-drinking guys in the row behind us.
If Beck wasn’t here, I might teach the guy a lesson about referring to women as females but the sense of responsibility I feel toward the kid is too great to throw away by picking a fight with a stranger.
Too late, I realize we’ve attracted a bit of attention.
I smile and dip my chin politely to the staring people nearby.
I set the rest of the drinks into the surrounding cupholders and pass the bag of popcorn to Ruby before silently taking my seat.
I want to apologize for acting like a caveman, but all signs pointed to her being in distress.
My conscience warns me I’d better cool it with the possessiveness, or she’ll think I’m like this all the time.
I’m winding up, ready to give an explanation for my actions, when she leans into me, bumping her shoulder against mine.
“Thank you for doing that,” she says, low enough that Beck won’t hear.
“That guy kept asking me questions, and he was so loud I felt like I had to answer him just so he wouldn’t cause more of a scene.
I think he might have been a little drunk. ”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh, fighting the urge to look back at him and his buddies. “I think he was. I’m sorry for calling you babe.”
She takes a sip of her water. “You practically had to. I don’t think he would’ve taken the hint otherwise.”
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to keep up the charade,” I say. “Just for a little while, at least.”
Her smile turns a bit wicked. “I think you’re right. Should you…” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know. Put your arm around me or something?”
My pulse jumps. “It’s what a good boyfriend would do.” I pause, giving her ample time to reject me. “Right?”
“I think so.”
Slowly, again trying to give her the chance to stop me if she doesn’t want this, I bring my arm around her and lightly rest my forearm on her shoulder. “Like this?”
She snuggles closer, sending my heart soaring. “Just like this.”
We sit like we’re a genuine couple for who knows how long and watch the game. Even Beckett’s attention is locked on the players skating across the ice. I take the opportunity to ask the one question that nags at me.
“Did you really tell that guy you were single?”
I peek a glance at her. She’s so close that the tiny yellow flecks in her blue eyes sparkle under the arena’s neon lights.
“I didn’t know what else to say.” There’s a question in her tone. A hidden subtext she wants me to pick up on.
“Maybe if you had worn the jersey, you wouldn’t have had to say anything.”
She sucks in a quick breath, and for a second, I wonder if she’s going to hyperventilate like she almost did in the restaurant. This time, though, her eyes darken, lashes fluttering over her bright eyes. Her lips part, then close. Then open again.
But before she can give voice to one of the runaway thoughts spiriting away from her, I give in to the longing I’ve been suppressing since the second time we met.
“Ruby, will you go out with me?”