Chapter 7
Tucker
Ruth rolls her eyes at me for the hundredth time. “That won’t be happening.”
Her tone is serious, but there’s a smile on her face. She seems to finally be relaxing a little, which is good, because she was stiff as a fucking board when she first sat down beside me, looking ready to bolt at any second. Definitely not the way a woman in love with me would act.
Not that I have experience with that, but I’ve seen the way Mariah looks at Titus. I can practically see the hearts in her eyes. Brooke looks at Toby the same way. Like he’s everything to her. The only thing a woman has had in her eyes when she looks at me is lust.
I came into this worried that inexperience would give us away. I don’t have a lot of practice at lying and I assumed I’d struggle when it came to deceiving my family. But it’s really fucking easy to pretend to like Ruth.
I don’t have to worry about her getting the wrong idea or thinking there’s more to this than there is, so I can just be myself. I don’t have to hold back to ensure distance remains between us or watch for any sign she’s catching feelings.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t seem to be having the same experience, and that will be a problem.
“I know you don’t want to get physical with me, but you’ve got to pretend like you do.” I give her my most charming smile. “And I’ll throw in an extra five grand if you also pretend like I’m good at it.”
This time there’s no eye rolling. Ruth starts laughing immediately, her head tipping back to rest against my arm. It’s a genuine reaction. One that would absolutely convince my mother there’s something real between us.
“That was perfect.” I stretch my legs out, relaxing a little more myself. “You should probably laugh at all my jokes like that.”
“Make sure all of your jokes are funny, and I will.” Ruth gives me a little sass, and I swear she leans closer. “I’m not going to hold my breath though.”
I sigh dramatically. “I didn’t know having a girlfriend would be so detrimental to my ego.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of women who would be happy to stroke your ego.” Ruth’s eyes drop for a split second before snapping back to my face. “Along with other parts of you.”
“Probably, but that would defeat the whole purpose of what we’re doing.” I check on Birdie, making sure she’s okay and having fun with her toys before refocusing on Ruth. “A woman like that would think this was an opportunity to show me how great having a relationship with her would be.”
She might even be right. It’s not that I don’t think any of the women in my past would be perfectly great girlfriends. I just don’t want one.
Ever.
“Well, you definitely don’t have to worry about that with me.” Ruth wrinkles her nose. “I think I’m about as interested in having a relationship as you are.”
“See?” I cross my legs at the ankles, feeling better and better about this with each passing second. “We’re the perfect pair.”
“I guess we’ll find out how perfect we really are when I meet your mother.” Ruth nibbles on her lower lip, a little of her unease creeping back in. “When do you expect that will happen?”
She’s not gonna like my answer. But in the spirit of bringing as much truth to this as possible, I lay out the most likely scenario.
“I would love to tell you you’re in the clear until the next family dinner night, but there is a very high likelihood my mother will notice your car parked in my driveway and show up on my doorstep. ”
Ruth’s eyes widen and her skin pales, gaze snapping toward the front of the house like she expects my mother to pop out at any second.
“She won’t show up today, don’t worry. My parents are out of town until Wednesday.” It’s why I took today and tomorrow off. So Ruth can acclimate to being around me in my house without worrying about Deidre Bradshaw making an impromptu visit. “But once she’s back, it could happen at any moment.”
Ruth takes a deep breath, her shoulders lifting and falling on the inhale and exhale. “I guess the sooner she meets me, the better. It will give her more opportunity to think you’re smitten.”
“Smitten? You want me to be smitten?” I’m not sure I can pull that off. I can be flirtatious and affectionate, but smitten is a different level of this game. It’s right up there with enamored and obsessed, and would require me acting like…
Titus and Toby.
So maybe I’ll be fine after all.
“I don’t want you to be anything.” Ruth gives my chest a little poke with one finger. “You want you to appear smitten because it’s what will get your mother off your back.”
I nod, mentally cataloguing everything I’ve seen my brothers say and do. “I think I can make it happen.”
I look over the woman next to me, taking in her dark hair and full lips. Oh yeah. I can make it happen. If I were ever interested in being smitten, Ruth is definitely the kind of woman who would inspire it.
