Читать книгу Snowkissed - Jessica Gilmore, Jennifer Faye - Страница 17
ОглавлениеRUBY WATCHED AS Ethan lit the fire, his movements deft, the tug of denim against the muscles of his thighs holding her gaze as he squatted by the flames.
Stop with the ogling.
She forced herself to lay out the silver paper patterned with snowflakes and the list of gifts on the table. A sip of the deep red wine Ethan had poured for them both and then she waited until he sat opposite her.
‘Here,’ she said, and handed over the first present. ‘This one is for Max: he’s one of the boys in residential care and he’s really into music—specifically rap, which I have to admit I know nothing about. So I did some research, conferred with his key worker at the home, and we came up with this T-shirt. It’s the right size, and it’s a cool label, so...’
Ethan shook the T-shirt out and nodded approval at the slogan. Folding it up again, he kept his eyes on her. ‘It must have taken a fair amount of time to research each and every one of them and then find what you wanted. You should have told me. I’d have lightened your workload.’
‘No way. I was happy to do it on my own time. Plus, you’ve hardly been idle yourself. You’ve briefed the surf instructors, sourced the caterers, the billiards table, co-ordinated all the paperwork—and you’re also running a global business.’
Ruby frowned, wondering why he never seemed to realise just how much he did.
He broke off a piece of tape with a deft snap. ‘What I’ve done is generic—I could have set this up for any group of teenagers in care. You’ve made it personal.’
‘Yes, I have. But I couldn’t have done that if you hadn’t set it up in the first place. Plus...’ She hesitated. ‘What you’ve done is personal too. You’re giving them what helped you. The opportunity to surf, to do other water sport, to expend energy and vent frustration in a positive way. So what you’ve done isn’t generic, and I won’t let you believe it is. You care about these kids.’ With a sudden flash of insight she blurted, ‘Did you grow up on an estate? Like the one some of these kids are from?’ The one he’d described as ‘notorious’.
For a second she thought he wouldn’t answer; the only sound was the crackle of the logs. Then he dropped the wrapped T-shirt into a bag and lifted his broad shoulders in an I-suppose-there’s-no-harm-in-answering shrug.
‘Yes, I did. So I relate to where these kids have come from—a tough background, maybe abuse, neglect, parents on drugs and alcohol or in prison. It’s easy for them to get into trouble, join a gang, because there’s nothing else to do and no one to stop them. And then they do what their parents did—steal, deal...whatever it takes. All these kids are in that cycle, and I’d like to show them there are other choices. Not just by giving them Christmas, but by giving them incentive. If they can go away from here and stay clean for a few months they can come back and take other opportunities if they want to. I want to give them a chance to get off the wheel.’
‘Like you did?’
‘No.’
His voice was harsh now, and the dark pain that etched his features made her yearn to reach out.
‘I didn’t have their excuse. My dad was a lowlife—apparently he yo-yoed in and out of prison—but my mum tossed him out when I was tiny. The time he went down for armed robbery she said enough was enough. Mum didn’t drink or do drugs, and any neglect was because she was out at work all day so she could put food on the table. God knows, she did her best—but it wasn’t enough. I jumped onto the wheel all by myself. Like father, like son.’
The words sounded like a quote, the derision in them painful, and Ruby tried to gather her scrambled thoughts. ‘I’m guessing you got into trouble—but it’s like you said yourself. In an environment like a troubled estate that’s understandable. The point is you got off that wheel and out of trouble. Look at you now—your mum must be proud.’
It was the wrong thing to have said; his face was padlocked and his eyes flecked with ice. Surely his mother hadn’t been the one to make the father-son comparison?
Disbelief morphed into anger as she saw his expression. ‘You are not a lowlife.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion.’ His eyes were dark now, his voice vibrating with mockery, though she wasn’t sure if he was mocking her, himself or the world.
‘I don’t care. Opinion doesn’t make you into your father. It doesn’t work like that. I know that because I am not my parents. Not either of them. And I never will be.’
Her fingers clenched around the edges of the table as she faced him.
‘My parents were addicts. Booze, heroin—whatever they could get their hands on, whenever they could get their hands on it. At whatever cost. Food and paying bills and shoes were all irrelevant.’
She gestured down to the reams of Christmas wrapping paper.
‘For them the festive period was an excuse to justify extra excess—which led to extra verbal violence or extra apathy. Turkey, decorations and presents didn’t feature.’
