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“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Wow.” And then she smiles, so bright it nearly takes me down. It’s a smile I don’t deserve, but damn, I eat it up. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to fall into a horse pen today, but it looks like that’s where we’re at.”
“Charlie.” She laughs and tilts her head like she’s examining me. “You made a joke.”
I grunt. “Yeah, well, I have my moments.”
Her eyes soften. “You should smile more. Because when you do, you look—” She breaks off in a wince. Her hand flutters up to press against her chest.
“You okay?” When I get no response, I duck my head to meet her eyes. “Ruby?”
In answer, her legs buckle.
I shoot a hand out and catch her around the waist, pulling her against me. In my arms, she’s small, barely reaching the middle of my chest.
Her head falls back on a gasp. “I’m fine.”
Bullshit. It’s the second time she’s done this since I met her.
Keeping her against my chest, I move her to the couch, where we both sit down. I brace her up against my shoulder, not trusting her to sit on her own. I run my gaze over her.
Fuck but her face is pale.
“You okay?” A knot moves up and down in my throat. “You didn’t get hurt out there, did you?”
My own fault if she did.
“No.” She gives a faint headshake. “I didn’t get hurt.” Cheeks stamped pink, her eyes flutter shut. “I need to sit for a second. I’ll be okay.”
I stiffen when she lays her head on my shoulder.
“Can I do this?” she asks.
I wrap my arm around her, tucking her in close. “Yeah, you can.”
Tiny and warm, she curls up against me. Her knees rest on my thigh and a little sigh pops out of her mouth. Jesus Christ, I’m getting a contact high from the feel of her. Needing a distraction, I let my eyes rove, taking in her delicate features. The soft pump of her pulse in her creamy white throat. Her dark lashes. Her bee-stung lips. She’s sexy. Beautiful.
Too beautiful for the ranch.
Too dangerous for me.
Once again, my eyes land on the vase of wildflowers. “You like flowers?” I ask.
As stupid as the question is, it’s something to distract us. Because right now, the only one talking is the erection trying to punch through the front of my fucking jeans.
She hums. “I do. My father owns a flower shop back in Carmel. I started a social media account for his company. Bloom’s Blooms.”
I chuckle. “What’s your favorite flower?”
“Sunflowers,” she says into my shoulder, and I feel her mouth curve as she smiles.
“Why sunflowers?” I could listen to the lively melody of Ruby’s voice for days.
“They’re perennials.” At my grunt, she elaborates. “They’re sturdy and happy and you couldn’t kill them if you tried. Every spring, when the conditions are right, the soil soft, the sun bright, they grow back to live again. Come hell or high water, they survive. That’s what I like about them.”
I decide I like them too. Because at this moment, anything that’s Ruby’s favorite is automatically mine.
An easy silence blankets the room.
