Page 41 of Ruger's Rage
"Keeps me busy." She sets down her clipboard. "Shouldn't you be preparing for your dinner thing?"
"It's not 'my dinner thing.' It's a family dinner. Brothers, old ladies, kids running around making noise."
"Sounds chaotic."
"It is." I step closer, giving her space to back away. She doesn't. "Also, the best night of the week."
She studies me, that careful assessment I'm coming to recognize. "Why are you here, Ruger?"
"To see if you needed a ride." I keep my tone casual, like her answer doesn't matter. "Ellie will be here soon."
"I have my car."
"I know."
Our eyes lock, the real conversation happening beneath the words.
Me asking her to take a chance.
Her weighing whether I'm worth the risk.
"Yesterday," she begins, then stops. "The park..."
"Was just a kiss," I finish, though we both know that's bullshit. "Doesn't have to mean anything you don't want it to."
Something flickers in her eyes—disappointment?
"Is that what you want? For it not to mean anything?"
I step closer, close enough to smell her perfume. "What I want is for you to feel safe making your own choices. What I want is for you to know I respect whatever boundaries you set."
Her expression softens. "You're making it very hard to keep my distance."
"Good."
A small laugh escapes her. "You're not what I expected."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
I reach out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Come to dinner. Meet my family. No expectations, no pressure."
She hesitates, then nods. "Okay. But I'm driving myself. Need my own escape route, obviously."
"Smart woman."
"I'm learning to be."
I shoot her a smirk and head back to the clubhouse, figuring she’ll meet me there on her own time. And if she doesn’t, I’m sure I’ll get a text from her.
Back at the clubhouse, the energy has shifted from business to pleasure.
Music plays, the grill smokes, kids chase each other through the clubhouse while the ladies arrange potluck dishes on long tables.
Reed spots me first as I return, raising an eyebrow in question.
I nod once—she's coming—and something like approval crosses his face.