For a moment she was back there—in the past. Feeling the tingle of childish anticipation that scratched her eyelids as she lay on the verge of sleep. The twist of hope that Santa was real...that she’d open her eyes and see four stuffed stockings for her siblings and herself. More importantly her parents, groomed and sober, would watch them opening them with love. Then reality would touch her with the cold fingers of dawn. The smell of stale cigarettes and worse would invade her nostrils and she’d know it would be another Christmas of playing avoid-the-abuse and hide-from-notice, ensuring her siblings stayed out of the line of fire.
The memory gave steel to her voice. ‘I am not like them. I won’t ever let addiction become more important than my children. Ever.’
His hands clenched on his thighs and his whole body vibrated with tension. His foot jumped on the wooden floor. As if he wanted to somehow change her past for her.
‘Ruby. I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say—except that it sucks that you had to go through that.’
She gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘It did suck, but that’s not the point. The point is I am not my parents and you are not your father.’ His jaw was set and she could almost see her statement slide off him unheeded. ‘I mean, do you even know where he is now?’
‘No. My guess would be in a prison cell.’
‘Well, you aren’t. You are here, trying to make a difference and do good.’
‘In which case I’d better get on with it.’ His tone was light, but with an edge that emphasised the end of the subject. ‘But first...’ and now his gaze was filled with warmth and compassion ‘... I can’t imagine what you went through, but I am full of admiration for the wonderful woman that child has become.’
‘Thank you.’
Frustration mixed with a yen to get close to him—to make him see that his achievements deserved kudos just as much as hers. Yet already she could see the shutters had been pulled down to hood his eyes as he picked up the tape again.
‘We’d better get a move on,’ he said. It’s a big day tomorrow.’
‘Wait.’
Something—she had to do something. Loathing touched her soul at the idea that Ethan had such a deep-rooted, downright skewed vision of himself. Without allowing herself time to think she moved round the table and took his hand, tugged at it to indicate she wanted him to stand. He rose to his feet and she kept her fingers wrapped around his, tried to ignore the frisson that vibrated through her at the feel of his skin against hers.
‘Come here.’
The small frown deepened on his forehead as she led him to the ornate gold Victorian mirror—an oval of gilt curls and swirls.
‘Look at yourself,’ she said firmly, ‘and you will see you. Ethan Caversham. You are you. You may look like your dad, but you are not like him. This I know.’
His reluctance palpable, he shrugged. But he complied, and as he glanced at his reflection she hoped against all hope that he would see what she could. It was an optimism that proved foolhardy as his jaw hardened and a haunting mockery speckled his blue-grey eyes.
She stepped forward and turned so that she faced him, stood on tiptoe and cupped his jaw in her palms. The six o’clock shadow was rough against her skin as she angled his face and met his gaze.
‘You are a good man,’ she whispered, and reached up to kiss him.
Heaven knew she’d had every intention of pressing her lips to his cheek, but instinct overcame common sense and the burning of need to imprint her sincerity onto his consciousness prevailed. Her lips brushed his and she gave a small sigh as desire shimmered and sizzled, and then his broad hands spanned her waist and pulled her against him.
For a second she thought he’d kiss her properly, deepen the connection that fizzed, but as if he’d suddenly caught sight of his reflection he gently moved her away and stepped backwards instead. He lifted a hand and ran a finger against her cheek in a gesture so gentle she felt tears threaten.
‘Thank you, Ruby. I appreciate the endorsement.’
A smile redolent with strain touched his lips and then he turned and headed back to the table, sat down and picked up the scissors.
This was a good thing, right? Of course it was. Kissing Ethan was a bad, bad idea—that was an already established fact. So she needed to crush the absurd sense of disappointment and follow suit.
* * *
Two days later Ethan watched the busload of teenagers depart round the curve of the driveway. A sideways glance showed Ruby still waving, a smile on her face, though he knew she must be exhausted.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll make you a cheese toastie and a cup of tea.’
‘We’ve just had lunch.’
‘No. You just made everybody else lunch. You didn’t actually eat. No protests.’
‘Okay. I am hungry. Thank you.’
Twenty minutes later he made his way to the lounge, to find her curled up on an overstuffed armchair, dark head bent over her phone as she texted.
‘Hey...’ she said, looking up as he deposited the tray on a small table next to her. ‘I’m texting Tara. To tell her I meant it when I said I’d keep in touch.’
