25. Sweet Things
25
SWEET THINGS
Jake
Ruby sucked on a Cherry Popsicle, and my life would never be the same. How had I gone thirty-eight years without witnessing something so outrageously sexy? But at least I was lucky enough to see it now, and I never wanted to look away.
As we grabbed a table at the edge of the starlit beach, my eyes were glued to the sight of her tongue swirling along the length of the cherry ice. Maybe it was the talk of sex toys, or the conversation about tight dresses, or maybe it was the moment we’d shared in the car—when I’d implored her to understand all she’d done for me. Whatever it was, I couldn’t think about a damn thing but this woman. Especially as she sat across the table from me, licking the frozen treat, rolling her eyes, and moaning in culinary delight.
Really, I should have focused on work and only work. I should have rolled up my proverbial sleeves and devised a plan for what was next. But this strong, fierce, and sexy-as-sin woman had all my attention. Getting involved with someone while on a job was a mistake, but when I was with her, I didn’t think. I felt. And my body thought it was a very good idea to take her into my arms.
I tried to keep the mood light though. Focus on the simple things.
“Enjoying yourself?” I asked as I finished my mint chocolate chip ice cream.
She waggled the popsicle my way. “This is heavenly. You really should have one.”
“Yeah, I should. But one of us needs to drive. So by all means, continue fellating the popsicle.”
“I do believe I will.” She drew the popsicle in deep and sucked long and hard.
Groaning, I scrubbed a hand over my jaw. “You’re killing me.”
She cocked her head, affecting a quizzical look. So innocent, so faux innocent. “How am I killing you, Jake? I thought we were sticking to just work ?”
Like either one of us had been good at that. “And we have an excellent track record at that, don’t we?”
“We are the best at it,” she said, and added a lick for good measure. At least she was having a good time. Some of her earlier tension seemed to have drained away. I was glad to see her in a better mood, a lighter mood. She looked good feisty, but she looked damn good when she was having fun.
A night breeze blew by, and strands of her hair danced lazily around her shoulders. I could have looked away, contemplated the crescent moon pouring its light over the water or the tiki torches that flickered around the bar on the sugary white sand.
But she made it near impossible to think of anything other than…her.
I had to try though. I drew a deep soldiering breath and called on all my focus, casting nighttime desires out to sea. “Let’s talk about what we know and what we need to know. What we’ve learned.”
“We’ve learned my stepdad has some most excellent chocolate bars from Ecuador. At least, I suspect they’re excellent, given his taste.”
She still seemed to be unwinding, and needing to, so I said, “Want to try some, sweetheart?”
Her eyes twinkled. “You bet I do.”
It was like we were doing something naughty, breaking into the special stash.
“He always did have good treats.” She pointed to the bar. “You get to have some too since you were so studly tonight, scaling that roof.”
I laughed. “Yes, I was a big stud, seizing chocolate.”
“And I’ve noticed you like sweet things.”
I couldn’t resist. “Very, very sweet things.”
Holding out her hand, she beckoned with her fingers. “Chocolate, please.”
I unwrapped a corner and handed a square over. Setting aside the ice pop, Ruby bit into it, and I did the same with mine. Mmm, wow. It melted on my tongue. “This is incredible.”
“It’s decadent,” she said as she finished it.
“No wonder he keeps a secret stash locked up.” We ate a little more, since tonight was apparently for sweet things. When we finished, I said, “So there are no diamonds in the safe.”
She nodded intensely. “Which means we keep looking for them.”
I saw real determination in her eyes, heard it in her voice. I liked how much she wanted to help her mother. And I liked the fiery spark that lit her up when she thought about it.
“Yup. We’ll keep on it. Now, tell me what you learned at the sex-toy party,” I said before I got distracted by Ruby…again.
She switched to work mode quickly, and recapped what she’d uncovered about the gallery expansion plans, as well as her stepfather’s security concerns at the club.
“My original thought was he kept the diamonds at the house and, bit by bit, batch by batch, he had been converting them into money,” I said. “But he must keep them elsewhere or he moves them in small groups. Where’s the most likely place they might be, besides the house?”
She snapped her fingers. “Kalila! She used to do some admin work for my stepdad. She’ll be at the boat party tomorrow. We can quiz her, see if she knows anything,” she said, with fresh excitement in her voice, like she was more determined than before.
“You’re on fire tonight,” I said. “Is it the Cherry Popsicle?”
“I suppose it was seeing that big diamond on Willow’s throat. Made me mad.” She traced a thoughtful pattern in the wood of the picnic table. “I still don’t want him to go to prison though.”
