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Chapter Six
Ruby felt lost without her phone. It was ridiculous how important that stupid small item had become. She often joked about couples coming to her mother’s restaurant to enjoy a posh meal and then sit across from each other feverishly working on their phones.
Her mother’s usual remark of “What the hell is the world coming to?” resonated with her, but she’d be damned if she’d give Jill the satisfaction of knowing how close their opinions matched. Her mother had enough to hold over her – especially after yesterday’s baby announcement… Damnation!
Sneering over her mourning for the small black item she often scorned, she gave herself a talking to. Seriously? Get a life, woman.
No doubt the FBI stunner would contact her, and she’d get it back. She just wished he’d get on with it. This waiting was driving her crazy. Maybe she should call her number, and he’d answer. Would he agree to meet?
Spending the rest of the day chasing down a cop friend she’d gone to school with, who never seemed to be available, she’d ended up doing house chores to pass the time.
Arriving at the restaurant and seeing her mother’s disparagement of her ratty old jeans and t-shirt, she sighed loud enough that no words were necessary… back off, Mom, came through loud and clear. She didn’t need this harassment on top of everything else.
Surprised that her mother would even go there – Jill usually cut Ruby some slack when she knew she had other pressures – she decided to ignore her vexation rather than walk out. Something didn’t feel right. She better stick around and put up with the shit.
Eyes dangerous, and her speech snappish, her mom started in on her. “Couldn’t you make an effort for once, Ruby? You know my clientele dress for the occasion to eat here.” Jill wore a classy beige dress, that swung out with every step and the pleated bodice made a wonderful backdrop for the multitude of gold chains that adorned it.
Trying not to be too snippy, Ruby answered back. “I’m not a customer, nor am I your staff, Mom. I’ll eat in the back if my look offends you.”
Ignoring Ruby’s threat, she said, “True. My staff dress better than you do.” Obviously feeling the rising temperature in her daughter’s attitude, Jill added, “Just saying…” But her stiff back, loud sniff, and next words let Ruby know why her customary outfit mattered. “An Agent Storm called to say he would be dropping by with your phone. I invited him for dinner. You can stay and eat with us if you won’t be too embarrassed to be seen like that.”
Head held a bit too high for it to come off naturally, Jill stomped off on her high heels with her pissiness obvious to all. Certainly, it came through clearly to Ruby, and she felt a wicked satisfaction for getting her unflappable mom to react.
No way in hell would she change now. In fact, she took extra satisfaction in looking like a sloth. Until, that is, his royal sleekness appeared and every female head in the joint swiveled, eyes popped, and tongues watering.
Oh, for Christ’s sake. He’s just a man. She leaned back against the booth her mother and her used as their own and tried to wipe the sour expression off her face. She almost succeeded until Jill swept by as if greeting royalty, coming close to bowing at the well-dressed cowboy.
Christ almighty. No way she would sit across the dinner table from him. No fucking way.
***
It wasn’t two minutes later that her mother sailed into the kitchen, interrupted her joking with her favorite cook, and ordered Ruby in a voice she couldn’t ignore.
“You get back into that restaurant and thank Mr. Storm for his generosity in delivering your phone rather than making you chase all over hell’s half-acre to get it yourself.”
“Not necessary. Just tell him thanks, feed him, and let him leave. I don’t want to see him.”
“Because you’re dressed like a street punk? I told you there were times it wouldn’t hurt you to appear like the successful woman you truly are. And look at your crazy hair, will you? Why did you make all those braids? They stick out everywhere like you stuck your finger in an electric socket. In case you didn’t notice that man is gorgeous, and his manners are impeccable. It won’t do for you to be rude. I won’t have it. My daughter—”
Not able to stand another second of Jill’s tirade and knowing from experience it could go on forever, she backed up with her hands out in front, cutting Jill off, and pleaded, “Okay. O-kay. For Christ’s sake, Mom—”
“Hey, I’ve told you before, you watch your tongue with that little darling inside you, listening to your poopy mouth. Now go into my bathroom, comb your hair, release all your natural curls, and come out and join us. I mean it, Ruby.”
Ruby itched to keep on walking, right out of the joint, and she would have if her mother hadn’t looked truly stressed.
Son of a bitch! Isn’t it bad enough to find herself pregnant without her involvement or consent, and now she’s forced to eat with a cowboy who had good reason to sneer at her? That damn kiss! Why the hell she attacked him in the first place, she’d never know.
Maybe the shock of finding out about her condition had stunned her sensibilities. She’d never done anything like that before. More than likely, it was the look on her stalker’s face that prompted her weird behavior. She’d known that man had intentions of approaching her, and she had no interest in anything he had to say.
Checking the mirror over her mother’s sink, she made up her mind. All that mattered to her right now was retrieving her phone and making the appointment through regular channels that she’d decided to set up with the local chief of police rather than relying on old acquaintances.
Don Ulmer had been to her firehouse many times over the years, and she trusted him. Though in his forties, he’d recently become a father himself and liked to brag and show photos of his newborn. He’d help her… she had no doubt.
Earlier prayers surfaced… there had to be something he could investigate about her situation. There must be other women who found themselves in similar situations. Why would she be the only one?
Plus, he’d believe her when she told him that she had no idea how she got to be in this condition… and many others wouldn’t.
Ripping out the braids she’d let one of her crew’s young daughters put in at the Firehall, she had to use water to tame the curls before she could get them to look decent and not as if she’d recently seen a ghost.