Her expression was serious, her brow creased, as she picked up the sandwich.
He eased onto the sofa opposite and stretched his legs out. ‘You bonded with her, didn’t you?’
‘Hard not to bond with someone who scares the bejesus out of you!’
Ethan shook his head; he could still feel the cold glug of panic that had hit his gut two days earlier.
Everything had been going so well. Nearly all the kids had wanted to have a go at the bake off, and had gathered in the kitchen with no more than some minor banter. Ruby had set up each person with a station with all the ingredients set out. There were recipes and she was at the front to demonstrate the technique. There had been a few flour-bomb incidents but after a couple of interventions by the social worker they settled down and soon everyone had been absorbed in the tasks at hand. The scent of cinnamon and ginger pervaded the kitchen and Ethan had relaxed enough to start a conversation about the following day’s surf trip.
It had all happened so fast.
A dark-haired boy had been in discussion with his neighbour a blonde petite teenager. Ethan clocked the violent shake of her head and just as his antennae alerted him that there was trouble, the youth stepped too close. Uttered a profanity so crude Ruby’s head whipped round from where she’d been helping someone else. As Ethan headed over, the girl whipped out a flick knife.
Ethan’s lips straightened to grim as he strode forward but before he could get there Ruby had put herself directly in the girl’s path and Ethan’s gut froze. The girl looked feral, her pupils wide and he could only hope that she wasn’t doped up on anything.
The knife glinted in her hand. Behind Ruby, the dark-haired boy had tensed and Ethan knew any second now the situation would blow. No way would that boy be able to keep face if he backed down to a girl—the only reason he hadn’t launched yet was the fact that Ruby was in the middle.
She held her hand out to the girl. ‘Tara, give me the knife. No one is going to hurt you. Not now and not later. Not Max, not anyone.’ Ruby’s voice betrayed not a flicker of fear. She swept a glance at Ethan and gave a small shake of head and he slowed his stride. Ruby clearly didn’t want him to spook the girl. Instead Ethan ducked round so that he could manoeuvre Max out of the equation, saw the boy open his mouth and moved straight in.
‘Quiet.’ Max took one look and kept his mouth shut.
‘Come on, Tara,’ Ruby said. ‘It’s OK. Look round. You’re safe. Look at me. You have my word. Now give me the knife and it will all be fine.’
Tara had shaken her head. ‘It’ll never be fine,’ she stated with a flat despair that chilled Ethan’s blood. Then the knife fell to the floor, the clatter as it hit the tiles released some of the tension in the room. Ruby put her foot over the weapon, then stooped to pick it up.
‘You want to keep going?’ she asked Tara. ‘It’s OK. No repercussions.’ She turned to Max and there was something in her stance that meant business. ‘No repercussions,’ she repeated.
Next to him Ethan saw the social worker open his mouth as if to intervene and he stepped into action. ‘I second that. No repercussions from anyone. This is not what this all about. You guys want to make a difference to your lives. It starts here. And this incident ends here.’
‘Now back to baking,’ Ruby said.
Looking back now, it occurred to Ethan how seamlessly he and Ruby had acted together, so attuned to the nuances of the scene, the risks, the threat, the best way to defuse the tension.
Ruby picked up her mug and cradled it. ‘You know what she told me?’
Ethan shook his head. His chest panged at the pain sketched on Ruby’s features.
‘She told me she wished there had been repercussions. That if she’d ended up inside it would have been better for her than her life now.’
Ruby’s voice was sad and heavy with knowledge.
‘I don’t blame her for having that knife. Her home life makes mine look like a picnic in the park. Her dad is a violent loser and she is so damaged no carer can cope. That’s why she’s in a residential home. That’s why she reacted to Max like that—he was in her space and she panicked. Oddly enough after the incident Max tried to befriend her.’ She glanced at him. ‘Your doing?’
‘I did talk to him.’ He had tried to tell him there were other ways—told him that there were consequences to actions.
‘That’s fab, Ethan. Maybe they can help each other. I hope they’ll all come back in September. Once they let their guard down they were all so full of potential—I mean, did you see them after surfing? They had a blast.’
