Blurred (Connections, #3.5)(23)

When I stop by the coffee shop for my morning Joe, Ruby’s there sitting at a table with her head hung low.

“Hey, where’s the smile you always wear?” I ask placing my hand on her shoulder.

She looks up and wipes tears from her eyes with her thumbs. “Oh, sorry. Bad night, that’s all.”

Now, I could be the * I know I am and ignore the fact that she’s crying. I could also ignore the comment because like I said, I’m not looking to be her girlfriend. But I woke up in a decent mood and I didn’t even have a hangover, so rather than bolt, I decide to sit down. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she answers, pulling her lips upward and taking a deep breath.

Thank f*ck because I wasn’t looking to be her shoulder to cry on. But I do study her for a moment. I take a sip of my coffee, then look out the window for a few minutes. “Hey, see that over there?” I’m pointing to a motorcycle stopped at the light.

She nods and sits up straighter, the corners of her lips turning up even further. “Yeah, a dad whose son was screaming all morning because there was no Captain Crunch left for breakfast.” She giggles.

I notice the grocery bag on the back. “You’ve got this nailed. But today I’m not detailing, I’m buying, and I’m shopping for one of those.”

“Really?” She sounds surprised.

“Really.”

“Stop by later and show me?”

I nod. “Hey, you sure everything is okay?”

She smiles. “Go buy yourself a new ride. We’ll talk later.”

I make a mental note to stop by Beck’s tomorrow and ask what’s going on before I head for the door.

***

By sunset I’m jamming my boot down on the kickstand of my new black and silver BMW K 1300S. Sweetest ride I’ve ever bought. Its dynamic performance sold me within the first few feet of the tires hitting the pavement—she can move. As twilight teases the horizon, I toss my leg over the side and step back to admire the beauty of the incredible machine that’s now mine—on credit, but I own it nonetheless. When I glance up, I see someone’s red hair blowing in the wind. There’s no mistaking her—S’belle. I stay frozen in place and observe her standing on the sidewalk. She pulls her phone away from her ear and kicks the flat tire of her car with her high heel.

Next she goes to the passenger door and bends down, peeking into the window of the white Cabriolet. She looks like she could use some assistance.

With my helmet in my hand I approach her. “Need some help?”

Her eyes dart to mine and her mouth forms a frown. “No, I’m good.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look that way.”

Her phone rings and her eyes cut to the pocket she tucked it into and so do mine. I can’t help but notice the way her tight jeans hug her hips and thighs. She doesn’t even pull it out.

I raise a brow. “Not going to answer that? What if that’s your automotive assistance?”

“It’s my boss. I’m supposed to be at the wedding venue in thirty minutes.”

“So did you call Triple A?”

“No, I don’t have Triple A,” she hisses. “I’ve always called my brothers but neither is in town and my mother and stepfather are gone as well.”

I tap her trunk. “So pop this baby and I’ll change the tire for you.”

“I’m not completely helpless. I would have done that already but I locked my keys in the car. I’ve spent the last thirty minutes trying to figure out where I left them and there they are.” She points in the window.

I peer inside. The keys are dangling from the ignition. “Can’t help you there. Left my lock-pick kit at home.” She rolls her eyes. “Do you have a second set of keys?”

“Not on me,” she barks, and I try not to laugh. I could be offended that she seems to hate me so much but, honestly, something about her fiery attitude makes me yearn to see more of it. I try to control my grin by swiping my hand across my mouth. “I mean at home.”

Her brows scrunch together. “Of course I do, but that doesn’t help me now, does it?”

What I’m feeling is an overwhelming urge to spank her for being such a smart-ass but instead I hand her my helmet. “Here put this on.”

Her hands fly to her hips and she bites her bottom lip as if contemplating her fate. When her phone rings again, she glances at her wrist but she’s not wearing a watch. “Just get on,” I order. “I don’t bite. I’ll just run you to get your keys and bring you back here.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m supposed to be at work in thirty minutes. I don’t have time for that.”

I should have just walked away and left her and her bitchy attitude on the sidewalk. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “I’ll run you home to grab a change a clothes and then drop you off at work.”

She steps forward and my vision blurs red from her closeness.

“Well . . . ,” she says.

I blink at her in confusion.

“The helmet. Are you going to hand it to me?”

Relief rises as I stretch out my hand and grin. “Here you go,” I say, bowing before her. “Where to?” What the hell is wrong with me?

“Sunset Place. Do you know where it is?”