“He was short.”
“Short?”
She snorts through the tears. “In height, yeah, but he made up for it in kindness. He could make anyone laugh—even you, if you’d met him. He was a real comedian.”
I don’t take it as an insult. I’m not much of a laugher. “What did he do for a living?”
“He was a comedian,” she repeats.
I can’t help but crack a smile. “You mean arealcomedian.”
She nods, smiling, her eye moist.
A chuckle escapes me, surprising us both. Somehow, my slow-to-laughter brain decides this is exactly the right time—when a teary-eyed woman is telling me about her lost love.
“He was on tour when the accident happened,” she says, tears flowing freely now. Without thinking, I step closer and draw her into my arms.
She sniffs loudly, her nose pressing against my lapel. It doesn’t bother me at all.
Through the tears, she says, “I’m sorry. I don’t talk about it much.”
I pull away a bit, giving her the chance to do the same. She doesn’t.
“Why not?”
“People would treat medifferently.”
“No,” I say firmly. “They would know how strong you are.”
She looks up at me, her eyes shining in the low light, full of something I can’t name.
I reach up, brushing a curl from her cheek. She tilts her head slightly, breath catching.
The desire to kiss her is stronger than anything I’ve known.
And yet, the timing is wrong. Terribly wrong. She’s grieving her husband. I’m her business associate, barely tolerated at best. What I am not is an opportunist.
I clear my throat. “This probably shouldn’t happen.”
“Right,” she says, nodding too fast. “Totally. Too impulsive. Like sneezing.”
My mouth twitches. “Exactly like that.”
We both stand there, pretending something monumental didn’t almost happen. My pulse hasn’t gotten the memo. It’s dangling somewhere between salsa dancing and cardiac arrest.
I glance at my phone like there’s a reason I should check it. She fiddles with tulips that do not need rearranging. We’re both masters of avoidance. When I finally say goodnight, my voice is quieter than usual. “Get some rest, Ruby.”
“Sure,” she murmurs, watching me go.
As the door shuts behind me, I lean against the exterior wall and exhale, whispering to no one, “We are so, so doomed.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ruby
I curlup on my thrift-store loveseat. The bright purple floral pattern is loud even for me, but I’m convinced there’s no comfier seat in this town. I stare at the ceiling, looking for clarity about Griffin Renshaw.
I can’t stop thinking about his lips, the warmth of his beard pressed against my cheek, the quiet strength in his voice when he consoled me. There were sparks shooting from everywhere.
