Rubi lowered the rig so fast, it hit the desk with a crack. Her head turned sharply toward Wes, and the look in her eyes made that fist in his gut turn to ice.
“You’re leaving?” Her voice wavered between surprise and frustration. But it was the edge of vulnerability that sliced through him. “Just like that?”
“She grew up with her father leaving her at the drop of a hat.” Lexi’s words from the other night filled his head, and his chest vibrated with guilt.
He darted a look at Rachel and saw that she was on the phone.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he told Rubi softly. “I just found out in the last ten minutes.”
She returned her gaze to the rig, all the openness and lightness in her expression now tight and dark. “Well then…” She turned, rig in hand, and started toward the door. “I’d better get going on this.”
Fourteen
Rubi paced her living room, arms crossed, the long skirt matching her bikini brushing her calves. The conference call with NSA droned in her ear through the headset, but her mind was on the rig lying on her coffee table. A cord snaked between her computer and the motherboard she’d added to the unit.
Restless, she wandered around the back of the sofa and glanced at the screen. Still downloading. Once all the data she’d collected loaded, she could test the program.
She’d been angsty since Wes told her the filming schedule with Renegades had changed and that he was going to head home now instead of in a few weeks. He was leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow. And, damn, didn’t that just put a chink in her plans to try to build something with him? The fact that he was up and leaving after she’d taken that jump just…really tweaked her psyche.
Her fears weren’t rational, she knew. He traveled all the time. Or at least he had before they’d nailed this Bond contract. But that wouldn’t last forever. If she wanted to be with him, she was going to have to get used to him traveling, schedule changes, upheavals in schedules. She knew it happened with Jax. Even with the Bond film, the Renegades jumped between jobs all over the freaking globe. The only reason Wes was grounded in LA right now was because of the scenes he was working with Bolton.
She hadn’t even realized it would be a problem until he’d sprung it on her this morning, and a familiar dark current of fear coursed through her chest. The same one she’d had too often throughout her childhood.
Double-checking the call—and the exhilarating project-budget discussion—was on mute, she reminded herself, “This isn’t the same. It’s no big deal.”
But the jumping in her chest wasn’t helping her convince herself of that. Deeply buried fears she hadn’t fully learned to manage urged her to pull back. Warned her to shield herself from the hurt of having him walk out of her life, never sure when he’d come back. Or if he’d come back.
“He’s not your father.” She repeated the words, but they weren’t sinking in. Probably because they didn’t make any sense. “Goddammit, get your shit together, Rubi.”
She’d been realigning her brain all damn day, and like a rubber band, it just kept snapping back to old patterns of fear.
Glancing toward the kitchen, she could just make out Rodie’s tail peeking out from behind the island, where he lay on the floor at the glass sliding doors. Another pinch of worry tightened her chest. He’d been there all day, head on his paws, staring out the door, instead of curled on the sofa beside her. If this malaise lasted until morning, she’d have to take him to the vet.
Her cell, sitting on the coffee table next to the rig, vibrated. She picked it up, tapped out of the call screen—wishing she could tap out of the call altogether—and found a text from Wes.
WES: I’ve got a big, tasty piece of meat grilling for you.
A small laugh popped out of her throat. Big and tasty was right. She would not let this sudden trip ruffle her. I will not.
RUBI: I could go for leftovers. Brunch was a-maz-ing.
WES: Girl, you’re making me hard again.
RUBI: Just the way I like you. I’m stuck on an NSA conference call.
She glanced at the clock on her computer screen. It was way too freaking late for business. Damned overseas contractors.
She told herself that was where her annoyance stemmed from, but she was irritated by several things aside from the circling, repetitive statements in her ear. She had knots in her neck from working on the rig’s programming for eight straight freaking hours. She’d spent a sleepless night reliving her encounter with Wes, her thoughts flipping between “right” and “wrong.” And now this trip…
WES: I didn’t know our government actually worked.
RUBI: They don’t. They spend all their time talking about working.
