Claudia smiled. “You came all the way from California, didn’t you?” She waved a hand. “I should have recognized your accent, not to mention your car, your clothes, that movie-star look about you.”
“I’m…” she laughed softly, “not in the movie industry.”
“Come on in. Let me call him.”
She held the door open and waved Rubi forward. “Would you like a can of pop or some sweet tea?”
“No, thank you.” Rubi parted her lips to tell them she couldn’t come in, but hell, she was tired and she didn’t know where she was going. So she climbed the stairs, wondering if Wes had grown up here. Then found herself wondering all about his childhood.
The interior of the home was spacious and open, with big rooms flowing together and vaulted ceilings. The kitchen was as modern as Rubi’s—correction, Dolph’s—with granite counters, stainless steel appliances and light wooden, glass-fronted cabinets. The dining and family rooms, all open to the kitchen, were painted different jewel tones, offset by white ceilings and lots of light through the windows. The floors were wide-planked, light wood. The overall effect was sophisticated yet homey.
Birdie stirred something on the stove, and the scent of spices filled the air. “Can you stay for supper, Missy? I know how you love my corned beef. Wesley’s favorite.”
Wes liked corned beef?
Rubi rubbed her forehead. “Thank you, but I’m just going to—”
Claudia held up a finger to her lips, then into the phone said, “Hey, Wes, it’s Claudia.”
The thought of Wes so close made Rubi’s stomach jump and burn. Made her yearn to fall into his arms. The longing itself made Rubi uncomfortable. She was completely twisted.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Listen, your mama and daddy are still in Kansas City. They’re getting a late start back. Grams is fixing up corned beef. Do y’all think you’ll make it back for supper?” She was quiet a moment. “All right, then. No fuss. Take care now.”
She hung up the portable phone on the kitchen counter. “He’s still at the hospital. Said he wouldn’t be heading back for another hour or two. So you should have just enough time to catch him.”
Armed with Grams’s Special K bars—whatever the hell those were—and a can of “pop” in the form of Coke, Rubi followed Ms. GPS’s directions back to St. Louis and the VA Medical center with a shitload of misgivings. And even by the time she slid her rental—a crisp, white BMW sports coupe—past the front of the hospital’s spinal injury center, she still hadn’t decided whether or not to call him.
But fate decided for her.
As she pulled the car into a parking spot at the front left of the building, she spotted Wes strolling the path leading to the main entrance. And he wasn’t alone. Whoever the woman was had long blonde hair and knew Wes well judging by the minimal distance between them.
Fine. Rubi turned off the car to wait. After Birdie, Rubi wasn’t exactly up for meeting any more of Wes’s family or friends at the moment.
With his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, staring down at the concrete beneath his feet, he looked ridiculously adorable. Rubi found herself wondering if he had baby pictures she could see. The thought made her smile. She soaked in the sight of him in his jeans and long-sleeved tee after not seeing him for three days. The first time they’d been apart in two months. Crazy. Not at all a normal relationship. But then, Rubi didn’t know anything about normal.
She shifted in her seat, restless to surprise him. Her smile widened as she realized how quickly her uncertainty morphed to excitement. All it took was his proximity and her fears seemed to melt.
“Come on…” she murmured, leaning her head sideways to get a better view. “Go home already, blondie. I’m exhausted. And I can’t wait to get my hands on that man.”
“Wesley’s always preferred blondes.”
The comment scraped along Rubi’s nerves. His grandmother was definitely a little off. But Rubi’s mind drifted back to what she knew of his previous girlfriends. Jax and the other Renegades razzed each other about women often enough for Rubi to catch a few details. She knew Kayla had been blonde, but she couldn’t remember if his other girlfriends had been too.
It didn’t matter. Rubi was secure enough with herself to know a hair color didn’t determine attraction. And she also knew if she had to choose a type, blond would not be her top choice, yet she was hot as hellfire for Wes Lawson.
Wes and the blonde woman slowed their pace as they neared the parking lot and continued talking. He laughed at something she said, and she leaned into him.
A trickle of heat coursed down Rubi’s neck. “Don’t…” she barely whispered.
He didn’t pull away but neither did he take his hands from his pockets to touch her. They talked another moment, a span of time that seemed like an eternity to Rubi. Then the blonde made her move—one Rubi had known was coming. That hadn’t surprised her. She lifted her hands to Wes’s shoulders, pushed up on her toes, and kissed him. Not just a peck either. She lingered there.
Rubi’s stomach clenched. And as if she’d been numbed, a dull ache filled her chest. “Don’t…” she begged Wes in a whisper.
He lifted his head and said something, hands still in his pockets as if they’d been glued there. The blonde responded by sliding her hand around his neck and pulling Wes’s mouth down to hers.
