Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Ruby

“I’m sorry,” I say as we lie side by side on my bed in the dark. My heart is pounding, but it’s not from fear. Yes, I was afraid to sleep alone in my bedroom knowing there was a hole in the window. But it’s not fear that’s making my pulse run away now. It’s the knowledge that Miguel is in my bed. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I can’t help it. He’s a real-life knight in shining armor. I’ve never met anyone like him before. And he’s in my bed!

“You don’t need to apologize to me, Ruby,” he says quietly. Miguel reaches over blindly in the dark and takes my hand, linking our fingers together. “Not ever.”

I’m certain he’s going to make some comment about just doing his job, but he doesn’t, and I’m glad. He makes me feel safe, and that’s something I haven’t felt in years. I’d hate for him to trivialize it by saying he’s just doing his job. I know it’s his job, but for a little while I want to forget that and just enjoy his company.

“I’m sure there are other things you’d rather be doing,” I say, unable to stop myself from stating the obvious. It’s true. I know it is. I may have my share of problems, but I’m not delusional. I’m not going to kid myself into thinking he’s here with me because he wants to be. He’s being paid to protect me.

“Nope,” he says lightly as he rubs his thumb along mine. “There’s nowhere else I want to be right now.”

My chest tightens, and I feel tears pricking at my eyes. I close my lids tightly to stave off tears. I’m not going to ruin the moment by crying. “Thank you, for being here. For staying even after my dad was so rude to you. I’m grateful.”

He squeezes my hand. “You don’t need to thank me either. The door is locked, the security system is set, and you’re safe, I promise. Just relax and try to sleep.”

“Okay.” I turn my face to him, but it’s too dark for me to even see his profile. “Goodnight, Miguel.”

He releases my hand. “Goodnight, Ruby.”

I close my eyes and attempt to will myself to sleep, but no such luck. I’m far too aware of Miguel and the fact there’s a man in my bed. Pumpkin has no such qualms. He jumps up on the bed with a chirp and nestles in between us, purring contentedly. I, on the other hand, am feeling way too self-conscious to relax.

What if I snore?

What if I talk in my sleep?

I close my eyes and pretend I’m asleep. Before long, I hear Miguel’s deep, even breathing. It sounds nice. I turn over, facing away from him, and start counting sheep.

* * *

When I wake the next morning, Miguel is still asleep. He’s lying on his back, and I’m pressed up against his side, my arm slung over his waist. My pulse starts tripping.

Ohmygod.

I freeze, hoping not to wake him.

This is so wrong, so inappropriate. And yet, I don’t want it to end. I could lie here with him like this forever, just the two of us. I realize the drapes are open slightly, just enough to let in a bit of morning sunlight.

I steal a moment to study his profile, his warm golden brown skin, his dark dark hair, black as night, the dark slash of his eyebrow, the line of his nose. His lips are relaxed in sleep, framed perfectly by his trim beard and mustache. He says he doesn’t have a girlfriend, or anyone special, but if he did, I’d be so jealous.

He stirs, moaning softly as his chest rises on a deep breath. Then, to my utter shock, his left hand comes up and covers my hand. I know it’s just a reflex, because he’s still half-asleep.

He inhales deeply, then yawns. “Good morning,” he says, his voice rough from sleep.

I attempt to pull my arm back, but he catches my hand for a split second, then abruptly lets it go.

He turns on his side to face me. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, thanks to you.”

Pumpkin jumps up on the bed, purring like a motorboat, and walks across Miguel’s abdomen.

“Pumpkin, get off,” I say, laughing as I push the cat off him.

“It’s okay.” Miguel laughs. “I grew up with a house full of pets.” He reaches out to scratch Pumpkin’s chin.

I slide off the foot of the bed.

Miguel sits up and surveys the floor. “Careful. Watch for broken glass.” He watches me make my way carefully to the door. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Pretty much the same as every day. Some painting, a little bit of reading, and maybe watch a movie. How about you?”

He smiles. “Pretty much the same. I do what you do, minus the painting part, and add in some exercise.”

When I come out of the bathroom, I see him across the hall, sitting on the edge of my bed petting Pumpkin. “The bathroom’s all yours,” I say.

Then I get dressed in my bedroom. My gaze lands on the broken pane of glass, reminding me that I need to call Rick to tell him about the window. I hope he can fix it soon. Oh, great, another person in my apartment.

I’m in the kitchen making coffee when Miguel walks into the living room and grabs a change of clothes from his duffle bag.

“I need to do laundry today,” he says. “I’m about out of clean clothes.”

I point to the small utility closet next to the kitchen. “The washer’s all yours. You know, you can hang up your clothes in my closet if you want, so they don’t wrinkle.”

“Thanks. That’d be great.” He folds the bedding left on the sofa from last night and puts it away in the linen cupboard. “Can I ask a favor?”

I pour us each a cup of coffee. “Of course. Anything.”

“Would you mind if I ask a friend to bring over a few things from my apartment? Namely my free weights.”

My pulse skips a beat at the mention of someone coming over. But I can hardly say no after everything Miguel’s done for me. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I’ll give him a call and see if they’re available this afternoon.”