I angle a brow. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be smitten with me too?”
Ruth gives me a slow smile. One I haven’t seen from her before, but do experience on a regular basis. It’s the smile of an interested woman. And for some reason, it shoots straight to my dick, making him perk up for the first time in months.
“What woman wouldn’t be smitten with you?” Her hand comes to my chest, flattening against my sternum as she leans into me. “You are the ultimate catch.”
I’m a little flustered, but only because of the sudden shift in the woman beside me.
I resist the urge to shift in my seat, managing to only fidget a little bit as her fingers tease against the fabric of my shirt.
Clearing my throat, I fight to keep my voice normal as I say, “So obviously you’re pretty capable of pretending to be smitten. ”
The sultry smile leaves Ruth's face, replaced by a more genuine expression. “Yeah? It was good?”
My head bobs in a nod as I will my dick back in line. “Very good.”
Maybe too good, because for a hot second there, I was a little worried all my harmless flirting with Ruth might not be as harmless as I thought it would be.
“Uh-oh.” Birdie’s little voice offers a blessed distraction, dragging my attention from her pretty mother to the section of my great room dedicated to her entertainment.
Ruth is up off the couch in a heartbeat, rushing to where her daughter has accidentally tipped the bubble machine over and is now using her hands to spread the sticky liquid across the wood floor.
I’m laughing as I stand up, the glee the toddler is experiencing clearly contagious.
Although, maybe not universally, because her mother doesn’t look amused. At all.
Ruth actually looks… Panicked.
“I’m so sorry.” She grabs the bubble machine, setting it upright before quickly searching the space around her. “If you get me something to clean this up with, I’ll take care of it.”
“You don’t have to worry about it.” I tip my head toward the toddler now coated in the tacky gel. “Why don’t you clean her up, and I’ll get this.”
Ruth’s eyes come to my face, brows pinching as she blinks up at me like she doesn’t understand what I’m suggesting.
So I elaborate. “There’s a half-bath right next to the kitchen. Use whatever towels you need. If you want to throw her clothes into the washer, let me know.”
Ruth still doesn’t move. Just continues staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.
Since she seems to be struggling for some reason, I go ahead and scoop her daughter up, holding Birdie’s messy form at arm’s length as I walk to the bathroom, hoping Ruth follows.
I’m extra grateful I went ahead and ordered a stepstool for in here, because it makes setting Birdie up at the sink a breeze.
I perch her little feet on the platform, close the safety bar at her back, and switch on the warm water.
She’s clearly a professional hand washer, because I don’t have to give any directions.
Ruth’s toddler immediately has her fingers in the splash zone, enjoying the sink just as much as she did the bubble liquid.
“I can handle this.” Ruth’s voice is quiet. Low and almost hesitant. Very different from how it normally is as she steps in beside me.
I’m not sure if I’ve done something wrong, or if she’s just that upset over a little spilled liquid, but I decide to give her a minute and leave her and Birdie in the bathroom alone.
Grabbing a few towels from the kitchen and a damp rag, I quickly mop up the mess from the floor. It takes a few trips to the sink to rinse out the soapy residue, but soon, my floor’s good as new. Like nothing even happened.
Honestly, it really wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t. It’s not super hard to pop up a few floor boards and replace them. It’s an important lesson I’ve learned. Plenty of things are just that easy to fix. So there’s not much worth getting worked up over.
Especially since I do my best to stay away from the unfixable.
I’m just collecting the towels I used for cleanup when Ruth comes out of the bathroom, a diaper-clad Birdie in her arms. I give her a grin, hoping whatever weirdness she was feeling has passed. “I take it there was no salvaging her clothes?”
“They were pretty wet.” Her nose wrinkles. “And sticky.” She heads for her diaper bag. “I have a plastic freezer bag in here I’m going to put them in so they won’t soak everything before I get home.”
“I’ll just throw them in the washer with the towels. I can run it on a quick wash and have them clean and dried in under an hour.” I go into the bathroom, not waiting for her to give me the okay. Ruth has her hands full with a very busy toddler, and I’m happy to take this task off her hands.