Rubi’s breath slid out in a slow exhale of wounded disappointment, but beneath lived that ever-present resignation. She wasn’t right for Wes, and by coming here, she was only prolonging the inevitable.
“Or…he’s really just looking to hook up with you because you’re hot, to tide him over until he finds another one of those sweet girls to settle with again.”
The very reality of Lexi’s words might mean whatever relationship Wes and Rubi had been flirting with was already over. And she’d created this whole goddamned mess.
Tears crept up, blurring her vision. She certainly hadn’t been prepared for this twist. At least not tonight.
Wes’s hands finally pulled from his pockets, slid up the woman’s arms. Still, he didn’t push her away. A rock formed in Rubi’s stomach—not the pain of jealousy, but of loss. And damn but she felt foolish. So fucking foolish. The pain in her stomach spread to her chest and throbbed there.
Rubi closed her eyes and sank back into the seat, weighted like lead. “I’m such a fucking loser.”
The whisper dissipated, and Rubi reached forward, turning the engine over. Without looking at Wes again, she pulled out of the parking spot and exited the lot for the freeway. And the airport.
Twenty-One
Wes froze at the feel of Melissa’s lips on his. The two of them had been getting along great the last two days, like the friends they’d once been. Like no time had passed. He’d settled into the comfort and camaraderie, proud of them both for being able to let the past go.
So this move was completely unexpected.
Time seemed to stand still. Memories flashed back—their first kiss, their first I love yous, their first time making love in the back of his truck. But this kiss didn’t bring back any of those old emotions. Not at all the way he’d once believed it would if he’d ever gotten the chance to kiss her again.
In fact, it felt wrong. All wrong.
Wes added pressure to Melissa’s arms. As badly as he wanted her mouth off his, he didn’t want to jerk her around. To dislodge her, he had to reach up and curl his fingers around hers, prying them loose. Then he was able to pull his head back and break the kiss.
“Missy,” he said, frowning. “What was that?”
She wasn’t at all the kind of woman he wanted. Not now. And looking back, probably not then either. But she’d fit the acceptable model for his family.
She turned her hand in his and threaded their fingers together. “It’s called a kiss. We used to be very good at it.”
She leaned closer, her breasts pressing his chest. Instead of desire, only anxiety and discomfort filled him. Beyond, in the parking lot, tires gave a curt squeal as someone popped a clutch too fast. Wes glanced that direction as a white BMW coupe turned onto the freeway.
“Let’s try it again,” Melissa said. “See if you remember this time.”
She pushed up, but this time, with his hand trapped in hers, he pulled back. “I’m…seeing someone, Missy.”
At least he hoped he was still seeing Rubi. She hadn’t responded to any of his messages since midday yesterday. At least when she was angry, she was still talking. Wes’s biggest fear was that the anger had grown old and she just stopped caring all together. With him gone and her not responding to his calls or texts or even videos, he knew that indifference would happen even faster.
“Oh.” Melissa eased back, a frown turning her lush mouth down. “I…didn’t realize… Wyatt and Whitney said—”
“Wyatt and Whitney don’t know everything.”
“Is she…special?” Melissa asked, a little pouty.
“Very,” Wes said. He had to bite his tongue to keep from apologizing to Melissa. He was not sorry he was in love with Rubi.
She took a step back and released his hand. “All right, then.” She smoothed her hands down the front of her scrub top. “I guess we’ll call this…an old-times’ sake kiss and call it good.”
Wes nodded. Forced a smile. “Sounds good. See you tomorrow.”
“Yep. Good night.”
Wes waited while she climbed into her car, a sensible blue Subaru four-wheel-drive, and backed out of her spot. Then he pulled out his phone and checked for messages from Rubi. Nothing. God, he needed to hear her voice.
He called her number and listened to it ring as he wandered toward his brother’s truck—Wes’s ride for the time he was in town. Her voice mail picked up.
“Rubi Russo.” Her smooth voice came over the line. “Give it to me.”
Beep.
“Hey, baby,” Wes said. “Would really love to hear your voice—even if you’re still pissed. This has been the longest three days of my life.” He unlocked the truck and pulled the door open. “Wyatt’s making amazing progress. He’s working with the rig three times a day and gaining strength faster than he did during the recovery of his first surgery. Doctors are impressed. His surgeon wants to talk with you about your programming. They have a big spine center here, do a lot of surgery.”
He laid a hand on the steering wheel and looked out into the growing darkness with a hole opening inside him. “Anyway…” He paused, not sure how much to say or not say. “I miss you. Keep finding myself looking around to share something…” He stopped himself from getting too sappy. “Okay.” He had to bite his tongue from signing off with I love you. “Talk later.”
He disconnected and climbed into the truck. After he’d turned onto the highway toward home, he dialed the house.
“Hello.”