Why Resist a Rebel - By Leah Ashton Page 0,55

he made a decision.

Tomorrow things would change. Not because he’d crossed his fingers or shouted into his brain that it would, but because he’d just lied to Ruby.

And he didn’t want to do that again.

I want you to be.

Finally, he slept.

TWELVE

Late on Wednesday afternoon—two days later—Dev knocked on his mother’s front door. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans to stop himself fidgeting, but it was a pretty useless gesture.

He was nervous.

He’d chartered another jet, and the entire flight he’d bounced his legs, or tapped his toes or something. Now he turned around on the spot, looking out onto the manicured front garden and his nondescript hire car, taking deep, relaxing breaths.

This really wasn’t a big deal. It was his mum, and—despite everything—he knew she loved him.

Behind him the door rattled—the sound of the brass chain lock being undone, the click of the deadbolt, the twist of the door handle.

By the time the door opened, he was staring at it, waiting.

‘Devlin!’ his mum exclaimed, once again with a smile broader than he deserved. Then she paused. ‘Is everything okay?’

She looked momentarily stricken, and he wanted to kick himself. Was a disaster the only reason she could imagine him visiting her unannounced?

Well, given the past fourteen years—probably.

‘Everything’s fine. Everyone’s fine, as far as I know.’

She nodded, then opened the door wide. ‘Well, come in! I was just going through the photos from my party. It was so wonderful to have you there.’

He nodded automatically, then reached out, grabbing his mum’s hand and holding it tight.

‘Mum, I’d like to talk to you about Dad.’

Instantly he saw the pain in her eyes, but she squeezed his fingers tighter.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Because I’ve got something I want to show you.’

Dev had cancelled dinner last night, and as Ruby walked to his front door late on Wednesday evening she wasn’t sure what to expect.

Tuesday morning had been...eye-opening. When his alarm went off Dev just kept on sleeping, and it wasn’t until she’d given him a decent shake that he’d finally woken.

He’d looked unhappy to see her, though. As if he’d wished the night had never happened, that she’d never seen him like that.

She’d felt like such an idiot, as the final pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. That morning a few weeks back when she and Graeme had nearly bashed the front door down, Dev hadn’t been sleeping in. He hadn’t been so arrogant to believe his needs were more important than the rest of the cast and crew.

Something serious was going on with Dev, and she’d been at first oblivious—and then later deliberately dismissive—of the signs.

She’d been scared by how close she’d felt herself get to him, so she’d kept her distance.

Yeah, that was the word: scared.

But now what was she to do? All she could offer him was two more weeks. That was all she had. And she desperately wanted to help.

Now wasn’t that a contradiction? So worried for Dev her heart ached, but so sure she had to leave.

He’d left the front door ajar, so she pushed it open, her heeled boots loud on the hallway’s floorboards.

‘Dev?’

He called out from the kitchen, and so that was where she headed. He sat at the rustic dining table, cutlery, a bottle of wine and two glasses set out neatly. On his placemat only, however, lay a battered-looking notebook. He stood as she walked into the room.

‘What’s all this for?’ she asked, taking in the soft lighting, and the scent of something delicious bubbling on the stove.

‘I cooked,’ he said, then added when she must have displayed her scepticism, ‘Really. I make a mean puttanesca.’

She smiled, his enthusiasm completely infectious. ‘Lucky me.’

He bent to kiss her, his lips firm. It was more than a quick hello kiss, and when they broke apart Ruby’s heart was racing. Without thinking she brought her hand to her chest, and his lips quirked at the gesture.

‘Me, too,’ he said.

Dev wouldn’t let her help as he confidently moved about the kitchen, so she propped a hip against the bench, and watched him as she sipped her wine.

They chatted about the day on set—about the temporary disaster of Arizona falling off the horse she was riding, the director’s latest tantrum, and even the glorious cool but sunny weather.

But not the little notebook on the table.

Ruby would glance at it every so often, and after a while Dev grinned. ‘I was going to explain while we ate—but you can go grab it if you like.’

She didn’t need