I nearly fall off my stool. "Bucket list?!" I wheeze. "You have abucket listfor places to be fucked? Andjailis on it?!"
Ruby shrugs with the casual elegance of someone who has clearly made peace with her own audacity. "An omega can dream, Rosemarie. An omega candream."
We're both laughing now—the kind of laughter that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes water, the kind that echoes off the exposed brick and fills the empty bakery with warmth. Outside, the January morning continues its slow crawl toward noon, pale sunlight fighting through clouds that promise snow.
"You should make one," Ruby says once we've caught our breath.
"Make one what?"
"A bucket list. Sex bucket list. Places, positions, scenarios." She ticks them off on her fingers like she's suggesting a grocery list rather than erotic adventures. "It's very therapeutic. Manifestation through organization."
Only Ruby could make sexual goal-setting sound like a TED Talk.
I think about it for a moment—really think, not just dismiss it as Ruby being Ruby. A list of things I want. Things I desire. Things I've been too scared or too busy or too burned by my past to pursue.
"I'll try it," I decide. "I mean, what do I got to lose when it comes to men?"
"Absolutely nothing," Ruby agrees emphatically. "We lose nothing by knowing what we want. We only lose by pretending we don't want anything at all."
That's... actually profound. Annoyingly profound. I'm writing that down later.
"Hey," Ruby adds, her voice softening into something more sincere, "you may find a pack before Valentine's Day. Stranger things have happened. I once found a Chanel bag at a thrift store for thirty dollars. The universe is weird."
I groan, slumping against the counter. "All I'm going to be doing for Valentine's Day is managing the special menu. Hazel's on maternity leave with her pack of ridiculously hot firefighters." Ruby snorts at my description. "Reverie scored a mega branddeal from her Christmas content series with her new pack, so she's basically booked through spring. Which means I'm holding down the fort with Mila and whatever seasonal help we can scrape together."
"Valentine's Day is brutal in the food service industry," Ruby acknowledges. "All those couples wanting Instagram-worthy date experiences. All those singles wanting enough sugar to drown their sorrows."
"That's dark."
"That's capitalism, babe."
She finishes the last of her coffee, setting the empty cup down with a satisfied sigh. Then she straightens, something shifting in her expression—less playful, more businesslike.
"Well," she says, "I'll be here for a little bit. Got six months to learn how to ride a horse for an upcoming acting role, so I figured why not do it in a cute small town with a friend nearby?"
I blink. Process. Blink again. "Acting role?Horses?"
"I may have neglected to mention I've been doing some acting work." Ruby examines her ruby-red nails with studied casualness. "Nothing major. Yet. But there's a western romance film they're casting for, and apparently my 'striking presence' would be perfect for the lead omega role." She makes air quotes. "Their words, not mine."
Ruby. In a western. On a horse. Probably wearing leather chaps and seducing cowboys.
I need this movie immediately.
"I'd love to help around here while I'm in town," she continues. "Would keep me busy between riding lessons and give me an excuse to perfect my small-town-girl energy for the character." She grins. "Plus, I miss being a barista. Corporate innovation is great, but there's something about actually making drinks for real people that hits different."
I gawk at her. Literally gawk—mouth slightly open, eyes wide, the whole undignified package. "You... really? You wouldn't mind?"
"Hell no." Ruby's smile is warm and genuine, the mischief dimmed but not extinguished. "I'd love to dive back into my barista skills. This place is gorgeous, the coffee you're making is incredible, and honestly? I could use some grounding after all the chaos of the past year."
She could use some grounding. The woman who just spontaneously went to Rio for New Year's could use some grounding.
We all contain multitudes, I suppose.
Ruby stands, unfolding those impossibly long legs and stretching her arms above her head. Her leather jumpsuit creaks pleasantly with the movement. "I should go check in with my agency so they know I'm in town and doing my part in 'embracing the rustic lifestyle.'" More air quotes. "Actors are apparently supposed to be method about these things."
I laugh, standing as well to walk her to the door. "Method acting for a western by working in a small-town bakery. That's commitment."
"It's calledrange," she says haughtily, then ruins it with a wink. "You still have my number, yes?"
