Chapter Eight
Ruby
Ruby stared at the closed bathroom door, willing herself to stop replaying the last couple of minutes like some lovesick teenager.
What the hell had that been, the closeness between them? That was flirting, wasn't it? Except it hadn't felt calculated or intentional. It had just happened. Like her mouth and body operated independently of her brain whenever Celeste was within a five-foot radius.
This was a problem. A big, complicated, absolutely terrible problem.
Because between Cheyenne Valley and this tiny room above an antique store, Ruby had increasingly found herself drawn to Celeste Russo. A draw that made her chest ache, her thoughts scatter and her usual confidence evaporate like morning dew.
She'd always been drawn to people who challenged her, who made her work for their attention. But this felt different. Deeper. Like Celeste had reached within and rearranged something fundamental inside her without even trying.
Ruby flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The wood beams were old, probably original to the building. Someone had carved initials into one of them—A.H. + R.M., surrounded by a lopsided heart. A declaration of love that had outlasted whoever carved it.
That's what Ruby had always wanted, really.
Since she was a kid watching romance movies while her brother rolled his eyes.
She'd always believed in grand romantic gestures and happily-ever-afters.
She wanted someone to build a life with.
Someone who'd be proud to introduce her to their family, hold her hand in public, love her loudly and without reservation.
She'd thought she'd found that a few times.
Claire, who'd kissed her in dark corners but introduced her as her roommate at parties.
Melissa, who'd said she loved Ruby but asked her not to “be so obvious” at work events—whatever that meant.
Sarah, who'd been perfect on paper but had somehow never gotten around to telling her conservative parents that Ruby was her girlfriend, not just her friend.
Each time, Ruby had convinced herself it would be different. That eventually they'd come around and choose her.
Each time, she'd been wrong.
After Sarah, Ruby had made herself a promise: never again. She deserved to be loved openly, without shame or secrecy. She deserved someone who wanted to shout their love from rooftops, not hide it in the shadows.
And now here she was, lying on a bed she'd be sharing tonight with a straight woman who probably had no idea how attractive she was. Also freshly divorced and dealing with the aftermath of a marriage that had imploded when her husband realized he was gay.
A woman who made Ruby's heart do acrobatics every time she smiled.
None of these feelings matter, so stop torturing yourself, Ruby told herself. She’s straight. It’s never going to happen.
But her traitorous heart kept replaying moments from the day. The way Celeste had laughed in the car, unguarded and striking. The way she'd stood so close before going into the bathroom, near enough that Ruby could have reached out and held her.
She sighed out loud and massaged her temples. This was exactly how she got herself into trouble. Reading too much into friendly gestures and seeing possibility where there was only politeness.
The bathroom door opened and Celeste emerged looking slightly more composed.
“I'm starving,” Celeste announced. “Should we eat?”
Ruby sat up, grateful for something concrete to focus on. “Definitely. Noah's pot roast awaits.”
They moved around the small room as they set up dinner. Ruby unpacked the containers while Celeste found plates in the small kitchenette Noah had mentioned, just a hot plate and a microwave tucked behind a screen.
“He said 350 degrees for twenty minutes,” Celeste said, reading from a note Noah had tucked into the bag. “'Low and slow brings out the flavor.' He underlined that three times.”
“The man takes his pot roast seriously.” Ruby transferred the food to an oven-safe dish. “I respect that.”
The food heated, filling the room with rich, savory smells, just before the microwave beeped. They served up the food: tender beef in rich gravy, carrots and potatoes that melted on the tongue. Ruby's stomach growled audibly.
“Some’s hungry.” Celeste had barely spoken the words when her own stomach rumbled also, eliciting a giggled from Ruby. They ate in silence at first, the kind of comfortable quiet that came from indulging in good food. Ruby watched Celeste take her first bite, her eyes widening slightly.
“Okay,” Celeste said. “Noah wasn't exaggerating. This is life-changing.”
“Right? I feel like we should send him a thank-you note.”
“Already planning it mentally.” Celeste speared another piece of beef. “So what do you do these days, in general? I want more specificity. I assumed you'd be some high-flying accountant or consultant by now.”
Ruby laughed, nearly choking on her water. “An accountant? That's the most insulting thing anyone's ever said to me.”
“What? You were brilliant with numbers.”
“Being good at something doesn't mean you want to do it forever.” Ruby wiped her mouth with a napkin, still grinning at the absurdity of it. Her, an accountant. She'd rather stick needles in her eyes. “As I said previously, I’m an artist. I paint and sometimes do mixed media. It can’t get any more specific than that, just as being a lawyer is often about taking on cases.”
“That sounds really impressive.”
“Thank you. The academic overachiever thing came naturally. But art made me feel alive. Still does, when I let it.”
“I never knew that about you.”
“Why would you? We weren’t exactly swapping life dreams in high school.” Ruby leaned back in her chair. “But I always knew you'd be a lawyer. You had that intensity about you. Like you were already building a case in your head for everything.”
A flush rose in Celeste’s cheeks, spreading down her neck. Ruby tracked its progress before forcing herself to look away.
“Well, how's the artist career coming along?”
“I've got a few pieces published,” Ruby lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Sold some work. It's going.”
“That's wonderful. Can I see?”
“See what?”
“Your art. Do you have pictures?”
