Chapter 23
Tucker
After Ruth leaves with Trevor for the second time, the rest of my day goes to shit. I manage to get the project I’m finishing up disassembled and loaded up into the back of my truck, but I barely have the tailgate closed before I see one of my drywallers racing to his car.
He speeds from the parking lot so fast I’m pretty fucking concerned.
I let myself back into the building, and find the floor foreman. “Is everything okay with Hildebrandt?”
The foreman sighs loudly. “Daycare called. Said his kid’s projectile vomiting all over the place, and that he needed to come get them.” He shakes his head. “I feel bad for the kid, but we’ve got a room that needs to be sanded and prepped for paint.”
I look over the team scattered around the space, trying to come up with a plan. “Is anyone finished early who could knock that out real quick before they leave for the day?”
The foreman snorts. “No. Everybody’s got more than they can handle as it is.”
I hate what I’m about to say, but it’s the only option. “I’ll take care of it.”
Sanding drywall is my least favorite activity. I fucking despise it. But it’s gotta be done. Especially since our drywalled units are on the higher end of our cost spectrum. People willing to shell out that kind of expense generally don’t like to be kept waiting.
It’s already late in the afternoon, so I know there’s no way I’m going to be finished at my normal time. Before I get to work making a fucking mess of myself, I text Ruth, letting her know what’s going on and that if she’d like to leave when Trevor does, I’ll meet her at home later.
Thankfully, my mother has already left with Birdie, deciding they would both be happier and more comfortable at home.
She’s not wrong, but I was a little surprised Ruth was comfortable letting them go.
Not because my mother isn’t amazing, but because Ruth hasn’t had Birdie out of her sight for more than a few minutes since she was born.
Letting a relative stranger drive off with her toddler has got to be at least a little stressful.
Even if that relative stranger is Deidre Bradshaw.
Ruth texts me back right away, and I scowl at the screen. Yes, I’m the one who gave her the idea of letting Trevor take her home. But thinking about my brother being alone with her in a car after spending the entire day alone with her? That feels like a really bad idea.
Trevor isn’t as charming or funny as I am, but I’m not na?ve enough to believe there’s no allure to a man in a well cut suit. Especially when that man has a perfectly decorated house, constantly clean fingernails, and isn’t about to be covered from head to toe in drywall dust.
But I don’t have an option. This job has to be done, and Ruth needs to go home at a reasonable hour, so I get to work.
Staying as focused as I’m capable of, I somehow manage to finish the project without too much dillydallying.
Everyone else is gone by the time I’m done, so I quickly vacuum up the mess collected on the floor, giving my body and clothes a good shake to knock off as much debris as I can before heading for my truck.
I look down and cringe at my still very dusty form.
I’m still going to make a mess of the seat, but I’m too tired and grimy to care.
Being careful not to spread my filth any more than absolutely necessary, I drive home, fighting the urge to scratch at my dehydrated skin.
I need a shower. Followed by a bath. The combination is the only way I’ve found to get my skin back to normal after all the hydration has been leached out of it.
Pulling into the garage, I take off my boots and peel away my powder-covered clothes, leaving them in a pile I’ll retrieve later, before stepping inside.
It’s a process I’ve completed more times than I can count, so I move through it without having to think about it.
Which is a mistake. Because not thinking about it leads to me walking right into the kitchen wearing nothing but my underwear.
Ruth is standing at the counter, her wide blue eyes locked on my almost naked form.
I freeze—the realization that Birdie is likely running around here hitting me way too late—and bring one hand to block the bulge of my dick.
I know she’s young enough it probably won’t register, but it still feels fucking inappropriate as hell.
I look from one side to the other, listening for any indication of where Ruth’s daughter might be.
“Birdie is still at your mom’s.” Ruth accurately guesses what I’m thinking. “They were apparently having so much fun that neither of them was quite ready to call it a day.”
Ruth isn’t an easy person to read, but I feel like I’m getting better at it. Usually. Tonight I’m either too tired from sanding or too wrung out from getting upset this afternoon to decipher the expression on her face.
“Do you want me to call and make her bring Birdie back now?” I don’t want Ruth to feel obligated to go along with whatever my mother requests.
Technically, we have a deal, but it doesn’t include Deidre Bradshaw getting everything she wants.
