The Light Between Us (4 page)

She'd
hurt
him
?  Could she really possess this power?  She couldn't fathom it. 

Ruth shook off the shock and kept moving.  Outside, she stood on the sidewalk, breathing deep, feeling her lungs expand more fully out in the fresh air, gulping the crisp scent of fall down to her depths.

What the hell was wrong with her?  Could she have misread his gesture?  A perfectly fine – no, a perfectly
fine
– man had showed an interest in her, and she'd gone running for the hills at the tiniest trigger? 

It didn't matter.  Even if the kiss had not been what she thought it was, he was probably still  another disappointment in the relationship department.  Aside from her novel characters, she'd had yet to meet a man who was anything else.  Ruth shook her head at herself, sure that she should have known better, and stepped forward to flag down a cab. 

Chapter 3

Derek's eyes shot open, awakening a shock.  He choked on a gasp, feeling like he was shooting up out of unfathomable deeps at even more impossible speed, the morning light harsh against his eyes.  He squinted up at the white ceiling of his bedroom, taking stock of his body as he lay strewn across the king sized bed dressed in the finest gray Egyptian cottons, skin crawling at the unsettling sensation of not being sure he was quite whole. 

Something, there was something off.  Or maybe just different.  Something he needed to remember.  He frowned, trying to place what was amiss but finding no purchase on his bleary brain, all attempts at recollection like fingers sliding across a dome of wet glass. 

A figure groaned and stirred next to him.  “Hey, baby,” came the sleepy voice of a woman. 

His pulse quickened. 
This
felt so wrong – the truth of that stood stark and clear in his mind, for all other lack of certainty.  This woman shouldn't be in his bed.  He had no doubt that he'd invited her into it, but he was sure that this wasn't the woman that belonged there.  That he wanted there. 

He dragged his fingers through his hair.  Damn it, why couldn't he remember?  What was going on with his brain?  With
him
?  He handled his liquor well, so he felt confident that this fog wasn't born of overindulgence.

The woman at his side rolled over, snuggling up next to Derek.  Blonde, he saw.  Another blonde.  It was all that he could do not to shudder, to shove her away, to flee from between the bed covers.  This woman had opened up her body to him, after all.  She deserved better than the inexplicable revulsion he felt.  Not because she was wrong, but because somehow all women felt wrong. 

And yet, that thought didn't feel quite true either.  Close, though. 

“
How'd you sleep?” she murmured. 

He shrugged, wishing he was just slightly more of an asshole and could shrug her away.  “Deep.” 

“
Mmm,” she said, lips curling up into a feline smile.  “Deep.  Just like you went deep into me last night . . . and this morning.” 

Derek swallowed.  Those kind of scintillating words should be enough to get him hard.  They normally would be.  But in this moment they fell on him like icy streams of water. 

“
Uh, yeah,” he said.  “Like that.”

She tipped her mouth up to his ear, breath hot against its curves.  “Want to go again?  I woke up wet for you.” 

“
Um.  I have to . . . work.”  He snatched at the first excuse he could think of, cringing at the lie.  He mostly dealt with divorce cases, which almost never required going into the office on weekends.  But she didn't know that.

The woman sat back on her elbow.  “But it's Saturday.”

“
Yeah, I know, it sucks,” said Derek, untangling himself from the covers and her limbs and sliding out of bed, pulling on jeans and a shirt as fast as he could.  “I'm really sorry.  You can use the shower before you go if you want.”

“
Nice.”  She launched out of bed, angrily grabbing her own clothes from the hardwood floor where they had been unceremoniously discarded the night before.  “Don't do me any favors.  Maybe I can grab an extra shift at work.  Obviously I'm not worth your time.” 

“
Sorry,” he offered again, not sure if he was apologizing more to her or to his own confused self.  He wondered if he'd already asked where she worked.  Better not chance inquiring now, just in case.  He slipped out of the bedroom, heading to the kitchen, putting the coffee on. 

The scent of percolating coffee steadied him, but did nothing to alleviate the guilt gnawing at his insides.  For as many women as he bedded, he prided himself on how he could almost always part amicably with his partners while making it clear that their tryst had been a one-time engagement.  He hated that this woman was leaving mad.

She emerged from the bedroom and stalked into the kitchen to grab her purse. 

“
Want some coffee before you go?” he offered, gesturing to the brewing liquid and groping in his brain for her name, but coming up with nothing. 

“
No thanks,” she snapped.  “Fucker.”  She stomped out of the kitchen and he felt the door's slam reverberate through the apartment.  He sighed. 

Something on the counter caught his eye.  A cocktail napkin, he saw, that had been hiding beneath the woman's purse.  A number and a name were scrawled on it – Ruth.

Ruth
.

The name inundated his senses with memory, warm yet crystalline and wholly welcome.  He leaned against the counter as the missing pieces of his night came back – the curly haired woman who had so captured him, sitting alone at her table while her friends danced, then coming to flirt with him, only to leave abruptly and without explanation.  He'd wracked his brain, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong, but couldn't find any fault.  All he knew was that he'd kissed her hand in what he thought to be a gentlemanly gesture, and Ruth had practically run for it.  And then after she'd gone, one of her friends – Padme, maybe? – had come over offering the napkin, encouraging him to give her a call sometime. 

He suddenly felt like he could take a full breath for the first time since he'd awoken, and gulped the air down as his muscles limbered with relief.  He wasn't going crazy.  Well, not totally crazy, anyway.  Not yet. 