WES: You’re bringing Rodie, right? I picked up a Frisbee for him today.
Her mouth quirked.
RUBI: Nice. Thank you. But, no, I’m not bringing him. He doesn’t play well with other people. Never warmed up to Lexi or Jax.
WES: He’s just got to get out more, interact. He’s as sweet as his mama.
Rubi sighed and closed her eyes. A gooey sensation spread through her chest, followed quickly by a flash of uncomfortable heat.
“Learned behavior,” she told herself. “You can break this pattern.”
She wandered into the kitchen to stand by Rodie and stare out at the ocean. The repetitive roll of waves layered her stress with a blanket of relief. Consistent. Ever present. Powerful. Protective. The ocean seemed to wrap her in a certainty of forever, helping with her jumpy nerves.
She glanced down at Rodie for the hundredth time today. His eyes were open, scanning every movement on the beach. She crouched beside him and stroked him, head to tail. “How are you doing, baby?”
He lifted his head, wagged his tail, and licked her face. But then immediately resumed his sad position. This just wasn’t like him. He was an impossibly happy dog. Maybe she should call the vet. Then she thought of Wes and his experience with animals.
RUBI: I’m worried he might be sick. Do you know how to tell?
WES: I’m already halfway to your place, coming to check up on you. I’ll take a look at him.
Her heart tripped at the news that he was close. An immediate bite of irritation followed. She didn’t want these unsettling feelings. These little unexpected zings of electricity every time she thought of him were beyond annoying.
She smoothed her hand over Rodie’s head. “Wes is coming to see you, baby.”
At Wes’s name, Rodie’s head came off the floor. He pushed into a sitting position and his ears tilted forward. His eyes sparked with an alertness Rubi hadn’t seen all day.
“Rubi, how’s it going on your end?” The voice in her ear redirected her attention.
She pressed her Mute button and replied to the woman overseeing the project. “Great,” she lied. She’d been skimming time from the NSA project to program the apps for Renegades—because the apps were fun and the NSA project was mind-numbingly boring. After forgoing them both to work on Wes’s project, she was going to be sleeping very little over the next week. “Everything’s on target.”
Rodie pushed to his feet, tail wagging fiercely, ears perked. His whines picked up volume and pitch. Frowning, Rubi peered out the door. A figure jogged their direction. She narrowed her eyes on her dog—the animal who loved no one but Rubi. The animal that growled and threatened everyone who came within half a mile of the house.
She crossed her arms and glared down at Rodie. He was acting completely normal. His lighthearted, happy self. Rubi shook her head and muttered, “You little traitor.”
His paws were up against the glass before Wes was within half a mile, wearing nothing but swim trunks.
She rubbed the back of her neck and slid open the door, then the screen. Rodie let out a bark and took off toward Wes, ignoring a pair of Labradors walking with a man the other direction.
“Hey there, buddy,” Wes called to Rodie as the dog approached, then dropped to his knees in the sand. Rodie jumped on him, paws on Wes’s shoulders, licking his face. Wes’s head tilted back, and laughter rolled from his throat, the deep, rich sound tingling through Rubi’s body. “Seems like you’re feeling pretty good.”
Rubi shook her head and touched the Mute button to sign off the call with the others. She was pulling the earpiece off when he looked up and spotted her standing in the doorway. Even several yards away now, she could see the joy in his smile.
Her stomach took a tumble, then squeezed, spurting adrenaline through her upper body. And this time when she tuned in to the emotions, there were far more what-ifs? than “no ways.”
He stood, flung the Frisbee toward Rubi’s house, and Rodie took off after it. Wes followed. Rubi left the door open for him and returned to the living room to check on the program. Rodie trotted into the house first, a red Frisbee clutched in his mouth, his deep brown eyes sparkling and a bounce in his step.
Wes appeared a moment later, his swim trunks covered in big red Hawaiian flowers on a white background contrasting with his tanned skin—all that tanned skin wrapping his muscles.