So had he. All the teenagers had been stoked to be in the water and he’d watched them—some of them carbon copies of himself and Rafael. Tough...so tough...and always out to prove it. Because if they didn’t there was the fear of being taken down. All swagger, all bravado—but up against the waves, up against the spray and the sea salt, they had met an element stronger than themselves that they could challenge with impunity. And they’d loved it. Enough, he hoped, to incentivise them to keep out of trouble until September.
A soft sigh escaped her lips. ‘I wish... I wish I could help. Take them all in and house the lot of them.’ She placed her empty plate down with a thunk. ‘Maybe one day I will. No—not maybe. Definitely.’
‘How are you going to do that?’
Her chin tilted. ‘I’m going to adopt,’ she said. ‘That’s my single parenthood plan.’
Maybe it shouldn’t surprise him—after all, Ruby had been in care and he understood why she would want to help children like the child she had been. Hey, he wanted to do that. But adoption by herself...
Her eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t think it’s a good plan?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Then what? You think I can’t hack it?’
‘I didn’t say that either.’
‘Then say something. What do you think?’
‘I think it’s a very, very big thing to take on.’ He raised a hand. ‘I’m not saying you couldn’t do it. I think you would be a fantastic person for any kid to have in their lives.’ And he meant that—he’d seen the way she’d interacted with all the kids, seen her capacity for care and love. ‘But taking on older children... It’s a huge commitment—especially on your own.’
‘I know that.’
There was no uncertainty in her voice and he couldn’t help but wonder at the depth of her need to do this even as he admired her confidence in herself. The idea of anybody—let alone a child...let alone a child who had already been through the system—being dependent on him for their well-being made his veins freeze over. To those kids Ruby would be their salvation, and he knew that saving wasn’t part of his make-up.
But concern still niggled. ‘You said you’d decided on single parenthood because you can’t pick good father material. Don’t you think you should rethink that strategy?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean why not open yourself up to the idea of a relationship? Find a man who will support you emotionally and be a great father to your family. You’re too young to give up on having love and a family.’
‘You have,’ she pointed out.
‘That’s because I don’t want love or a family. You can’t give up on something you’ve never wanted in the first place. You do want love—you’d never have been sucked in by Hugh or those other two losers otherwise.’
‘See?’ Tucking her legs beneath her, she jabbed her finger at him. ‘That’s exactly it. Three out of three losers. That’s a one hundred per cent miss rate. I can’t risk what is most important to me—having a family—by taking a side quest for love. Plus, if I pick wrong it could have a terrible effect on any children. I need to stay focused on my ultimate goal. I thought you of all people would get that. You want Caversham world domination and I want children. I won’t be sidelined by anything else.’
Well, what could he say to that?
‘I can see the “but” written all over your face, Ethan. I know it will be tough but it will be incredibly worthwhile.’ The finality in her tone suggested that any argument would be futile. ‘Like these past two days have been.’
‘Two days is one thing. A lifetime is another.’
He pressed his lips together. Ruby was right—she had her goal and he had his, and hers was none of his business. What did he know? It was not as if he thought love was a good idea, so why push Ruby towards it? He didn’t want the bright light of hope to be extinguished from those eyes by some idiot. But that wasn’t his problem or his decision to make—it was Ruby’s. So...
‘You’re right I think the past two days were a success—and a lot of that is thanks to you. The tree, the gifts, the food...and the karaoke carols were superb. You did a great job.’
Relief touched her face at the change of subject and he wondered if she regretted telling him of her plans.
‘So did you. Thanks muchly. And thanks for letting me be part of it.’ A glance at her watch and she straightened up in the chair. ‘Right. I’ll start the clear-up procedure and then I’ll be on my way. Leave you to your Christmas plans.’
Her voice was a smidge too breezy, and her eyes flicked away from his as she rose to her feet.
‘Don’t worry about clearing up,’ he said as he stood, his eyes fixed on her expression. ‘You’ve already spent so much time and effort on this—I want you to start your break as soon as possible.’
Deliberately casual, he stepped towards her.
‘Where did you say you were going, again?’
‘Um...’ For a heartbeat she twisted her finger into a stray curl, then met his gaze with cool aplomb. ‘I didn’t.’ As she moved towards the door she gave him a small smile. ‘Any more than you shared your plans.’
Her pace increased to escape speed and instantly he moved to bar her path.
‘That’s easily remedied. My plan is to stay here.’
Surprise skittered across her face. ‘Alone?’