“They?”

“Jason and his girlfriend, Layla. I’m sure he’ll want to bring her along. They’re pretty inseparable. It’s okay if he brings Layla with him?”

I nod. “Sure. How about French toast for breakfast?” I ask. “With all the fixin’s—syrup, cinnamon, and whipped cream.” I smile at the memory. “My mom made this for me for Sunday breakfast.”

“That sounds perfect,” he says as he grabs his phone and types in a text message. “Remind me to make you some cinnamon oatmeal sometime. That’s what I loved as a kid.”

A moment later, his phone chimes with a return message. “Perfect. Jason and Layla will come over this afternoon and bring me a few dumbbells.”

My heart slams into my ribs. Two people. Two more strangers.

“Ruby? Is everything okay?”

I nod as I start gathering the ingredients to make breakfast. “Yes, fine.”

“Can I help?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” I point to his mug on the counter. “Your coffee’s ready. Grab it while it’s hot.”

A moment later he’s standing beside me, his presence looming. I can actually feel the heat from his body radiating in my direction. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Are you worried about Jason and Layla coming over? I can ask Jason to leave the dumbbells downstairs in the lobby. They don’t have to come up.”

“No, it’s okay if they come up. Really, it’s fine.” It’s not, but I don’t want to begrudge him seeing his friends.

“Are you sure? I promise you they won’t be offended if I ask them not to come up.”

I start cracking eggs into a bowl. “I’m sure.”

He leans closer, his firm bicep pressing against my shoulder. “I think you’ll like really Layla,” he says in a quiet voice. “You two have a lot in common.”

That certainly piques my curiosity. “Like what?”

“Let’s just say, you both have dealt with trauma. Who knows? Maybe you two could become friends.”

He’s still leaning close, and I think I must be imagining it when I feel his breath ruffle my hair. “We can never have too many friends.”

A shiver travels down my spine. The realization that I’m already so used to having him here scares me. But what scares me most is how I’ll handle his absence when he leaves. Because he’s going to leave eventually. And then I’ll be alone once more.

After we finish breakfast, I call the office to let Rick know about the broken window. As expected, he’s not happy about the news.

“Fine,” he says. “I probably have some panes of glass lying around in storage I can use to replace the broken one. I’ll be up in a little bit to fix it.”

An hour later, there’s a knock at the door. Miguel answers it, opening the door to let Rick in. He’s got tools and a pane of glass with him.

“Which window?” he asks. He sounds irritated.

“The first bedroom,” I say, pointing. “Someone threw a rock through my window last night.”

Rick glances at Miguel. “Where were you when this happened?”

“Right here in the apartment,” Miguel says. “Why? You think I did it?”

Rick grunts as he heads to my bedroom. “Wouldn’t put it past you,” he mumbles.

Miguel and I watch from the bedroom doorway as Rick replaces the broken pane and reseals it.

When he’s done, he gathers up his tools and the broken pane, then brushes past us on his way to the door.

“Thank you!” I call after him as he lets himself out.

He closes my door without a word.

“Wow, he’s a real charmer, isn’t he?” Miguel asks as he locks the door.

I choke back laughter. I can’t remember ever laughing in this apartment before Miguel arrived.

* * *

Late Sunday afternoon, as we’re both relaxing on the sofa, me with a book, Miguel on his laptop, there’s a knock on my door. Miguel gets up to see who’s there. “They’re here,” he says. He glances back at me before he starts on the deadbolts.

The door opens and in walks a stunningly beautiful girl about my age, with long silky black hair pulled up in a high ponytail and beautiful dark eyes lined with kohl. She’s dressed in distressed denim shorts, white sneakers, and a burgundy University of Chicago hoodie.

When she sees me, she removes a pair of wireless earbuds from her ears and tucks them into her hoodie’s front pocket. “Hi.” She smiles hesitantly. “You must be Ruby.”

Standing, I nod. “Yes. Hi.”

Right behind her is a man carrying a pair of dumbbells. He’s dark haired too, with a trim beard. He’s wearing jeans, boots, and a form-fitting black T-shirt. “Where do you want these?” he asks Miguel.

“Over there is fine,” Miguel says, pointing to a corner of the living room, beside the TV.

The new guy sets a pair of the biggest dumbbells I’ve ever seen on the floor, then turns to me.

“This is Jason Miller,” Miguel tells me. “And his girlfriend, Layla Alexander. Guys, this is Ruby Foster, my client.”

“Nice to meet you, Ruby,” Jason says. Then he looks to Miguel. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got one more trip to make.”

Miguel nods. “Thanks. Do you need help?”

Jason waves him off. “No, I could use the cardio.” He chuckles, then kisses Layla on the cheek. “Be right back, babe.”

She nods and watches him walk out the door.

“Would you like to sit down?” I ask Layla, motioning to the sofa.

Layla sits. “Thanks.”

“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea, or a soft drink?”

“Water would be great,” she says. She sits with her hands clasped in her lap. She seems nervous.

“Still or sparkling?” I ask.

“Still,” she says.

“I’ll get it,” Miguel says as he heads for the kitchen.

