Page 30 of Nash
"She's up," Rider says. "Been sketching in the spare room all night."
"I've got it. Get some sleep."
Rider heads out. I take the stairs and knock twice on the spare room door.
Silence. Then footsteps. The door opens.
Ruby is in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, big enough to belong to someone, and the question of who makes my chest tighten. Her hair is piled on top of her head with a pencil stuck through the bun. Ink stains mark her fingers. Her face is bare. No makeup, no red lipstick, no glitter. Just freckles across her nose and cheeks, more of them than I've ever seen, and I'm eager to count every one. The thought arrives, and I wish it hadn't.
"Nash." Her eyes widen. "Everything okay?"
"Everything's fine."
"You're here at one in the morning to tell me everything's fine?"
"I'm taking over the detail."
She leans against the doorframe. "Rider get tired of watching my thrilling evening of sketching and bad reality TV?"
"Something like that."
"You're lying," she murmurs.
"I'm here."
"That's not what I said."
She steps back and opens the door wider. "Come in. Since you're apparently my new overnight security."
I step inside. The spare room smells like coffee and ink. Sketchbooks are stacked on the bed, pencils scattered across the nightstand, and a lightbox glowing on the desk with a half-finished design spread across the surface.
She closes the door and turns to face me.
"You're worried," she says.
"I'm doing my job."
"Bullshit." She crosses her arms, and the T-shirt slips lower on her shoulder. No bra strap. Just bare skin from her collarbone to the curve of her shoulder, and I keep my eyes on her face through sheer force of will. "You left hours ago, you come back at one in the morning, and now you're standing in my doorway looking like that. What happened?"
"Nothing happened."
"Then why are you here?"
My jaw sets. "I wanted to check on you."
The words hang between us.
Ruby's arms drop to her sides. Her mouth opens, then closes. "Oh." She walks to the desk, picks up a pencil, puts it down, and turns back to me. "I'm fine, Nash. Really."
"I know."
"Then why..."
"Because I needed to see it."
The lightbox glows on the desk. Ruby takes a step toward me, then another. She stops two feet away, close enough that I can smell her shampoo. Coconut. Warm.
"You could have called," she says.