Ruby hesitated. Showing her art made her feel vulnerable in a way that talking about it didn't. But Celeste was looking at her with true interest, not the detached curiosity people usually had.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled to her portfolio—the work she actually felt proud of, not the half-finished canvases gathering dust in her Chicago apartment. A series of urban landscapes she'd worked on across two years and a series of abstract pieces.
Celeste leaned nearer to see the screen, close enough that Ruby could smell her shampoo again. Close enough that if Ruby shifted even slightly, their shoulders would touch.
She kept very still.
“Ruby, these are incredible.” Celeste looked up in admiration. “I love art and that's partly why I'm going to New Orleans, to see the installations. But this is museum-quality work.”
“You're being generous.”
“I'm being honest.” Celeste scrolled through a few more images. “You have a real gift. The way you capture light and the composition is all so stunning.”
Ruby couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at her work with such uncomplicated appreciation. Unlike Nora, who only saw dollar signs or the gallery owners, who wanted her to paint what would sell.
“Thanks,” she said. “Did you say you were going to New Orleans to appreciate the art? Whatever happened to going simply to have fun?”
Celeste handed the phone back with a shrug. “I had hoped that would happen naturally as a side-effect.”
“A side-effect? When's the last time you did something just for fun?”
“I do fun things.”
“Name three that aren't work or the twins.”
Celeste opened her mouth. Closed it. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and Ruby found the expression endearing. “I... read.”
“Legal briefs don't count.”
“I read other things. Sometimes.”
“This is tragic.” Ruby set down her fork, mock-serious. “Okay. New plan. I'm making it my personal responsibility to ensure you actually unwind and enjoy this festival. We’ll have pure, unadulterated fun.”
“That sounds vaguely threatening.”
“It absolutely is.” Ruby grinned. “Consider yourself warned. By the time we leave New Orleans, you're going to remember what joy feels like.”
Her phone buzzed on the table between them and Nora’s name flashed on the screen.
Celeste glanced at it. “Someone important?”
“Just my agent.” Ruby silenced the phone without looking at it. “She's a bit mercenary about productivity. Keeps pushing me to deliver more quality pieces.”
“That sounds stressful.”
“It's fine. I just need to—” she stopped herself. She didn't want to talk about this. About how she didn’t wish to put her best work out there for the world to see.
“Need to what?”
“Nothing. It's complicated and boring.” Ruby stood, gathering their empty containers with more force than necessary. “We should probably get some sleep. Noah said he'd be here early tomorrow.”
Celeste looked like she wanted to push, but she didn't. Instead, she helped clean up, their movements synchronizing in the small space.
They took turns in the bathroom. Celeste went first, emerging in pajamas that were somehow both modest and attractive—soft cotton pants and a fitted t-shirt that made Ruby's mouth go dry.
She grabbed her own clothes and retreated to the bathroom, taking longer than necessary. She brushed her teeth and washed her face twice, then gave herself a stern talking-to about inappropriate attractions to straight women.
When she came out, Celeste was already in bed and lying on the far edge like she was trying to take up as little space as possible. The lamp on the nightstand cast soft shadows across her face.
Ruby climbed in on the other side, hyperaware of every point where they almost touched. The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, and Celeste shifted minutely away.
“Night,” Ruby said.
“Goodnight.”
Ruby turned off the lamp, plunging them into darkness. She could hear Celeste breathing and feel the warmth radiating from her body despite the careful distance between them. This was going to be a long night.
She lay awake for what felt like hours, listening to Celeste's breathing eventually slow and deepen into sleep.
She had never felt this drawn to someone before. Or maybe she had, and this was just what attraction always felt like—consuming and impossible to ignore. It was intriguing to see the intelligence in Celeste’s eyes and sense that underneath all that control was someone desperate to break free.
Ruby wanted to be the one to help her break free.
But that was unlikely. In addition to being straight, Celeste was also recently divorced and dealing with the aftermath of her marriage ending. She probably wasn’t thinking about romance at all, and definitely not with another woman.
Stop torturing yourself, Ruby thought. Go to sleep.
Eventually, exhaustion won. Ruby drifted off, her dreams full of brown eyes, slow smiles and the ghost of citrus shampoo.
She woke to early morning light filtering through the window and the sound of running water. Celeste was in the shower.
Ruby sat up, running a hand through her sleep-mussed hair. Her phone on the nightstand showed 6:47 AM. Noah would be here soon with his shipment. She needed to get moving, get dressed and stop lying here thinking about the woman she would be spending a couple more days with.
She began undressing, pulling off her sleep shirt and wrapping a towel around herself. She reached into her duffel bag to pick out new clothes for the day and her towel slipped from her body.
The bathroom door opened.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Ruby stood momentarily frozen, wearing only her bra and sleep shorts. Celeste stood in the doorway, wrapped in a towel, her hair wet and dripping onto her shoulders. Their eyes met.
And Ruby saw it—clear as day, unmistakable and electric.
Desire.
It flickered across Celeste's face before she could hide it and her gaze grew heated. She parted her lips slightly, stealing Ruby’s breath. Her eyes dropped, just for a second, traveling over Ruby's exposed skin before snapping back up.
And in that moment, Ruby knew with absolute certainty: Celeste wanted her. As shocking and out-of-the-blue as it was, Ruby had seen that expression before. She knew want when she saw it.
Ruby's breath caught in her throat and her heart hammered against her ribs. Every nerve ending in her body came alive, hyperaware of Celeste's gaze on her skin.
Then reality crashed back in and Celeste's eyes widened, as if she'd just realized what she was doing. What she was revealing.