Something in my chest shifts, a sudden heat that counteracts the chilled air. Ruby’s easy warmth is unsettling, making me want to confess more, linger longer.. I tell her about my son, his studies, his hot-cold attitude towards me.
Ruby hangs on every word. No questions, no judgment.
When I’m done, we sit in silence watching Silver Pine wind down, the only sounds from the river brushing against rocks.
Maybe it’s just curiosity after the way she talked about the Valentine’s Day dance, like she really believes in starry-eyed romance but I say, “I’ll see you at the cotillion, then?”
I try telling myself it’s just a community event but the truth is, knowing she’ll be there gives it a different weight, one I can feel but not quite define. And . . . I want to see her there, witness her excitement. Even if I won’t admit it out loud.
She smiles, a heart-tugging, knowing smile, and lays her hand atop mine. A jolt shoots through me, her touch completely unexpected. I feel unmoored, aware of the buzzing electricity between us.
As we walk back to the car, I’m thinking maybe quiet isn’t all I want anymore.
Chapter Nineteen
Ruby
It’s late.The shop is cold, kept that way for the flowers, and even in my warm sweater I can’t seem to shake the chill.
I’m trying to untangle a ribbon, but my fingers keep slipping. Not because I’m cold but because of Griffin. Because of this strange, almost electric feeling in the shop today. It started at the overlook during our break, when he talked about his divorce and his son. And when I placed my hand on his steady one. It was surprisingly rough, like he’s been doing manual labor.
He’s now at the counter, most of him dusted with baby’s breath. He’s been quieter than usual, which for him is saying something.
I move to toss the ribbon scraps into the wastebasket and catch a faint sparkle on my wrist.
Griffin looks up. “You have glitter all over.”
He steps closer before I can react. His hand lifts, slow and careful, his thumb brushing the spot near my cheekbone. Heat spreads across my skin in a quick rush. My breath catches before I can hide it.
His eyes soften. “You are something else, you know that.”
“You say that like it is a compliment.”
“It might be.”
The air settles around us, warm in a way the shop is not. One more inch and I don’t know what will happen, only that I won’t stop it.
The bell over the door jingles. Mrs. Periwinkle sweeps in, trailing cold air and a cloud of perfume.
I jump back like a guilty teenager. Griffin murmurs something about locking the door after hours.
“Ruby,” she says, “the mayor’s niece just announced that the Valentine’s cotillion might sell out tonight. Everyone is scrambling for tickets.”
Mrs. P. finishes updating us, oblivious to the charged mood around her. When she leaves, the silence settles again.
Griffin clears his throat. He looks anywhere but at me. “We should finish packing the preorder baskets.”
“Right.” My voice barely works. “The baskets.”
But all I can think is what would have happened if Mrs. Periwinkle had arrived two minutes later.
Chapter Twenty
Griffin
Desiree slides a latte toward me.“Three sugars, fat-free milk. Odd combo, Griffin.”
I take hold of the hot mug. It’s another routine I’ve found myself enjoying. Homemade eggs at the inn followed by coffee at the Sweet Peak Café counter. There’s something nice about her knowing my name and my order. I guess it’s a small-town thing.