I sit again. A moment later, Miguel returns with a glass of chilled water for Layla.

“Thanks,” she says before she takes a sip, then sets her glass down on a coaster on the coffee table.

Pumpkin appears out of nowhere and jumps up onto the coffee table, almost knocking her glass over. She grabs it up before there’s a spill.

I scoop Pumpkin up and set him on my lap. “Sorry about that. This guy has no manners at all. You’re not allergic to cats, are you? If he’s bothering you, I can—”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. He just startled me, that’s all. I like cats.” She reaches out to scratch Pumpkin behind his ears, and he leans into her touch, purring loudly.

Pumpkin takes the attention as an invitation and walks across my lap and over to hers.

Layla laughs when he rubs his head against her hand, begging for more scratches. “Aren’t you a cutie?” she asks as he strokes Pumpkin’s back. He arches his body, pressing closer to her.

“He likes you,” I say.

Layla grins at me. “The feeling is mutual.”

Jason returns with a plastic crate filled with two pairs of dumbbells, both smaller than the first set. He sets these weights down beside the others. “There you go,” he says to Miguel. Then his gaze immediately goes to Layla. “Everything all right?” he asks her.

Layla laughs as Pumpkin brushes his head against her chin. “I think I made a new friend.”

Jason smiles as he watches Layla interacting with Pumpkin.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Miguel asks his friend.

“Water would be great,” Jason says. “Whatever Layla’s having.”

It’s nearing dinner time, so I invite Jason and Layla to stay and eat with us. We end up ordering take-out from a local Turkish restaurant. While we wait for the food to be delivered, we play a few hands of Uno at the kitchen table.

Several times during the game, Layla seems to lose her focus, her attention drifting off. At one point, she’s staring across the room, completely lost in thought. The room grows quiet as we wait for her to take her turn.

Eventually, Jason lays his hand on her shoulder. “Layla, sweetheart?”

She flinches as she turns to face him. “What?”

“It’s your turn, babe,” he says quietly.

Layla’s gaze flashes to me across the table, and for a moment she looks disoriented, as if she forgot where she was. “I’m so sorry,” she says, looking visibly embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. I have the feeling I’m missing something here.

“Do you want your earbuds?” Jason asks her.

She looks unsure. “Do you mind?” she asks me.

“Of course not. Go ahead.” Now I’m really confused.

Layla fishes her earbuds out of her hoodie pocket, pops them in her ears, and fiddles a moment with her phone. I get the feeling she’s selecting a playlist to listen to. She glances at me. “Thanks. They help me concentrate.”

“No problem.” When I smile at her, she smiles back, seemingly relieved.

Despite her attention being split in multiple directions, Layla wins the first game hands down. Miguel wins the second game.

Just as we finish the second game, our food arrives, and we spread our feast out on the table. We ordered an assortment of kebabs, roasted vegetables, and rice. The food smells divine.

Miguel and I raid the kitchen for plates and silverware. I happen to glance over at the table to see Jason and Layla deep in quiet conversation. I watch as he reaches out and gently caresses her cheek. Nodding, she closes her eyes and leans into his touch. My chest tightens as I watch them expressing their obvious affection for each other.

Dinner is very enjoyable. Jason and Layla are fun, easy-going people. I notice Layla’s attention drifting off several times during the meal, and each time, Jason gently guides her back to the conversation.

“I like your friends,” I tell Miguel later that evening, after they’ve gone and we’re hanging out in the living room. I’m sitting on the sofa with my book in my hands, watching Miguel pick up the smallest of the three pairs of dumbbells that Jason brought over. He curls his left arm, then lowers it. Then he does the same with his right arm.

“How much do those weigh?” I ask.

“These are just ten pounds each. They’re good for warming up.”

I whistle. “I doubt I could lift ten pounds with just one hand.”

He laughs, and I watch his biceps bunch and flex as he raises and lowers the weights. He’s changed into a black, sleeveless T-shirt that gives me an unrestricted view of his muscles.

After he does a number of reps, as he calls them, with the ten pound weights, he trades them in for a bigger set.

“How much do those weigh?” I ask.

“These are twenty pounds each, and the other pair are thirty pounds each.”

While he goes through his reps, I get ready for bed and change into my nightgown. When I’m out of the bathroom, he goes in to get ready for bed.

“Let’s hope we have a quiet night tonight,” he says as he comes out of the bathroom. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else. Bare chest.

I look away so I don’t get caught ogling him.

“Hey, speaking of tonight,” he says, “do you want me to sleep in your bed again?”

I feel my face heating as I nod. “If you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

While I turn off all the lights, Miguel checks the door locks and turns on the security system. It’s nearly midnight when we finally head to bed.

I climb into bed on my side. He turns off the bedroom light and slips into bed on his side. “Sleep well,” he says as he gets comfortable on his back. His low voice sends a shiver down my spine.

“Same to you,” I say. After I pop melatonin into my mouth, I turn onto my side, facing away from him, and more importantly away from temptation. It’s hard enough for me to fall asleep at the best of times, but when there’s a man I find very attractive in bed with me, it seems like a Herculean feat.

I close my eyes and desperately start counting sheep again.