Rebel (28 page)

“I’m fine, I just—”

“You’re not driving this angry.” She repeated his own earlier words deliberately. “Give me the keys.”

Wes shoved them into her open hand feeling defeated and strode to the passenger’s door. “You should be just as angry.”

When the car chirped, he yanked open the door and slid into the seat, every muscle taut. He flattened his injured hand over his knee and stared down at the blood. He had a couple of good cuts over his knuckles. One he was pretty sure needed stitches. God, what a fucking dumb shit. His emotions had been strung out since he’d first kissed Rubi. He’d ignored them. Convinced himself he could deal. That he could handle her, handle himself, handle something between them. Now look at him.

Rubi shut her door but didn’t start the engine. “Listen for a minute.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “When I saw how amazing the rig—”

“I don’t give a fuck about the rig—”

“Shut. Up.” She turned blazing green eyes on him. “Please, Wes. I need to tell you this.”

He pushed pent-up air out of his mouth, clenched his teeth, and stared through the windshield.

“I wanted to get a sense of how marketable it would be. I knew the quality was there, but I don’t know the rehabilitation market. All Dolph’s businesses started with one—selling inventions. And that continues to be the basis of his empire. All his other companies—consulting, manufacturing, sales, shipping—have stemmed from that one, which continues to feed the rest. Knowing the value of an invention is Dolph’s specialty.”

“What the
fuck
does this have to do with—”

“I’m not finished,” she said, her voice steely. “And if you want to walk home, interrupt me one more time.”

He pulled the door handle.

She grabbed his arm. “God
dammit
, Wes. I’m trying to tell you something
important
.”

The catch in her voice stopped him.

“I have several contacts of my own,” she continued, “who could take your rig and run with it. But before I approached you with the idea, I wanted to know just how viable this would be on the market. It’s a long road from idea to production. Most of which you’ve already covered on your own. But things can go bad along the way. I’ve seen many dreams crushed, and with it their creators’ hearts. I didn’t want to get your hopes up and then end up disappointing you.”

He turned to look at her. “You’re not hearing me. I’ve never thought of selling it. I don’t give a fuck about doing anything with it but helping Wyatt.”

“And you’re not hearing me. I’m not talking thousands, Wes. I’m talking millions. Millions and millions. I’m talking about you being able to buy houses like Jax’s any time you wanted. I’m talking about never worrying about money for the rest of your life.”

Wes’s gut went cold. He dropped his head back, and his gaze slid up the glass monolith her father owned. “You’d let me do business with that fucker? Just for the money?”

“God, you’re dense.” Rubi sounded as twisted as Wes felt. “I’m telling you I was using him as a gauge before I suggested you go with
someone
else
. I’d
never
suggest you do business with him.”

“And what if I said the money doesn’t interest me? That I’d rather have you than any amount of money?”

“I’d say one doesn’t have anything to do with the other.” She paused, then turned the engine over, but when she spoke, her voice was softer, filled with complex emotions Wes couldn’t pull apart. “I’d say you’re too idealistic and too shortsighted for an almost-thirty-year-old living in Los Angeles, working in the movie industry. I’d tell you to open your eyes and look down the road. I’d remind you that, in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re in a dangerous line of work, with no backup. I’d point out how quickly that million will go if you’re hurt and out of work for any length of time. So I’d say you might want to pull your shortsighted, romantic head out of your ass, stop paying so much attention to today, and start focusing on tomorrow.

“And I’d pass on some important advice I got when I was at the top of my modeling career.” She cast a flat glance toward him. “You won’t always be young, healthy, and beautiful. Use your best years wisely.”

“Who gave you that advice?” he asked dully.

“Lexi.”

The thirty-five-floor, smoky-mirror-lined building in the heart of downtown Los Angeles, a building worth hundreds of millions of dollars, slipped out of his view. The dark sky filled his vision, but for some bizarre reason, his parents’ ranch-style home on a farm in Podunk Missouri filled his mind’s eye. And in a sudden flash of dread, Wes saw himself and Rubi as mismatched as the buildings.

