Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Ruby

When I wake up the next morning, I see that Miguel’s side of the bed is empty. I lay my hand on the sheet where he slept and find it cold. The memory of him kissing me last night returns with a rush, and I’m both thrilled and mortified.

He kissed me!

My face heats up as a wave of dizziness washes through me. Surely he didn’t mean to. Why would he? I’m a mess. A neurotic, agoraphobic, paranoid mess. I live like a hermit, shut away from the rest of the world. From life. The only time I see the light of day is when I look out my windows.

I climb out of bed and pull my robe on over my nightgown. Then I sneak across the hall to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. I hear sounds coming from the living room—Miguel huffing, breathing hard, grunting. He must be lifting weights. After brushing the tangles from my hair and putting it up in a pony tail, I leave the bathroom and head to the kitchen.

Sure enough, Miguel is lifting dumbbells, alternating arm curls, his biceps bunching and flexing.

“Good morning,” he says breathlessly as I pass by.

I glance back at him, forcing a smile on my face. “Good morning.” Then I get a glimpse of his face—at his black eye, the swollen cut on his cheek, and his swollen lower lip. He got hurt last night because of me, and I feel awful. “How’s your face? Does it hurt much?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, brushing off my concern. He lowers both dumbbells to the floor, then straightens and put his hands on his hips as he tries to catch his breath. He’s dressed in a pair of black shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt which is all very distracting.

I continue to the kitchen where I put on a pot of coffee. “Would you like some coffee?”

He nods as he leans down to grab the dumbbells again. “Yes, please.” Then he grimaces as he resumes lifting.

I wonder if he’s sore from last night. I try not to stare as I go about making coffee—try and fail miserably. My gaze keeps going to his mouth, and I remember the feel of his lips on mine. I can’t imagine anyone better to share my first kiss with.

While the coffeemaker is doing its thing, I go get dressed—jeans and a T-shirt. When I return from my bedroom, there’s a knock at the door. I freeze. No one should be knocking at my door at this early hour.

Miguel sets his weights down and goes to look out the peephole. “It’s Darren.”

The hint of disgust in his tone makes me smile. Still, I’m surprised Darren is here. “He should be at work already.” I nudge Miguel out of the way and open the door. Darren’s dressed for work in a navy-blue suit, white dress shirt, and a blue-and-white striped tie. He looks flustered.

“Darren, what’s wrong?”

He looks over my shoulder, and I can only assume that Miguel’s standing behind me. “He’s what’s wrong?” Darren asks with a scowl. “What happened last night, Ruby? What was all that commotion out in the parking lot?”

“Miguel’s car alarm went off. When he went out to turn it off, he was jumped by two men.”

Darren scowls at Miguel, then turns his attention back to me. “He needs to go,” he says in a rushed whisper. “He’s trouble, Ruby. He’s not good for you. Just look at him. He’s little more than a thug.” He checks his watch. “I have to go to work. But trust me, Ruby, you need to get rid of him. Today. Just tell him to leave.”

“You need to leave,” Miguel says from behind me. His voice is deep, rough.

Darren narrows his eyes at Miguel, then looks at me one last time before he turns and heads for the stairwell.

I close the door and lock it.

“Don’t you think he seems a bit fixated on you?” Miguel asks as he returns to his weights.

“You still consider Darren to be a suspect.”

He nods. “I do. His interest in you seems a bit more than just neighborly. He’s jealous.”

I turn to face him. “Jealous? Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious. I think he sees me as moving in on his territory.”

“That’s utterly ridiculous.” I can’t help smiling at the notion. I wouldn’t mind being Miguel’s territory. “First, there’s absolutely nothing between me and Darren. We’re simply neighbors. And second, please. As if you would be interested in someone like me.” I laugh at the thought, but Miguel doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Why wouldn’t I be interested in someone like you?” He almost sounds offended. When he says this with a straight face, my heart starts racing.

He can’t be serious. I nod toward the kitchen. “I’ll start on breakfast.”

Miguel lowers the weights. “I’ll do it. You made breakfast yesterday.”

“No, it’s okay. I need something to do. You’ve already done so much for me.”

Between that unexpected kiss last night, and Darren showing up this morning, my mind is frazzled.

“I’ll just make scrambled eggs and toast,” I say. “Something easy.”

“All right. That sounds good.”

I jump when I realize he’s right behind me. I didn’t even hear him approach.

“Ruby?”

“Hmm?” I glance out the kitchen window at the park.

“I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Please, don’t mention it. It’s fine. There’s nothing to apologize for. Let’s just forget it happened.” I’m so embarrassed I can’t even bring myself to look at him. “It was just as much my fault anyway. I kissed you first.”

“On the cheek,” he clarifies. “You were just being nice. I took it as an invitation. I was wrong.”

“Please, Miguel. Can we not talk about this?”

He hesitates, then exhales a heavy breath. “Sure. Okay.” He stands there a moment, as if he’s going to say more. But then he changes the subject. “I’ll take out the trash. The can’s pretty full.” He pulls the bag out of the trash can and ties it off. “I’ll grab your mail, too, while I’m out.”

I nod. “Thanks. Wait! I have several paintings packaged up and ready to mail. You can put them in the outgoing mail cubby? I’ll go get them.” I run off to my studio to collect the small packages ready to go.

After I hand the packages to Miguel, I follow him to the door so I can lock up after he’s gone. I wait by the door for him to return, watching out the peephole. When I see him approaching, I unlock the door and open it.

He doesn’t look happy. When I reach for my mail, he pulls it back out of reach.

“What is it?” I ask. Obviously, something’s wrong.

“There was a note in your mailbox. Something printed off a computer.”

I hold out my hand. “Let me see it.”

Miguel hands me a sheet of paper folded in thirds. I open it up to see these lines:

GET RID OF HIM.

YOUR MINE.

“He spelled you’re wrong,” Miguel observes.

I smile. “Seriously? You’re correcting my stalker’s grammar?”

He shrugs. “I guess so.”

“Now do you believe me about the notes?”

“Yes.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” I say.

“What?” he asks.

“That Darren did it.”

“He certainly could have. So could Rick. Honestly, anyone could have. There’s something else,” he says, as he hands me a business envelope. “Who is Craig T. Martin, Esq?”

I immediately relax. “Oh, that’s fine. He’s my attorney.”

“The envelope says estate planning. Why is an estate planning attorney writing to you?”

“Because he manages my trust fund.”

“What trust fund?”

“My mom left all of her financial assets to me in a trust fund. I’ll have access to the money when I turn twenty-five.”

“And when is that?”

“In two months.”

“How much is your trust fund worth?”

“Five hundred million dollars.”

His eyes widen. “Holy shit! And you’re just now telling me this?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“What about your dad?”

“What about him?”

“You said your mom left all of her financial assets to you. She didn’t leave anything in her will for your dad?”

I shake my head. “No. They really weren’t getting along at the time. And besides, my dad is wealthy in his own right. I guess she figured he didn’t need anything from her.”

Miguel looks pensive, and I can just see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to make sense of it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you. I just don’t think about it often. It’s always there, in the back of my mind. I guess I take it for granted.”

Miguel hands me the stack of mail and, with a groan, runs his fingers through his hair.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I think we have our motive, Ruby.”

“Motive for what?”

“For terrorizing you.”

“Because of my inheritance? I don’t see how that helps anyone.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says. “This changes everything.”