I held up my empty hands. “Not my job to put people behind bars. I work around the law, not for the law.”
“You’re not going to turn him in to the SEC or something?” she asked, seeming concerned.
“I work for clients—not government agencies. When I find the diamonds, I return them to their rightful owners. Andrew and the Eli Fund. Simple as that.”
She quirked up the corner of her lips, as if considering what I’d said, then nodded. “Fair enough.” Picking up her popsicle, she licked it one last time and set the stick on the table. “Okay, let’s play truth or dare.” She waved her hand to erase her words. “Wait. No. Just truth.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re still pissed that I didn’t tell you what I was planning tonight?”
She shook her head. “I’m not. But can we make a deal?”
I didn’t want to make deals before I knew what they were. “Maybe.”
“Next time, can you tell me your plans?” she asked. She was so earnest in her request, and I knew I’d hurt her by not telling her. I’d had my reasons, true. But she wanted me to show her we were on the same team. I’d have to do that for her if we were to keep working together.
“I will.”
“Good. So,” she said, rubbing her palms, her lips curving as if in anticipation. “How was it? Sneaking into his house?”
“Fun,” I said, flashing a grin.
“Did you get a thrill out of it?” She sounded wickedly enchanted by the possibility. Maybe hooked on it.
“Honestly, yes,” I said. “I love what I do. It’s exciting to try to right a wrong.”
Her gaze drifted to my arm, and the scar I’d recently acquired. “Speaking of righting a wrong, and truth or dare—truth again. That’s not from a fishing accident, is it?”
I held up my hands in surrender and laughed.
“How did it happen? Tell the truth this time. If you even can,” she said, but her tone was teasing, like we’d moved beyond her annoyance over feeling tricked. I was glad of that. Grateful to be on this side of the evening. Especially when she dropped her hand to my wrist and ran a finger along the scar.
Her touch unlocked me. I no longer wanted to hide who I was from her for self-protection. I wanted her to know me.
I shook my head. “Knife fight in London. Couple of lowlifes who stole a priceless antique.”
“Did it hurt?” she asked.
“At the time, yes.”
“And now?” she asked, running her finger along the line of raised white flesh.
My breath hitched. “No,” I whispered, taking her hand in mine. “Truth or dare?”
She flashed me a grin. “Dare.”
“I dare you to go for a walk on the beach with me.”
“I thought we were trying to focus on just work.”
“You mean a walk on the beach isn’t work?” I asked playfully.
“Not with you,” she said.
I couldn’t argue. Truthfully, I wanted to get to know her better. “Let’s talk more.”
I toed off my sneakers and left them on the entrance to the beach next to her flip-flops as we headed along the sand, the ocean waves gently lapping against the shore in a peaceful night rhythm. “You said you appointed yourself as a private detective for your mom. What made you want to do it?”
“Eli screwed around on her for years.”
I burned. “There’s a special place in hell for people who do that.”
“Maybe there is. The hard part is I kind of had a feeling.” She sounded a touch guilty.
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“He had so many friends who were women. Maybe they were colleagues. I didn’t want to think he was cheating, that he’d hurt our family like that. I sort of hid from the truth at first myself, but even when it was clear what was going on, I wasn’t sure if I should say something or not. Was it my place to tap my mom’s shoulder and say, ‘ Mom, do you think your husband’s screwing the assistant? ’ But she learned about it on her own, and he groveled, and she tried again. But it didn’t work.”
“She’d had enough of him?”
“Yes. At that point, my brother and I were both out of the house and living on our own, so she no longer felt that obligation that I think was the biggest driving factor for her in staying with him when I was younger. They got divorced, but he’s a very shrewd man and knows how to manipulate. He was able to get away with pretty much everything and leave her with very little.”
I scoffed. Guys like that were the worst. “That’s just shitty.”
“Yup,” she said with a resigned sigh, then she stopped and ran her finger over the pendant of the silver necklace she wore. “My mom is great though. We’re really close. I basically adore her. She’s incredibly supportive of me and my business. She made this for me. That’s what she does—makes jewelry.”
Gently, I brushed my thumb across the miniature treasure chest, grazing the soft skin of her chest. “This is lovely,” I said. I wasn’t just talking about the necklace.
She swallowed and breathed a quiet thank you . “And look, it’s not like she’s destitute. But he took everything , and it just seems so wrong. She helped him start his business with money she earned from selling jewelry at craft fairs,” she said, a righteous anger edging her voice.