He crouched in front of Rodie again, taking his face in both hands. “He looks good. Is he eating okay? Drinking water?”
“Yes,” she said, shooting him a lightly disgusted look. “Little faker perked right up when your name was mentioned.”
The concern vanished from his expression, replaced by a wide grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Told you he’d love me.”
Rubi returned her gaze to the screen with a smirk.
He rounded the sofa to stand behind her and pressed his hands to her shoulders. With her upper body clad in only a bikini top, his palms were hot and slightly rough. The sensation flashed her back in time, to the feel of his fingers inside her. God, he’d known just where, just how to touch her. Warmth spread low in her body.
His fingers flared over the back of her neck, exposed with her hair in a loose, messy twist. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath of relief.
“Baby, you’re all knotted up.” His voice registered guilt. “Have you been working on this all day?”
“Had to. We need time to test it. And, honestly, Wes, this is a total experiment. I don’t know if it’s such a great idea to use it on someone who just had surgery.”
“Everything in the world starts as an experiment.” He rubbed her shoulders. “The physical therapist knows all about the rig, and she’s consulted with Wyatt’s surgeon. But I didn’t realize it was going to be so time-consuming for you. I know when someone needs a break, and someone recently taught me all about getting rid of this tension.”
His thumbs made small circles, spreading relief down her neck. She let out a breathy moan and sank back on the sofa. Wes pressed a thumb to the knot. Rubi’s moan transitioned to a whimper.
“Don’t tense against me.” He repeated the words she’d said to him when she’d massaged the knots from his neck, but added a thick layer of suggestion. “Let go,” he murmured, leaning close to kiss the back of her neck. “Let your body respond to me.”
She sighed and let more tension out of her muscles. Within seconds, the knot melted beneath his thumb. Rubi groaned with relief. “Oh my God. You’re a quick learner.”
Her computer pinged, signaling the completed transfer. “Done. Shall we give it a try?”
“You’re incredible.” He came around the sofa and took the rig she handed to him. As he swung it around his hips, Rubi lowered to her knees and reached for the straps.
“I added a few variations in the program with the exercises you sent me.” She pointed to the e-mail he’d sent earlier that day. “Go in order. But don’t expect much. It’s on the lowest power setting.”
She shifted to sit on the coffee table while Wes stretched out on the sofa. He pulled his knees to his chest. Did a few leg lifts. A few stretches. “I can barely feel it.”
“Good. He’ll use this setting later in his recovery, when his muscles are strong and he doesn’t need as much help. Roll to your side, and I’ll put in the strongest program. He’ll use this one first.”
Wes rolled away from Rubi. She opened the compartment near his spine where she’d had a friend insert a special relay and port for the micro discs.
“I’m a little worried about this one,” she said as he lay back again. “Move very slow and don’t put much effort into your muscles.”
He laced his fingers behind his head and watched his right knee as he pulled it into his body. With barely more effort than the tension of his muscle, the rig responded. The motor revved, hinge turned, straps lifted his leg.
“Whoa.” His eyes widened, and he grinned.
“Is that a good whoa or a bad whoa?”
“It’s…powerful.” He tested out more movements. “It’s like…man, like I’m not using any muscle at all. Like the rig is doing all the work.”
A flash of excitement made Rubi squeal. She clapped her hands. “That’s exactly the way it’s supposed to work.”
“Christ, you’re adorable.” Wes sat up, reaching for her.
Rubi gasped and put a hand to his shoulder. “No, Wes—”
The rig reacted to the use of his muscles, the sensors reading his effort and multiplying it according to the program. The rig took over, jerking his legs. His knees bent and knocked him back on the sofa hard.
“Oh my God.” Rubi lunged toward him, reached behind his back, and hit the Power button. Her shock ebbed into fear, and her heart hammered. All the tension drained from the rig, and Wes’s legs relaxed onto the sofa. She ran her hands over his thighs where his muscles spasmed beneath her fingers. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”