Chapter Four
Ruby
Ruby spotted Celeste the moment she pulled into the rental lot.
Hard to miss her, really. She was leaning against a dependable black Honda, coffee cup in one hand, phone in the other, looking like she'd stepped out of some fancy commercial.
Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that probably took thirty seconds but looked effortlessly polished.
Dark jeans, a cream sweater that looked expensive and ankle boots that definitely were.
Ruby glanced down at her own outfit—vintage band t-shirt, leather jacket with a fashion rip in the sleeve, sneakers she couldn’t be bothered to replace—and felt suddenly underdressed.
“Morning,” she called out, hoisting her duffel bag higher on her shoulder.
Celeste looked up, and something flickered across her face. Resignation, maybe. Or the look of someone about to jump out of a plane and regretting every decision that led to this moment.
“Good morning.”
“How long have you been here?” Ruby checked her phone. Five minutes to nine. She was early, which meant Celeste was…
“About thirty minutes.”
She paused a few feet away. “Seriously? Do you do this all the time? Show up early to things?”
Celeste's expression went blank. “Yes.”
Of course she did. Celeste probably arrived at appointments fifteen minutes early with a color-coded planner and backup plans for her backup plans. The woman was control personified.
“That's—” Ruby caught herself. She was supposed to be making this easier, not starting off by judging her travel partner’s hypervigilance. “Sorry, just asking. Definitely not judging.”
“I didn't think you were judging.”
“You're kind of giving me a look that suggests otherwise.”
. “I'm not giving you a look.”
“You're definitely giving me a look. It's very, um,” Ruby made a vague gesture. “Hostile adjacent.”
“Hostile adjacent?”
“Yeah. Like, not outright hostile, but in the general neighborhood.” Ruby grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. “Close enough that the hostile individual could walk over and borrow a cup of sugar.”
Celeste's mouth twitched, but she gave no other indication that she enjoyed the joke. “I already got the key and signed both our names. We can go whenever you're ready.”
“Lovely.” Ruby moved to the back of the Honda, popping the trunk. She tossed her duffel bag in next to what could only be described as a luggage set. Matching pieces in dove gray, the kind with wheels and organizational compartments and probably a built-in weather station.
Seriously? she thought. A full matching set for a not so lengthy trip?
But she kept her mouth shut and climbed into the passenger seat. The interior smelled like Celeste's perfume, something floral with a hint of citrus.
Celeste slid into the driver's seat, adjusting the mirrors with precise movements. The silence stretched, not quite comfortable but not entirely awkward either. More like two people trapped in an elevator, hyperaware of each other's breathing.
Ruby opened her mouth just as Celeste did.
They both stopped.
“Sorry, you go,” Ruby said.
Celeste cleared her throat, eyes fixed on the windshield. “I wanted to apologize for the other day. I was unnecessarily cold.”
Ruby couldn't help it—she grinned. “Is this an official apology? Did someone put you up to this? Because you look like you're being held at gunpoint.”
“I'm an adult.” Celeste's voice was stiff. “Adults reflect on their behavior and make amends.”
“Very mature of you.” Ruby settled back in her seat, stretching her legs. The car was spacious enough that she didn't feel cramped, which was good. Having to fold her knees up through the course of the trip would've been torture. “For the record, I didn't take offense. I was mostly amused.”
Celeste glanced at her briefly before she turned her attention back to starting the car. “It's nice to know you're the same funny and cool cucumber you've always been.”
“How do you mean?”
“You always seemed unruffled. Nothing bothered you.” Celeste pulled out of the parking spot, her movements smooth and controlled. “High school and all those competitions, you made it look effortless.”
Ruby's smile felt suddenly tight. Unruffled. Cool cucumber. That version of herself didn't exist anymore, if it ever really had. The Ruby who'd coasted through high school on raw talent and bravado, who thought the world would bend to her will if she was just smart enough, talented enough.
That girl had crashed and burned spectacularly in college.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Ruby realized she'd been quiet too long. “No, not at all.” She forced brightness into her voice, the same deflection she'd perfected over years of avoiding difficult conversations. “Just thinking about how much things change, you know?”
Celeste nodded, navigating them onto the main road. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, catching in her hair, turning the brown strands amber. She had elegant hands, Ruby noticed. Long fingers, neat nails.