“It’s completely wrong. Completely unfair. Especially when she made his business and livelihood possible,” I said, agreeing.
“She’s very giving and very generous, and that’s one of the things I love about her. That’s why I came here early to try to figure out what happened with the money. Like I’m Robin Hood or something. And that’s why I want to help—” Then she stopped talking. Like she’d simply sliced off the end of the sentence.
“Are you okay?” I placed a hand on her elbow. I was unable to stop touching her.
“Why am I telling you this?” she asked, but the small smile forming on her lips gave her away. She wanted to trust me.
“Because I’m easy to talk to,” I said, hoping she believed that too. Then I turned more serious. “You haven’t mentioned your dad. Is he gone?”
“He died of a heart attack when I was three. Never really knew him.”
I squeezed her hand. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, then took a deep breath, as if the air were refueling her. “What about you? Why do you do this?”
“This is just a job for me,” I said, trying to keep my tone even as we started walking once more.
She gave me an I call bullshit face. “Right.”
“Just a job,” I repeated, toeing my own party line. I didn’t like to give up pieces of myself. I’d been burned before.
But Ruby was different. She was driven and kind, persistent and fierce. And she wasn’t going to let me get away with anything less, not when she’d opened up.
She stopped in her tracks and locked her gaze on mine. “Nothing is just a job,” she said, tipping her forehead to the inky black of the sea at night, starlight dancing across the water. “Take what I do. I do adventure tours because I love it. But also because the water is where I’ve always felt most at home. It makes me feel peaceful, like a part of me. The part that makes me whole.”
She shook her head, as if shaking away the memories on the gentle breeze, then shot me that sweet smile I’d grown so fond of. “So what’s your story, Jake Hawkins? It’s only fair. We partnered up, and you know my motivation. I want to know what your story is. All I really know about you is that you have two sisters and you’re some kind of a recovery specialist.”
She deserved the truth. She’d earned it too. I heaved a sigh and pointed to the sand that stretched endlessly in front of us. “Let’s keep walking.” Walk and talk. I didn’t often serve up a piece of myself like this, didn’t like to revisit the worst days of my life. But she’d been honest, and I owed it to her to do the same.
“I have a little brother too. There are four of us. And I do what I do because I’m good at it. Because it pays the bills. Because my older sister and I are responsible for our younger sister and younger brother. My parents were killed by a drunk driver several years ago.”
Her eyes brimmed with sympathy. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.” She reached for my arm again, wrapping her hand around it as we walked through the sand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Long-simmering tension curled through me, winding in my veins, twisting through my blood as memories flashed before me.
The cops at the door.
The knock.
The solemn look on their faces as they took off their blue caps, came inside, and told Kate and me the news. Died on impact. The car had skidded off the road and wrapped itself around a tree.
“Kate and I were in our early thirties, but Kylie and Brandt were still teenagers.”
“That must have been so hard. Did they find the guy?”
I breathed in sharply. “Yes, but nothing happened.”
Those words— nothing happened —contained all my anger, all my frustration, and all my reasons.
“What do you mean?”
“The fucker got away with it. He was some twenty-three-year-old trust-fund baby, smashed out of his mind, and he lawyered up and lived his life like it never happened. I think, if memory serves,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my tone, “he did have to put in fifty hours of community service. Reshelving books at the library. I’m sure that taught him a big lesson.”
She huffed in shared frustration. “Amazing how just hiring a lawyer and fighting like an asshole can enable you to get away with stuff.” She squeezed my hand. “That’s why you do what you do,” she said, getting it, getting me.
“I guess I’ve found my own way to try to see justice done.”
“That’s amazing,” she said, a little awed.
I wasn’t sure what to do with her awe. I didn’t feel noble. I was simply a man trying to live by a code. “I’m glad you think so, Ruby,” I said, genuinely.
“I do,” she said, her voice quiet against the night. “I appreciate you sharing all that.”
Hour by hour, it had become easier to talk with her. To connect. “Thanks for listening.”
I tugged on her hand, and the serious moment started to fade away, like grains of sand pulled out to sea. I didn’t want to flip the mood to lightness or to make a joke. But I didn’t want to keep talking about hard things either. In fact, when I looked at her face, silhouetted by the moonlight, I didn’t want to talk much anymore.
The look in her eyes—inviting, vulnerable—said she didn’t either. I tipped my forehead toward a nearby lifeguard stand, unoccupied at this late hour. We closed the distance, and I backed up to it, leaned against it, feeling like we were in our own corner of the night. One I didn’t want to leave.