“Or if you give me just a second to shower off, we can go get her.”
“Actually…” Ruth’s brows pinch. “It’s been kind of nice to have just a few minutes to myself.” Her lips tip into a frown. “Is that bad of me to say?”
“No. You deserve time to yourself.” I groan inwardly, because here I am, fucking it up.
I back toward the stairs, moving slowly.
“I’m gonna go clean up so you can get back to it.
” I nearly stumble when my heel hits the bottom step.
Somehow it snuck up on me, which just goes to show how distracted I am.
I’ve lived in this house for years, and not once have I tripped over any part of it.
Probably because I built a good portion of it with my own two hands.
But seeing Ruth standing in my kitchen, looking like she belongs there just as much as the sink or stove, has thrown me off a little bit. I’ve never had anyone to come home to—by my own choice—and for some reason, I’m struggling to pull my eyes away from the sight.
After nearly falling on my ass a second time as I try to go up backwards, not wanting to take my eyes off Ruth, I’m finally forced to turn so I can see what I'm doing.
I take the steps two at a time, quickly pushing into my room as I go straight for the bathroom. Hopefully a hot shower will serve as a reset. Put my head back on straight after a confusing and stressful day.
After shedding the only article of clothing remaining on my body, I drop it into the hamper, climb under the spray, and start scrubbing. I feel a little better once I’m clean, but the tightness of my skin and scalp is itchy and uncomfortable as hell.
As planned, I run a hot bath, dropping in a moisturizing bath bomb.
Those have been the most successful at curing this condition, and I challenge anyone to give me shit about them.
Sinking into the water, I lean back to rest my head and shoulders against the ledge.
It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve soaked in a tub, and I forgot how nice it is.
Nice enough, I must accidentally fall asleep.
The next thing I know, I’m jerking awake at an unexpected sound, water sloshing as I try to make sense of what’s in front of me.
Because what’s in front of me is Ruth. She’s standing in my bathroom, chest heaving, eyes wide and wild.
“What’s wrong?” I push myself out of the water, getting to my feet as fast as I can, prepared to deal with whatever has her looking so terrified.
But the fear on Ruth’s face quickly shifts, morphing into something else entirely.
Her eyes widen even more as they slide over my slick skin. “You’re naked.” Her words are breathy. Soft.
I look down, confirming she is in fact correct. She’s also looking directly at my cock, which, up until I noticed her very rapt attention, was behaving itself. But the second her eyes on me register, the bastard twitches, perking up at a rate I haven’t experienced since I was a teenager.
Ruth continues staring, and I’m frozen in place, uncertain what the fuck I’m supposed to do. Her tempting self is between me and the towels, so the only way I can cover-up is to move closer to her.
And that is definitely not a good idea.
It’s not until my dick is almost fully hard that Ruth finally spins, turning around to face the open door. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised.”
That makes two of us. But I feel like mine is slightly more warranted. “You were surprised to walk in while I was taking a bath and find me naked?”
Ruth scoffs. “I didn’t know you were taking a bath. You weren’t making any noise.” She almost sounds angry with me now. “I thought you were hurt or something. I came to tell you dinner was ready, and when you didn’t respond, I started to get a little freaked out.”
I bring a hand to my chest, rubbing at the ache there. It's not unpleasant, but it is unusual. “You made me dinner?”
“Well…” Ruth turns to peek my way, eyes once again locking on my dick before she quickly averts her gaze. “Yes, I made dinner. And why are you still naked?”
“That was awful nice of you, and because you’re blocking the towels.” I move closer to where she stands, lowering my voice. “If you want me to stay naked, all you have to do is say so.”
The sound she makes is adorable. A mix of outrage and embarrassment as she rips one of the plush terrycloth towels off the rod and tosses it over a shoulder in my general direction. “I didn’t know I was blocking the towels. I’ve never been in this room before.”
“You’re welcome to come in here anytime you want, Ruthless.” Wrapping the towel around my waist to confine the part of me eager for more of Ruth’s attention, I risk stepping even closer. “Especially when I’m naked in the tub.”
I’ve never taken a bath with a woman. Now that I think about it, my interactions with women have been limited to a pretty small group of acts. I’ve never gone out to dinner with a woman. Never cuddled on the couch to watch television. Never kept one in my bed after the sun came up.
