Max unlocked his door, flipped on the lights and gestured for her to enter ahead of him. Ruby walked inside and looked around with interest. Her job likely made her extra inquisitive. While he was compelled to tell her the truth, as time went on, he found it easier to temper the words coming out of his mouth with partial truths.
“I love you,” was always the first thing he wanted to tell her, but since leaving the Black and Orange Ball, the impulse was getting easier to control. Perhaps his love for her would wear off. Part of him hoped it wouldn’t.
Max closed the door, took off his jacket and hung it on the curvy, wooden coatrack also left behind from the previous owner. The Realtor had labeled it a Bentwood coatrack when they toured the place.
She sat on the red leather sofa left behind by the previous owner. Pretty much everything he owned had once belonged to the previous tenant. He hoped whoever it was didn’t ever come back for all this great stuff.
“Okay, I’m dying to find out what you told the police,” Ruby said. “Sorry, it’s in my nature to be curious. Goes with the job, you know?”
Max joined her on the sofa, keeping a civil space between them. “I told them that I saw a strange little man dressed in a green tux and matching top hat in the bathroom at the same time I was in there.”
“Who was it?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. He wasn’t in any of the mugshots they showed me. But Deputy Blythe is going to set up a sketch artist for me to render a picture of the man I saw.”
Ruby’s lovely mouth formed an O and she nodded, still looking around his apartment.
“Do you like my place?”
“I do. Sparse, but with eclectic furniture.”
“Sparse? Eclectic? Is that good?”
She grinned. “Well, I like it.”
He grinned back. “I like it, too.”
Her gaze lowered to his right hand and the wide ring on his finger hiding the letters of his name.
“Will you take your ring off so I can see underneath it?”
He moved to do what she asked, but restrained himself with some effort. “Why?”
“For my current job, I’m looking for a man with a tattoo of some letters on his right ring finger.”
Max had to force himself not to immediately do her bidding and express his undying love. He closed his eyes to concentrate, finding it easier to keep silent if he wasn’t looking at her.
“So, will you please show me what’s under your ring?”
“I’d rather not.”I love you. I love you. I love you. Here, go ahead, look at my initials. Let me rip my ring off to show you the permanent reminder and shame of my past.He pressed one hand over the other to keep from yanking the ring off.
“Why?”
“Well, um.”How to explain.“Because it’s personal.” He nearly gave in to the drumbeat of compulsion egging him to do as she asked. Was it her low husky voice that compelled him? Her inquisitive blue eyes? Because she smelled so good? All of the above?
“Personal? What doesthatmean?”
“It means that the mark under my ring represents something I used to be very proud of. But that I’m not proud of anymore.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Please do not ask me to show you.”
“But I need to know.”
“Once you know, it might change your opinion of me.”
“I don’t have an opinion of you.”
