Page 77 of A Tempting Seduction

Sam's weathered face creased with worry. “Let’s put it this way, it’s the first time she’s ever asked me to come in and help her cover.”

I nodded and headed toward the back of the shop. The office door was cracked open, and I could see Ruby sitting in the desk chair with her knees pulled up to her chest. She looked so vulnerable, that something fierce and protective roared to life in my chest.

“Ruby?”

She looked up, and the relief that washed over her face nearly broke my heart. “Ford.”

“Come on.” I held out my hand. “Let's get you out of here.”

She took my hand without question, and I helped her to her feet. Sam appeared in the doorway, concern written all over his face.

“You’ll take care of her?” he asked quietly.

“I will.”

The drive to my house passed in silence. Ruby stared out the passenger window, but I could see her reflection in the glass. Could see the way her hands trembled in her lap. Whatever had happened, whatever had triggered this call, it was big.

My house sat on Oak Street, eight miles from the town square on the city limits. I'd bought it six years ago from Mrs. Hoyt's estate and spent two years renovating every inch. The Craftsman-style bungalow had good bones, and I'd restored the original hardwood floors, rebuilt the front porch, and updated the kitchen with custom cabinets from our shop.

I was proud of what I'd accomplished here. This house represented everything I'd worked for. Stability. Success. A place to build a future.

But Ruby didn't notice any of it. She walked through my front door without seeing the restored crown molding or the hand-carved newel post. Her eyes had a glazed quality that reminded me of trauma victims I'd seen on construction sites after accidents. Or injured airmen when I had been in the Air Force.

“Sit down.” I guided her to the couch in my living room. “I'll be right back.”

I went to the kitchen and retrieved the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet above the sink. Maker's Mark, the good stuff I saved for special occasions. This definitely qualified.

When I returned to the living room, Ruby was sitting exactly where I'd left her, staring at her hands.

“Here.” I poured two fingers of bourbon into a glass and held it out to her. “Drink this.”

She took the glass and knocked back the entire contents in one swallow. The liquor didn't even make her flinch.

That worried me more than anything else. Ruby was the kind of woman who sipped wine with dinner and made faces when Carrie’s husband Tommy told his off-color jokes. Seeing her toss back bourbon like it was water told me exactly how far from okay she really was.

I poured myself a smaller measure and sat down beside her on the couch. Close enough to touch but not crowding her. Close enough to offer comfort if she wanted it.

“Ruby.” I kept my voice gentle. “Talk to me.”

She looked at me then—really looked at me—and I could see tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. But she didn't cry. Somehow, that was worse than if she had.

“I need to tell you something,” she said finally. “About my past. About why I'm really in Jasper Creek.”

“Okay.”

“It's not what you think. It's not some romantic story about a girl who wanted a fresh start in a small town.” Her voice was steady now, but hollow. “It's ugly. And dangerous. And once I tell you, you might not want anything to do with me.”

I reached over and took her hand. Her fingers were ice cold despite the warm afternoon. “Ruby, there's nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel about you.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” I squeezed her hand. “Whatever happened before you came here, whatever you're running from, we'll figure it out together.”

She stared at our joined hands for a long moment. When she looked up at me again, something had shifted in her expression. Like she'd made a decision.

“My real name isn't Ruby Miller,” she said quietly. “It's Ruby Banks. And I’m almost positive my father was murdered because of me.”

The words hung in the air between us. I kept my expression neutral, even though my mind was racing. Ruby Banks. Not Miller. Everything I thought I knew about her past had just shifted.