‘Yup. My original plan was to host the teens over Christmas—when that changed I didn’t bother making different plans for Christmas Day. It’s just another day, after all. But I know you don’t agree with that. So what are your plans, Ruby?’
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she realised she’d walked straight into that. ‘I... Look, why does it matter to you?’
‘Because you have worked so hard, and made such a difference to those teenagers—I don’t want to think that doing that has ruined your plans.’
‘Oh. It hasn’t. Truly.’ A gust escaped her lips as he raised his eyebrows. ‘You aren’t going to let up, are you? Look, I haven’t got any specific plans. I never did.’
A slight look of surprise tilted her features.
‘It’s odd, actually. My original plan was to shut myself away with some weepie movies and a vat of ice cream. But now I don’t want to do that. In fact if I wanted to I could go out and paint the town red. Since your press release lots of people who had dropped me like the proverbial hot root vegetable are now keen to be my friend again. Or I could probably even rustle up an invite from a real friend. But I don’t really want to do any of that either. So I think I’ll just head home and use the time to relax. Read a book. Watch some sappy Christmas movies.’
Ever so slowly she started to edge around him for the door.
‘Not so fast.’ The idea flashed into his mind like a lightning bolt, zigzagged around and sparked a mad impulse. ‘I have a better idea.’
‘What?’
‘Let’s go away for Christmas.’
‘Who? You and me?’ Incredulity widened her eyes—clearly the idea was risible.
‘Yup. We’ve worked incredibly hard and we deserve a break. You said you wanted snow—how about the Alps?’
The realisation that he was making this up as he went along triggered a ring tone of alarm.
‘Are you serious?’
For a second excitement lit her blue eyes and Ethan ignored the warning blare of instinct—the reminder that mad impulses never ended well.
‘Of course I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Because... Well... We can’t just up and leave.’
‘Last time I looked I was the boss and I say we can.’
The idea gave him a sudden surge of exhilaration—the kind he usually felt on a surfboard. It morphed into a mad desire to take her hands and twirl her round the room. Which was every kind of nutty—from peanuts to Brazil. Rein it in, Ethan. What exactly was he suggesting, here?
Welcome rationalisation kicked in. ‘I’d like to check out the Alps anyway—as a possible Caversham location.’
‘But you haven’t even opened the castle yet.’
Ethan shrugged. ‘Gotta keep on moving, Ruby. I told you I want to make it big, and momentum is key.’
Plus, it made sense—it would make this a business trip and not a mad impulse at all. With any luck he’d get there, feel the buzz of a new venture—and the odd, unwanted emotions that Ruby stirred within him would dissipate. Come to that, once the ball was over—which was a few scant days away—he wouldn’t need to spend as much time here. He’d see Ruby less, and his life would regain its status quo.
‘So what do you think? Shall we go and get a feel for the place?’
Ruby wasn’t sure she could think. Or at least think straight. His idea had conjured up cosy warm scenes. Snow, mountain peaks, magical Christmas card scenery... Ethan and Ruby walking hand in hand...
As if.
Ruby hauled in a breath and instructed her brain to think, to oust the temptation that had slunk to the table—a late and uninvited guest at negotiations. Ethan had probably never held hands with anyone in his life, and the very fact that the picture had formed in her mind meant she needed to be on her guard.
In fact... ‘It’s a crazy idea.’
‘Why? We both deserve a break. I have a good gut feeling about the Alps as a Caversham location, you’ve done a lot of research into the Caversham ethos, and I’d value a second opinion from you.’
It all sounded so reasonable. His words slipped into her consciousness like honey. From a professional viewpoint her boss had asked her to go on a business trip. It was a no-brainer.
Plus, if she said no would he take someone else? A sudden vision of gorgeous blondes and curvy brunettes paraded in her brain and her nails scored into her palm in instinctive recoil.
‘I think it sounds fabulous. Let’s do it.’
Temptation gave a smug smile of victory and panic assailed her nerves. Because all of a sudden thrills of anticipation shot through her veins. Chill, Ruby. Who wouldn’t look forward to Christmas in the Alps? Obviously those little pulse-buzzes had zilch to do with the prospect of one-on-one time with Ethan. Because that would be personal. To say nothing of certifiably stupid.
Ethan nodded, his expression inscrutable. ‘Okay. I’ll check flights and we’ll take the first available one.’
‘Fantastic.’
Though it occurred to Ruby that this whole idea could be better filed under ‘Terminally Stupid’.