Beautiful. God, when had Celeste Russo become so unfairly goodlooking?
“A beautiful woman like you couldn't possibly cause much offense.”
The words escaped before Ruby could catch them. She wanted to grab them from the air, stuff them back in her mouth, maybe swallow her own tongue for good measure.
Celeste's eyes widened. Her gaze cut to Ruby, then back to the road so fast Ruby almost got whiplash watching. A flush crept up her neck, staining the skin above her collar pink.
“Okay,” Ruby said into the silence, trying to salvage this. “What's wrong? Why aren't you making eye contact?”
“I am making eye contact.”
“You're staring at the road like it's about to sprout obstacles.”
Celeste's flush deepened, spreading to her cheeks. “I'm shy.”
Ruby laughed before she could stop herself. “You're shy? Celeste Russo is never shy.”
“I can be shy.”
“You argued a case in front of the state supreme court. Braden told me about it.” Ruby twisted in her seat to face her properly. “You stared down five justices and didn't even blink.”
“That's different.”
“How is that different?”
“That's work. This is—” She gestured vaguely between them. “Personal.”
Personal. The word hung in the air, weighted with implications Ruby wasn't sure how to unpack.
“For what it's worth,” Ruby began, raising her hands up in muted apology, “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. The compliment thing. That just kind of fell out.”
“It's fine.”
“You say that, but you're gripping the steering wheel like it owes you money.”
Celeste's grip loosened fractionally. “You're very observant.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“What occupation requires you to notice steering wheel tension?”
“Professional people-watcher. I'm very qualified after years of experience.” She slouched lower in her seat, watching the town slide past outside the window. “Also, my brother says I'm nosy. But I prefer the term, 'curious about the human condition.'“
“That's one way to put it.” Celeste's shoulders had started to relax, the rigid line of her spine easing slightly. “How is Ronan? Jackson mentioned he's doing well.”
“He's a very successful tech bro now. Making our mother very proud with his responsible life choices.”
“And you?”
The question landed between them, casual but weighted. “I paint sometimes. Travel. Try to avoid settling down anywhere too long.”
“That sounds nice and freeing.”
“It sounds like running,” Ruby said before she could think better of it. Then, because she'd already opened that door, “Which it is. Mostly.”
Celeste was quiet for a moment. “What are you running from?”
“Expectations. The general disappointment of authority figures.” Ruby kept her tone light. “The usual.”
“I know something about that.”
Silence filled the air as Ruby waited for something, a detailed explanation or a follow-up statement. But there was nothing.
Very well then. It appeared the best option was to move on and pretend the recent sentence by Celeste didn’t exist.
“There you go again,” she said, changing the topic with a chuckle. “Is that you being shy once more?”
Celeste was mute for a long moment, her profile sharp against the morning light. “Not quite,” she said finally in a murmur so low Ruby almost missed it. “I'm shy around you specifically.”
Ruby's heart did something complicated in her chest. She turned to study Celeste's face but the other woman refused to look away from the road.
You're shy? Ruby wanted to say. Celeste Russo, who once eviscerated a teacher for grading unfairly, who graduated valedictorian, who built a successful law practice. You're telling me I make you shy?
But she didn't say any of that. Because something in Celeste's admission felt fragile, like a confession that had cost her something to make.
Instead, Ruby just smiled. “Well, that's interesting.”
Celeste shot her a quick glance, something like panic in her eyes. “What's interesting?”
“Just—” Ruby gestured vaguely. “You. This. The fact that you're admitting to being shy when five minutes ago you were trying to apologize like it was a deposition.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You absolutely do.” Ruby's smile widened. “You're fascinating, Celeste Russo. I'm starting to think this trip might be more interesting than I expected.”
Celeste didn't respond, but Ruby didn’t mind the silence this time.
What a truly interesting woman, she thought, watching Celeste navigate the highway with practiced ease.
One minute treating her like an arch-nemesis over ancient high school grievances, the next admitting that Ruby's presence made her shy. The contradiction was dizzying. Intriguing.
Dangerous.
Because Ruby had a terrible track record with fascinating women who were complicated and unavailable. And Celeste Russo was definitely both.
But as the city limits of Cheyenne Valley disappeared in the rearview mirror and the open road stretched ahead of them, Ruby couldn't quite bring herself to be wary about the danger.