His body released its tension, and he sank into the cradle of the luxury sedan’s molded leather seats. A car Jax had bought for Lexi. Yeah, he had some money packed away in low-risk investments, but Rubi was right—a million dollars wasn’t all that much money nowadays. Wes sure as hell couldn’t begin to fathom the ability to purchase a home like Jax’s or Rubi’s fathers’. His mind backpedaled and replayed Rubi’s monologue on his finances. His future. And he recognized a new gut-level discomfort. One stemming not only from the cultural variance existing between him and Rubi, but divergent classes as well. None of which mattered in the moment, he knew. But with the realization of his deepening feelings for her…might end up mattering in the long-term. Something that obviously mattered significantly to Rubi. He had the uncomfortable sensation of walls closing in on him. Of being trapped by someone else’s expectations. Of taking a direction he didn’t want because someone he loved wanted him to take that path.

Wes trudged back to the present, feeling strangely distant, a dull fire burning in the pit of his stomach, one that created an ache instead of a burn.

They drove back to Malibu, a fifty-minute trip, without speaking. Without music. Both lost in their own thoughts. Still, Wes couldn’t say it had been an uncomfortable ride. Just…quiet. Settling. And by the time Rubi pulled into Jax’s driveway, he ached from the stress. His heart felt bruised. His chest empty. And all he wanted to do was refuel by sliding into bed with Rubi. By falling asleep, his body tangled with hers.

She pulled into the garage, tapped the door closed, and turned off the engine. “We’ll have Lexi look at your hand. If you don’t need the ER, I’ll take Rodie home.”

He was halfway out of the car when he froze. “I told you Rodie could stay here.” Which was when he realized her meaning, and a fresh surge of disquiet slid in. “You said you’d stay with me.”

She gave him a truly mystified expression. “Why would you want me to stay?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

She shot him a glare. “That’s an inappropriate answer, but considering the night, I’m giving you a pass.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. Just drop it.”

Fuck-ing A.
He just kept screwing up.

The door between the house and the garage opened. Lexi stood there in jeans and a black tank, her long blonde hair in some kind of messy knot on the back of her head. She took one look at Wes, her gaze sliding toward his hand as if she had injury radar. “You’re bleeding?
Again?
” She stepped back to let Rubi pass, then Wes. “I hope that was at least for Dolph’s face.”

“No such luck,” he muttered on his way to the kitchen.

Rodie broke away from Rubi, where she was hugging him in the living area, and ran to Wes, jumping on his hind legs in excitement. Wes lifted his bad hand out of the way and petted Rodie with the other. “Hey, boy.”

“Lex,” Rubi said, “Can you check his hand, see if he needs to go to the hospital?”

Jax strolled in and pressed his forearms to the kitchen granite. He frowned at Wes’s hand. “Doesn’t look too bad. Can you still drive that stunt tomorrow before your plane leaves?”

“No,” Rubi said.

At the same time Wes returned, “Of course.”

And they scowled at each other.

“Do you have a ride to the airport?” Jax asked.

Wes glanced at Rubi. She’d said she would take him, but now…

“Contestants to your corners,” Lexi said. “Wes, this way.”

Wes moved down the length of the expansive granite counter and rich cherry cabinets. Lexi pulled a cardboard box from an upper cabinet and rummaged through the medical contents on the counter. “Rinse your hand off. What did you hit?”

He lifted the handle on the tap, waited until the water was warm, and gritted his teeth before he stuck his hand under the stream. “A mirror.”

“Next time, save that for the stunts,” Jax said, “where mirrors aren’t mirrors.”

Once the blood cleared from his skin, he found at least two deep cuts along his knuckles. “Shit.”

Lexi came up beside him. Inspected his hand. “Up to you. I’ve got skin glue and Steri strips. I can patch you up in ten minutes, or you can go spend four hours in the ER.”

“Glue and tape, please.”

Rubi pushed to her feet. “I’m going to head home, then.”

Wes covered Lexi’s hands. “Just leave this junk out. I’ll do it when I get back.”

“You don’t need to walk me home,” Rubi said.

“Don’t argue.” Wes dried his hand on a paper towel, leaving blood splotches on the crisp white surface. “My mother would bean me if I didn’t walk my girl home.”

