“I need help.”
“You got it.”
And that’s the exact moment I knew Ruby wasn’t just my new friend. She was the person I had needed in my life more than I ever knew.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RUBY
I hadn’t planned on seeing Ty Walker that evening. I had spent a weird late afternoon with Dak, touring his house and meeting his dog. Somehow it felt significant, but I wasn’t ready to attach anything to what exactly that significance was.
Truth was, Dak scared me.
And then there was Ty—a perfectly nice guy who made me feel wanted, pretty, and all the things I thought I needed in life. A perfectly nice guy who could possibly be the dirtiest scoundrel this side of the Mississippi. And I have to say, there is a lot of land on this side of the Mississippi River.
But I wasn’t sure if Ty knew what his father was up to, though it was hard to believe he wouldn’t know. And I wasn’t even certain that I wanted to date him anyway. Yeah, that night at the gala I had sort of fallen into a serious crush, but Dak had played with my emotions, smudging up my plan to find a guy who could make me a better person.
So when Ty called and suggested we meet up for drinks, I stupidly said yes even though I wasn’t totally enthusiastic. In hindsight, I had probably agreed because I wanted to check myself on how I felt about Dak, and the best way to see if those heartstrings had indeed been plucked was to sit on a stool in a fancy restaurant, swilling expensive wine with a rich pretty boy.
Obvs.
“So how was your day?” Ty asked, looking earnest in his soft cotton button-down and dress slacks. The shirt fit him like someone had sewn it right on to him and was unbuttoned at the neck to show that sexy dip between the collarbone. His jaw was smooth and suitably manly, and he smelled like a pullout sample from Town & Country magazine. Total-package kind of guy . . . but what was beneath all that fancy ribbon?
“It was good. I closed early and met Cricket at a bar. I didn’t drink, though, so I’m not sloshed or anything. Cricket’s been going through a rough patch lately.” Ah, there I went, doing a bit of testing of a different body of water.
“Oh? Like how?”
He was interested. Hmm. “Just her marriage and stuff. Her husband is a bit of a dick.”
“Scott?” Ty lifted a finger at the bartender, ordering another bourbon. “I think he’s a nice guy. He’s, you know, like every other guy my dad’s age—still trying to keep the juice up—but he’s all right. They having marriage trouble, huh?”
I needed to be careful here. “Yeah, I guess. Cricket’s kind of private. She seems to think he’s up to something.”
Ty’s gaze shifted away from me, and perhaps there was a little tightening of his jaw? Interesting. “Like cheating on her? Or . . . something else?”
I shrugged. “Nah, I don’t think she thinks he’s cheating. I think she just feels like their marriage needs work, but he’s been really distracted lately, so I think she may be concerned. I’m just her sounding board on ways to jazz things up.”
He looked relieved. Maybe. “Like in the bedroom? That’s crossing the line, isn’t it?”
“Oh, because I’m her employee? Yeah. I suppose. But we’re friends.”
“Well, that’s good. Scott’s been a friend of my dad’s for a while. Scott was my uncle Sam’s best friend back in the day. He’s been helpful to my dad, just introducing him to friends and stuff. I would hate to think Cricket is, you know, thinking he’s a bad guy.”
“Well, I’ve never been impressed by him. Glad you like him, though.”
Ty shrugged. “He’s cool. I guess. And it’s good you get along well with your boss.”
“Yeah, Cricket is really helping me put together a plan for my business. And no worries, I can’t really help anyone in the bedroom, so we don’t go there.” I gave him a self-deprecating laugh with the intention of steering him away from talk about Cricket having suspicions. I had done the litmus test, and it felt very evident to me that talk of the Crosbys made him nervous. Which seemed to point to him knowing exactly what his old man was up to. Which made him suddenly not attractive at all.
But if Cricket could lie beside Scott every night, pretending to be a loving wife, then surely I could pretend to like Ty enough to glean any information that might help Cricket nail not only her asshole of a husband but also the chief douchebag and his mini-me son who was sitting in this spendy bar no doubt buying me overpriced drinks on someone’s hard-earned retirement. Maybe. My gut was good at telling me exactly who people were.