Derek picked up the napkin, staring at the woman's name.  Ruth.  Even that intrigued him.  Such an old fashioned, uncommon name.  It made him want to learn more about her – to learn everything. 

The coffeemaker beeped to signal that a full, steaming carafe of caffeine awaited, bringing him out of his reverie.  He shook his head as he poured himself a large mug of the black liquid, sipping the acrid comfort. 

Why was he so interested in this woman?  She couldn't be all that different from any of the other many women he'd known intimately over the years.  Right?  There was nothing about her that he could point to that would account for his interest, for his considering deviating from his usual one night stands in favor of something more.  Something deeper.

He stared down into his cup of coffee.  It had been dancing around the edges of his consciousness, he supposed, but this was the first time he'd admitted to himself – he wanted something with this woman, this Ruth.  Something real, something softly scary.  Something that he'd always avoided.  He wanted a relationship.  With her. 

Derek didn't know why, or why with her.  He figured that pursuing such a thing was likely a huge mistake, destined to leave him burned or disappointed or both. 

But he wanted it nonetheless.  He wanted to call her.  He wanted to call her right now and ask her out for breakfast.

He blinked, excitement and that unfamiliar nervousness stirring in his belly at the idea.  Why not?  Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was nearly ten.  Surely that wasn't too early to call on a Saturday?  It might be a bit late for breakfast, but there was always brunch, or just coffee.

Drawing in a deep breath, he grabbed his phone and dialed. 

* * *

Her phone chattered to life on her nightstand, pulling Ruth up out of the stubborn doze she clung to, cocooned in her bed covers against the mid-morning light filtering in through her apartment window. 

“
Ugh,” she informed her phone, stretching.  Who could be calling her?  She flailed her arm out toward the phone's sound, groping for it, hoping it was just a wrong number and not an emergency.  What else could bring someone to call her on a Saturday morning?

Her fingers found purchase on the phone, and she fumbled with it for a moment before managing to answer it.  “Hello?” she said, hoping it didn't sound like she was still in bed at – she glanced at the clock – ten o'clock in the morning.  She cringed, then wondered why she even cared.

“
Hi, is this Ruth?” said a man's voice on the other end, somehow simultaneously familiar and not. 

“
Yes?”

The man cleared his voice.  “Hi,” he said again, “this is Derek.”

She grimaced.  “Oh.  Um.  I'm sorry, Derek who?”

“
From last night.  At Czar's.”

Ruth's eyes shot open as she sat up in bed.  Holy shit.  Derek.  From Czar's.  The super hot guy that she'd walked out on.  Was on the phone.  With her. 

“
Hello?” came his voice.  “Are you still there?”

“
Oh.  Yes.  Sorry.  I'm here,” she choked out.
 

“
Good,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.  “Listen, I know this is last minute, but I was wondering if you'd like to join me for some brunch.”

“
Oh,” said Ruth, wishing she could come up with a slightly more intelligent response.

“
If you haven't eaten, of course,” he added.

“
No, I haven't eaten,” she said, trying to wrap her mind around the situation.

“
Well, if you'd like, we could meet at The Brew.  It's this nice little spot near Harvard Square --”

“
I know it,” she said.  “It's one of my favorite spots, actually.” 
Are you kidding me?
she thought.  This insanely attractive man not only hadn't been totally turned off by her behavior last night, but was also inviting her out to her favorite place to eat?  Ruth was glad she was sitting on her bed, because she felt fairly certain she would have been having trouble standing if she wasn't. 

“
Great!” he said.  “So, see you there in, say, an hour?”

She shook her head, willing her brain to keep up.  “Wait, how the hell did you get my number?”

“
I got it from your friend – er, Padme is her name, I think?”

Ruth cringed at the idea of Derek drawing her contact info out of her friends.  “That's . . . weird.”

She heard him chuckle on the other end.  “Yeah, I suppose it is.  I was just as surprised as you sound.”

Ruth frowned.  “Hang on.  She gave it to you?” 

“
Yep,” he said.  Against all logic, this piece of knowledge ignited a flickering flame of willingness within her.

“
I walked out on you, though,” she pointed out. 

Silence stretched over the line for a moment before he said in a lower tone, “Yes.”

“
So . . . why are you calling me?  Why would you
want
to?”

Another hesitation.  “I don't know.  I guess – there's something about you.  Something good.”  He paused, and Ruth imagined him smiling, her stomach turning somersaults within her at the thought.  “I guess I'm hoping that was just a fluke or something.  Your friend seemed to think it was.” 

She would
, Ruth thought, not sure if she should be mad at Padme, or thankful. 

“
Okay,” she heard herself say.  “The Brew at eleven.”

“
Perfect,” said Derek, and she could practically feel the glow coming off his smile and through the phone.  “See you soon.” 

The line clicked dead, and Ruth sat in bed, staring down at the phone in her hand.  She could hardly believe what had just happened, and felt fairly certain that she was making a massive error.  Then she saw that she had less than an hour to get ready, and she leaped out of bed and dashed into the bathroom to get the shower running, pausing only to shoot a text off to Padme:
You've got some 'splaining to do, Lucy
.

* * *

Ruth didn't see Derek when she ducked into The Brew.  Her pulse managed to throb even faster than it already was. 
I knew it
, she thought. 
He's stood me up.  This is all a big joke
.  She glanced at the clock on her cell phone and saw that it was only just eleven.  She ordered two coffees, holding her breath at her own audacity as she paid, then slid into a booth that offered a view of the Harvard Square sidewalk while retaining a more private feel.