He expected her to bitch about the “my girl” slip, but she just rolled her eyes and started for the door leading to the upper deck and the stairs to the beach. Wes caught up with her as soon as she touched the patio and rested a hand on her shoulder. He pulled her into him and wrapped her close. Sighing, he lowered his mouth to her neck and kissed her.

“In my world,” he said, his voice low and soft, “an argument doesn’t end anything. An argument is just that, an argument. We’ve had them before. We’ll have them again.” She didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. “Stay, Rubi. Let me hold you tonight.”

“I don’t understand you.” Her head relaxed against his shoulder, and her body softened. “I don’t understand me
with
you.”

“Give it time.”

“Do you understand us?”

He closed his eyes, tightened his hold, and absorbed the feel of her against him. Yes, his body understood. Yes, his heart understood. But his mind…and all that had happened tonight—seeing the interaction between her and a father she’d grown up hating, hearing her beliefs about money, about how Wes should view money—he ended up offering, “I understand this.”

She pulled out of his grasp on a sigh of disappointment and started toward the beach. “You’re right. I need time to work it all out.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. That sounded a lot like the old
We need some time apart.

“I think we need time to work it out together.” They walked down to the wet sand, and Wes tossed the Frisbee ahead of them for Rodie. More than ever, he wanted her to see how a real family worked. How people could argue and still love each other. How people who loved each other acted. And he asked again, “Why don’t you come to Missouri with me?”

She laughed, the sound a mixture of what-the-fuck and no-way-in-hell. “Not.”

“Why?”

“I’ve already told you. I’m behind on my NSA deadline. And I have Rodie. And now I have to find another goddamned place to live.”

“Rodie can come with us. My family loves animals. And you’re not going to get any peace with buyers coming in and out of your house at all hours. It would be good for you to get away from here.”

“Listen to yourself,” she said. “You’re suggesting I stuff Rodie in the cargo hold? Not going to happen. And I need to
work
, Wes. I can’t write programming code without quiet.”

He fell into step with her as she started walking again. “Exactly. Your house is on the market. You won’t have any peace. At least with me you could have a cozy room in some bed-and-breakfast. Then you’ll be there when I need updates to the rig.”

“I’ll make them from here. On my server. All you have to do is make sure the rig is within range of any Wi-Fi, and it will sync up and update.”

Wes’s mouth dropped open. “When did
that
happen?”

“I programmed it that way.”

Her intelligence boggled him. “
You
should be the one looking to sell this thing. All I created was the frame. You’re giving it all the brains. Don’t you want to see how your programming makes a difference firsthand? Don’t you want control over the fine points of how we use it?”

They were at the steps to her house now. Rodie ran back to Wes and sat at his feet, the Frisbee in his mouth.

Rubi turned to Wes, the night lit by moonlight and the distant glow from her porch. “No, Wes. Thank you for asking, but no. And let me make this very clear—that rig is 100 percent yours. I don’t own any part of it. I don’t want to own any part of it. What you do with it is your choice. I did you a favor, just like I’ve done favors for Lexi and Jax and a couple of dozen other people. It’s good karma. Are we clear?”

“Sure, whatever.”

She squeezed his forearm. “Good night.”

“Baby…” He took her arm and stepped close again, discomfort ratcheting up in his chest. “I don’t want to leave like this. I don’t want to be a four-hour flight away with us at odds.”

She searched his eyes, all those beautiful features softer in the moonlight. Her eyes narrowed. “Why? Worried I might end up at Stilettos?”

There was a challenging edge in her voice. One he recognized as the old Rubi. One he realized she hadn’t used with him for over a week.

Until that moment, no, he hadn’t considered Stilettos. Now it terrified him. “Rubi—”

She jogged toward her slider. Rodie glanced between them, his ears pulled back in distress.

“Go on,” Wes said to the dog.

Rodie followed Rubi and stepped inside.

“I’ll pick you up for your flight at the set,” Rubi said. “Ten o’clock.” And she shut the door.

Eighteen

Rubi pulled into the designated parking area just as she had early that week—only so much had changed between then and now. Rubi had hoped for things she’d never believed she would. Her relationship with Wes had undergone a transformation she’d never believed possible. She’d finally cut the dysfunctional cord with her father. And her dream of buying the house she loved had been shot into the fiery pits of hell.