Proposing to Jax.
Marrying him yesterday.
Telling Sapphire.
What she couldn't remember, how she'd ended up in this bed.
She'd been shattered after her confrontation with Sapphire, emotionally overwrought. She'd built a perfectly plausible marriage scenario in her head, prepared to rationalise it to her sister. Not lying, but not telling the direct truth, but Saph had seen straight through her.
In a way, Ruby had been relieved. Saph hadn't freaked out too badly, she hadn't dismembered Jax, and having her sister know the truth alleviated some of her stress.
But it had taken a toll. She hadn't wanted to talk on the drive to the B&B. Besides, Jax didn't seem the comforting type. Baring her soul to have him dismiss her or close down as she suspected he might would've made her bawl.
Bad enough that his caring almost made her cry. What had he said, something along the lines ofyou deserve a special wedding night?
He'd almost undone her.
She could've happily fallen into his strong arms and blubbered all over his designer tux if she hadn't seen the dawning horror in his eyes.
Right, got the message. New husband doesn't do emotions.
He'd bolted while she slumped on the sofa… and that was the last she remembered. She must've fallen asleep and he'd carriedher into the bedroom. And encountering his foot meant he'd taken off her shoes.
Which begged the question: what else did he take off?
She slid her hand under the top sheet and encountered the sheath dress, and for one shocking moment, disappointment warred with relief.
Who would've thought, her brooding, charismatic husband could be a gentleman too?
She studied Jax, his face relaxed in sleep. He'd lost the frown lines and tightness around his mouth. He had an inherent toughness that faded when he slept and seeing him sleeping soundly, almost susceptible, humanised him more than the understanding he'd demonstrated on the drive here yesterday.
His thoughtfulness in carrying her to the bed and tucking her in impressed her, and made her like him more than she should.
She didn't want to feel anything for him, it wouldn't be wise, but with his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheek and his mouth slack with sleep, her heart wriggled.
Unable to resist, she brushed a lock of hair off his forehead and his eyes instantly snapped open, the fear she glimpsed in them making her heart ache.
What would make a tough guy like him scared, and wake so quickly?
Something in his past, to do with his father perhaps?
In the second it took her to process his reaction, his fear vanished, replaced by a familiar heat in his hooded eyes.
”The sleeping beauty awakes."
"That's debatable." She smirked. "You're not so beautiful."
His mouth eased into a grin and her heart kicked. "I was talking about you."
"Technically, I wasn't sleeping because I woke first."
"Are you always this argumentative first thing in the morning?"
While said in jest, the reality hit her. Though they hadn't finalised living arrangements yet—she wouldn't budge from her apartment above the workshop and he wouldn't move in with her—in all probability they'd have to cohabit for some length of time to convince people of the validity of this marriage. And that meant she'd find it increasingly difficult to ignore the simmering attraction between them when waking next to him every morning for the foreseeable future until they got what they wanted out of this deal and the marriage dissolved.
"Depends."
He propped up on one elbow, the sheet slipping and revealing a spectacular bronzed, broad chest. "On what?"
