12
SAMUEL
Igrin as Ruby shoves me out of the kitchen. She says that I’m standing in her way because I’m “built like a damn grizzly” and I decide to take that as a compliment. I know that she’s lying though, not about the whole built like a grizzly thing, but about her reasons for needing me out of the kitchen.
When I had my hands on her, she looked at me as if she wanted to beg me to bend her over the kitchen counter and fuck her soul out of her. Unfortunately, I’m not as opposed to the idea as I had been a few days ago.
I still want to keep my distance from her, but a bit of teasing never hurt, and seeing that smug grin vanish from her face was satisfactory in its own way.
Around twenty minutes later, she comes back to the living room with a freshly filled glass of red wine, but who am I to judge?
She makes her way over to the couch while I sit behind her at the dinner table with my laptop open in front of me. I want to close it as she leaves the kitchen, but she doesn't seem interested in it at all, just snuggles up on the couch.
She covers her legs with her blanket as if it’s not early summer, but before I can think about her weird habits some more, the TV starts blaring at a volume that’s criminal.
Even more so because Ruby watches a dating show that consists of dramatic yelling, fake laughing, and even more dramatic yelling. I wish she’d read something instead. I wonder if she does it to provoke me or if she is just that oblivious to her surroundings. Probably the latter.
Not even the best soldier could work under those circumstances and every time I get at least a bit of my focus on Mr. Barron's credit card history, her stupid show drags my attention away. She really is a bad influence. It will take me months to return to my usual self once I’m done with this damned mission.
“Why does she even like that guy? He’s an absolute jerk.” It’s embarrassing enough that I whispered this to myself, but Ruby also heard it.
“Huh?” She turns around to face me, her expression equal parts puzzled and entertained. Once again I catch myself thinking that she is kind of cute.
Ruby is not cute, I remind myself.
“Nothing,” I say, as if I wasn’t watching her inane show for the past twenty minutes.
My answer seems to please her because she turns back around and presses play. All goes well until I can’t keep my mouth shut any longer. How am I supposed to do that if half of the people on that show are the definition of the word shithead?
Yes, we work with criminals and see the darkest aspects of humanity on a daily basis, but I’m still impressed by how the producers found people like that. Or maybe their behavior is normal and I’m the weird one.
“That one is a piece of shit. The girl deserves better, unless she’s just as horrible as him.” I hear myself saying the wordsand bite down on my tongue. I should put some tape over my mouth.
“Never expected you to be a gossip queen who enjoys dating shows.”
“I don’t. It’s just hard to ignore when the TV is blaring like that.”
“Sure.” She usesthattone again, and I start tapping with my foot to calm down. “We can watch the next episode while we eat.”
“Thank you, but no,” I say while I look down at the open tab on my laptop where I already searched for the show so that I can watch it later tonight. Alone. She’s drugging me. That’s the only explanation for whatever is going on in this house.
Samuel Ryves, watching trash TV. I should tell Max, just so that he mocks me for it. Maybe it would help me get back to my senses. I should probably ask someone else than Max, because I have a feeling that he would be delighted, asking me to watch stuff like that together with him while he texts me his “commentary”.
I’m here for barely more than a week and I already miss him. Not only him, but also Rockwell and even Logan. Just a few more days until the captain hopefully decides on what we are going to do with Mr. Barron. Assumed that I gathered enough solid evidence to back up his plans.
“Stop bickering and come over here.” Ruby’s voice shakes me out of my thoughts about a better place. She’s already halfway to the kitchen and the only reason I follow her is that the lasagna smells too good and I don’t want to risk not getting anything.
She struggles to reach the plates on the top shelf, standing on her tiptoes in those ridiculous slippers she’s always wearing. It’s only a matter of time until she trips, and with my luck, that’ll probably mean a trip to the ER with her. I bet fivedollars to myself that she’s going to hurt herself because of those things.
But those slippers aren’t the only thing that catches my eye. I wonder if she’d arch her back like that for me too. Her shirt is already quite short, but now her whole stomach is exposed and I swear I can see red lace peeking out from under her black shirt.
I need to get my hands on her. Just for a second.
Ruby is still desperately trying to get those plates, so focused that she doesn’t notice me coming closer until I put my hand on her waist. I let it rest on her exposed skin, and she’s even softer than I imagined. And warm, like a radiator.
I count to three before I pull my hand away. I need to, because if I keep my hand on her for even a second longer, I won’t find the willpower to remove it anymore.
“Here, short stuff,” I say with a laugh as I hand her the plates. Thinking about it, she purposely reached for those, because there were more than enough others on the lower shelves. Manipulative brat.