But Ruth is leaving in a couple weeks, so I feel safe crossing a few of those boundaries with her. It might be the only way I ever experience what it’s like to be in love. Have someone love me back.
Ruth peeks over her shoulder at me again, looking a little relieved when she sees the towel at my waist. Her eyes still linger on the area as she slowly turns to face me. “Are you naked in the tub often?”
One side of my mouth curves up. “I can be.”
Ruth rolls her eyes, huffing out a breath. “You need to get dressed. At least put some pants on.” She motions in the general direction of my crotch. “Get that monster under wraps.”
“Monster?” I grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Ruthless.”
“Oh my God.” She brings both hands to her head. “I cannot with you right now.” The smile on her face belies the anger she’s trying to fake. “Just get dressed and come eat.”
I watch as Ruth leaves my room, her steps quick.
My chest puffs when she sneaks a peek back at me before reaching the hall. I think Ruthless might have been a little impressed with what she just witnessed. It makes me want to push the envelope. Just a little. See where it gets me. I like seeing her flushed and flustered. Out of sorts.
I like knowing I’m the one who does it to her.
So instead of getting fully dressed, I trade my towel for a pair of gray sweatpants. Skipping a shirt and boxers since it’s just me and her, I rub the towel over my hair before making my way down to the first floor to find Ruth serving up pasta.
“I hope you don’t mind that I dug through your fridge and cabinets.” She twists her lips, looking uncertain. “It was just getting late, and I was starting to get hungry and figured you would be hungry when you got home too—”
“I told you, you’re more than welcome to use anything in this house any way you see fit.” I come to stand next to her, invading her space just a little. “Remember?”
She bobs her head in a nod, eyes flicking to my bare chest as she rasps out, “I remember.” After adding a piece of garlic bread to each plate, she steps around me, carrying our dinner to the breakfast room.
“I just don’t want you to feel like I’m taking everything over.
” Her eyes dip as she peeks my way again, this time in the direction of my lower half.
“I’ve been told I have a tendency to be bossy and controlling. ”
I don’t know that I would use those two words to describe Ruth, but I can see how an insecure man might. “By who?”
She sets her plates down, brushing my question off with a lift of her shoulder. “No one who matters.”
He obviously does matter, or she wouldn’t be repeating what he accused, but I’m not going to push the matter. Not tonight.
Pulling out a chair, I tip my head at her. “Sit.”
“I’ll sit just as soon as I get us drinks.” She starts to turn, fully believing I’m going to let her serve me.
I manage to catch her around the waist, my hand spanning across her belly as I pull her back against my front. Leaning into her ear, I keep my voice low when I say, “You made dinner. Sit and enjoy it while it’s hot.”
I don’t generally go around telling people what to do—not even my staff.
That’s what I have a foreman for. And if Ruth really wanted to get us drinks, she could.
But that’s not what she wants. She wants to eat a hot meal without a toddler stealing half of it, and I’m going to make sure that happens.
But Ruth doesn’t make any move to sit down. It’s almost like she’s frozen, her body completely still where it’s pressed against mine.
I inhale deeply against her dark hair, breathing the scent of her into my lungs. “Thank you for dinner.” I swallow hard before forcing out. “And for this afternoon.”
I don’t know what would have happened if she wasn’t there. I’ve never freaked out like that in front of other people, and I can’t imagine my foreman would have handled the situation nearly as well as she did.
Plus, I wouldn’t have enjoyed having him cuddled on my lap nearly as much.
“You’re welcome.” She leans back, giving me just a little of her weight. “Thank you for letting me work with Trevor.”
“Ruthless, you are allowed to do whatever you want, whenever you want to do it. There is no me letting you do anything.” I don’t like the way she phrased that. What it insinuates. “I just want you to be happy.”
And while I can think of at least ten very fun ways I could make her happy right now, I keep them to myself. I don’t know when my mother is coming back, and I won’t have her eating cold spaghetti while Birdie tries to systematically dismantle my house.
So, even though there’s nothing more I want than to show Ruth how much I appreciate all she’s done for me today, I urge her into a chair. After turning away, I adjust my once again rock solid cock as I go back into the kitchen to grab us a couple bottles of water.
I should probably also grab one to shove down my pants to take the edge off.