Plus, she’s going to be here anyway, so we might as well multitask.
As promised, Birdie’s shirt and pants are a mess, so I add them to the collection in my arms, and head upstairs.
When I built the place, my mother insisted it made the most sense to have the laundry on the second floor since that’s where most of it would end up.
And she was mostly right. But it would be nice to have somewhere close to the garage to toss my jeans and T-shirt at the end of the day, rather than risk shedding wood shavings and drywall dust all over my house.
After quickly dropping in the load and setting it to run, I scour my room for anything that might come close to fitting the little girl downstairs.
I manage to come up with a random T-shirt I never wear because it’s a little tight, and take it down with me just in case Ruth didn’t bring a change of clothes.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, she’s standing in the kitchen with a bundled up diaper in one hand, looking like she plans to put it in her diaper bag.
Does this woman think she’s going to taint my house?
That a little bubble liquid on the floor and a diaper in the trash is going to be a problem?
Possibly, because I barely manage to stop her before she crams the sodden thing down into a zippered compartment.
“Absolutely not.” I manage to get the surprisingly heavy bundle away, cringing at the warmth still radiating off of it. Didn’t really consider that, but I guess it makes sense.
I quickly open the trash drawer, dropping it inside before holding up the T-shirt I retrieved. “This is the best I currently have to offer.”
Tomorrow I’ll have more options, because I’m going to place another order this afternoon, and it will include some simple clothing items for situations just like this.
It’s also going to have an enclosed bubble machine so we don’t have a repeat of the great bubble debacle.
Not because I care, but because it seems to genuinely be bothering Ruth.
Ruth gives me a small smile, taking the shirt from my hands. “Thanks. I usually bring extras, but I forgot this morning.”
I lean against the counter as she sets Birdie down and works the shirt onto her tiny body. “That’s because you were distracted over how excited you were to see me today.”
After getting the T-shirt on her daughter, Ruth ties a little knot on one side, managing to make the thing almost fit a little.
Sort of.
She straightens as Birdie grabs at the fabric, looking over the emblem for McKinley Security Systems emblazoned on the front. “I don’t know that excited is the word I would use for how I felt this morning.”
“How did you feel?” I’m genuinely curious. Interested to know where she sits on a scale of completely uncomfortable around me, to capable of pretending we're in love.
Ruth pinches her lower lip between her teeth. “Definitely nervous.” Her eyes dart to my face before swinging away. “A little worried I won’t be able to pull this off.”
That has me smiling. “I’ve seen you lie, Ruthless. I don’t have any doubts about your ability to pull this off.”
She scoffs, mouth dropping open. “Did you just call me Ruthless?”
“You tried to convince me we’ve had sex.” I take a step toward her, invading her space just a little. “And that I’m your daughter's father.”
Her lips press together, rolling inward. “I had to. I have to find a way to get the money I need to move.”
She doesn’t apologize, and I don’t need her to. Because it’s actually working out really well for me. I get to practice my uncle skills on her very adorable toddler, and I’m not going to have to worry about my mother trying to push me into something I don’t want.
Plus, Ruth is turning out to be surprisingly easy to be around. There’s no pressure. No expectations. No worries.
“I understand.” I look over her face, watching her expression, trying to see more than she’s willing to say. “I am a little surprised I was your best option.”
Her brows lift. “Really? You’re kind of an amazing option on paper.”
“How is that?” I am interested to know how she decided I was the man to extort. Just out of curiosity.
“I figured the odds of you having a kid out there somewhere were pretty high given your extracurricular activities.” She lifts one shoulder, letting it drop. “And I figured there’s no way you remember every single woman who’s been a part of those extra curricular activities.”
It is probably a fair assumption—also a little offensive—but it is incorrect. For a number of reasons. And even if I didn’t remember every single woman I’ve been lucky enough to spend time with, there still would have been one other giant flaw in Ruth’s plan.
I move a little closer, testing her with a brush of my body against hers as I say, “I think you underestimate how very memorable you are.”