Page 37 of Show Me

“Hey.” The idea of someone bringing her flowers sits wrong. I shut that thought down fast. “Those yours?”

Her eyes follow mine. For a split second, something uneasy crosses her face before she smooths it away. “Looks like it.”

“From the same guy?”

“Probably.” Her mouth tenses up as she lifts a shoulder. “The lettering was the same as the one for the chocolates.”

The lettering was the same? “You mean to tell me you’ve received a second gift without a name attached?” This asshole has a lot of nerve.

“Yes.” She lifts a shoulder. “No one has claimed responsibility, but I assume it was Brent.”

I rest my hands on the counter, willing them not to ball into fists. “You need to tell him to stop.”

“I told him I wasn’t interested,” she says. “Again.”

The word sits between us like a warning. “Clearly, he needs a dictionary, or better yet, a more direct warning.”

She huffs a laugh, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “He’ll get the hint eventually.”

“Or he won’t.” I glance around the gym looking for the guy. I don’t know him, but I know what he looks like. Dark hair. Muscular, but not bulky. Sleeveless shirts. Always with the sleeveless T-shirts.

Her brow and nose wrinkle. “You’re being dramatic.”

He’s nowhere to be seen. My attention returns to the flowers, at the careful ribbon. At the way the card is tucked between the stems as if it belongs there. “I don’t like anonymous.”

Her brow furrows. “Not a fan of secret admirers?”

“People who don’t put their name on things are the same types of people who don’t take no for an answer. Not my favorite personality type.”

She studies me. “You’re making it bigger than it is.”

“Am I?”

“It’s flowers, Xavier.”

“It was chocolates on Saturday.”

She looks away, adjusting a stack of papers that don’t need adjusting. “I told you. It’s probably Brent.”

“But what if it isn’t him? What if it’s someone else you’ve never even thought about?”

“It has to be. No one else has asked me out.” She pauses for a moment. “Recently.”

Across the gym, someone drops a weight with a crash that rattles the mirrors. Ruby jumps, but neither of us looks.

“You don’t have to stay here.”

Her eyes snap back to mine. “Excuse me?”

“At the job.” I choose my words carefully. I know how independent Ruby is, but this is stalking behavior. And I don’t like it. Not Ruby specifically; I wouldn’t like it if it were happening to any woman. But it is Ruby. “If this guy keeps showing up. If he thinks this is okay.” I nod toward the flowers. “You don’t have to deal with that.”

She frowns and shakes her head. “I’m not quitting my job over a bouquet. That’s excessive.”

“I didn’t say quit.” I rotate my shoulders to ease the tension that settled there the second I saw the vase in front of her. “Just… consider your options.”

“What options? This is Brookhaven. It’s not like there’s a ton of jobs that come open every day.” Her brow furrows. “I don’t want to drive back and forth to the city.”

“Our office is a mess,” I add, like that explains anything. “Receptionist position is open. Dad’s drowning in paperwork. Phones ring off the hook. No one knows the clients.”