Riskier Business (Crossing the Line 0.5)(12)

Ruby’s legs squeezed together and she whimpered, telling him he had her. He could lever her against the wall and f*ck her for an hour straight, both of them loving every pulse-pounding minute. But the sound was layered with sadness. Disappointment. In him? Herself? No, he wouldn’t take the damage he’d done tonight and make it worse. Even if he wanted her with a desperation that shook him to his soul. With incredible difficulty, he stepped away. She dipped a little, her knees buckling, but he held her upright by his grip on her arms.

“Troy…I want you, but it hurts,” she panted, her hand rubbing at her chest. “It shouldn’t hurt.”

“Go.” His voice sounded hoarse. “Go before I change my mind.”

She studied him for a moment. “It’s just tonight. I need some space. Don’t overthink it.”

Troy nodded dumbly, watching in a dreamlike state, as the girl he loved walked out on him.

…

Brent opened the front door to the house he shared with his wife, Hayden, before Ruby even rang the bell. She had to crane her neck to look up at him, the NYPD explosives expert was so damn tall. Knowing she probably looked terrible, since she was treading in the emotional wreckage of the last few hours, Ruby rubbed the sleeve of her jacket under her eyes and laughed uncomfortably.

“Sorry. It’s not even Halloween and you’ve got something scary on your doorstep.” She gestured to her mascara-stained cheeks. “Not suitable for male company, big guy.”

Brent gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her on the back. “Hey, I’ve got a sister, a sister-in-law, two nieces, twin baby girls, and a high-maintenance wife. As long as it’s not directed at me, you can cry me a river, sweetheart.”

Hayden appeared behind him rolling her eyes, obviously having overheard her husband’s attempt to comfort, but Ruby glimpsed the underlying affection there. “It’s usually directed at him. Come in, Ruby. Story is on her way over with sangria.”

“And that’s my cue to head over to the town house,” Brent said, referring to Hayden’s posh ex-residence, the one she’d lived in before they married, but still kept for convenience. He snatched his duffel bag off the floor of the foyer. “I seriously doubt Daniel and Troy would appreciate me being the only rooster at this hen party.”

Hayden stood on her toes to give Brent a kiss. “See ya, Flo.”

“’Night, Duchess.” He winked at her. “If you ladies burn your bras, I want photographic evidence.” His attention transferred to Ruby. “Hey, whatever happened tonight, I know it was tough. But you and Troy are tougher. Capiche?”

“Capiche,” Ruby mumbled, trading places with him in the doorway. She walked into the house toward Hayden’s living room, hoping to give the couple another minute together. Part of her felt like shit for interrupting their night together—again—since Brent had already been at Quincy’s on her behalf, but mostly, she was too drained to process guilt. She dropped her purse onto the couch and plunked down next to it, observing the newly decorated interior with weary eyes. Baby toys, bouncy chairs, pink quilts. Although it was far from the first time she’d been in Hayden and Brent’s babyproofed home, after the events of the night and having her past dangled in front of her face, she felt even more out of place than usual. Upon meeting Hayden months ago, she’d been positive the class divide would eliminate the possibility of friendship. What did a girl who lived over a noodle shop in Brooklyn and an Upper West Side debutante have in common?

Shockingly, their differences had never entered into the equation. While Hayden radiated confidence, the more time Ruby spent with her, it became apparent that she didn’t always know where she fit in among her peers, either. They’d connected on that level, and Ruby’s doubts about finding common ground with a rich girl had been sunk. Now, however, staring her friend’s newfound matrimonial bliss and parenthood in the eye, she’d never felt further from connected to anyone. Anything. Had she ever had a single baby toy or quilt? She couldn’t even remember.

Hayden strode into the living room then, her steps brisk and efficient. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Look what I found outside.”

Story, Daniel Chase’s wife, followed close behind, flip-flops slapping on the wood floor, a pitcher of sangria held aloft. “I come bearing gifts of great honor.”

Ruby smiled. “Where are the other two wise men?”

“Their camels are in the shop.”

“Holding a glass pitcher of alcohol and wearing flip-flops in this cold-ass weather.” Hayden shook her head sadly. “How the hell did you get a cab to stop for you?”

Story shrugged. “I offered some sangria to the driver.”

Hayden exchanged a glance with Ruby. “Offering alcohol to your driver. So many things wrong with that, I don’t even know where to start.” She poured the red liquid into three glasses she’d retrieved from the kitchen. “But my babies are finally sleeping, so let’s just drink.”

“Amen,” Ruby agreed. “Thanks for this, guys. I know it’s late.”

“Bah.”

“Meh.”

“I know you’re probably wondering what happened. I’ll get around to it.” Ruby took a healthy sip of her drink. “Mind talking about something else for a while first?”