pause and my eyes turn so wide, I’m certain they’ve consumed my entire face. I’m literally just a head with two giant eyeballs connected to a woman who just got loopholed by Caplin fucking Hawkins. “I can’t believe you just did that, you bastard!” I smack his shoulder with my hand. “That was not fair!”
“How was that not fair?” he questions with a sly grin. “You agreed to let me lead the conversation. I’m certain you didn’t apply any rules on where I could and couldn’t lead it.”
I narrow my eyes, but he just keeps on grinning.
“You might as well just tell me the rest, Ruby.” He shrugs one annoying shoulder at me. “I mean, I have the first name and the first two letters of the last… At this point, it probably wouldn’t be too hard for me to figure it out on my own…”
Goddammit.
“Ugh.” I groan. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”
“I would like to let the record reflect that I simply asked a question. One that was not out of malicious intent, but actually because I just wanted to get to know you better,” he says, going all fucking lawyer on me. “So, I think the whole jerk statement should be struck from the court documents.”
“God, you’re annoying, you know that?”
“I’m pretty sure you mean I’m persistent.” He quirks a knowing brow. “So…?”
He doesn’t have to finish the question. I already know what he’s getting at.
And because I really don’t see any way around it, and I’m probably a bit insane, I tell him the one thing I never tell anyone. Not my mom or dad. Not Kevin. No one.
“Elizabeth Aster.” I say my pseudonym out loud. To someone else. “It was my late grandmother’s name. And she is one of the main reasons I love reading romance novels.”
“I like it.” His caramel eyes stare down at me with the kind of intensity that has goose bumps rolling up my arms. “The name and the reason for it.”
Before I can open up my lips to add a very important disclaimer, he beats me to it. “And consider your secret safe with me. In my vault. Under lock and key. Never to be told to anyone else.”
“Promise?”
“Ruby, I swear.”
For some crazy reason, I don’t doubt his words. I actually believe him.
He smiles down at me, and there’s something in it—something personal and intimate—that gives me pause. Something that makes my shoulders tense and my back go ramrod straight. Something that has spurred one too many questions inside my head, and I can no longer avoid it.
I squint up at him and tilt my head to the side. “What exactly is going on here, Cap? The whole makeover, the party…” I nod at our bodies. “The dancing.”
“Do we really have to call it something specific?” He avoids cleverly. “Can’t we just enjoy it for what it is?”
Unfortunately for him, I’ve heard that kind of line before, from a guy I met in undergrad, and I’m not all too fond of the blasé sentiment. “God. What is it with men and wanting to avoid labels?” I lower my voice to the timbre of a man and continue, “We don’t need labels, babe. What we have can’t be labeled.” I snort and roll my eyes. “This is about our connection. Not our relationship status,” I mock further.
“Are you saying we’re in a relationship?” Cap says excitedly—playfully—pulling my body into his.
I shake my head and slap his arm. “Cap, I’m serious!”
“I can tell, doll. In fact, I can tell you’re serious most of the time.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing,” he says seriously. “I’m just trying to enjoy the moment with you. And I wish you would do the same.”
Enjoy the moment. Can I do that?
“I-I…” I stammer a minute before putting my thoughts into vulnerable words I’m not completely sure I don’t want to take back. “I don’t know if I can.”
His bright eyes hold mine, a soft smile cresting just one corner of his mouth. It’s human and understanding and completely unexpected from Caplin Hawkins.
He is tough and bold and bright in every way possible.
But in this moment, here on the dance floor with me…he’s tender.
“Just try,” he says gently, sweeping a warm hand along my hip, bringing it up and rubbing the backs of his knuckles along my cheek.
I’m not sure where the impulse comes from, or how it happens, but there isn’t even a question about my reaction—I lean into his touch.