Rebel

Movement out the window caught Rubi’s eye. She made small circles with her hand, a wrap-it-up motion, and pointed to the window to signal the guys were coming.

“This has been fun,” Rachel said, her voice suddenly professional and curt again, “but I’ll have to call you back with details.”

And she disconnected the call. “Oh, my God. If he’s only half as hot as his voice, he’s a fifteen on a scale of one to ten.”

“Might need to refocus,” Rubi said, her humor gone. “They’re all coming in. And none of them looks any happier than Wes.”

She groaned and glanced at her watch. “It’s too early for lunch, isn’t it?” She propped her elbows on the desk and ran her hands through her hair, holding it back. “I need an office. Really, I do. Just a small one...”

The guys filed in, all looking like someone stole their favorite Penthouse edition. She crossed her arms and leaned against the extra desk.

Jax entered first, but Wes’s voice was the one Rubi heard. “That’s only going to mess up the schedule more. Whether you go through the city to find a bridge they’ll allow you to destroy or you build a replica, that will take weeks. Maybe months.” He came through the door, still with his head down. “Have I mentioned how much I hate Bolton lately?”

Keaton entered behind him. “You haven’t stopped talking about how much you hate Bolton.”

“And I, for one, am sick of it,” Troy said, coming in last but spotting Rubi first. “Tell your boyfriend to shut his trap, will you?”

Wes’s head swung toward Troy, a what-the-fuck look on his face. Then he followed Troy’s gaze, and his eyes paused on Rubi. His entire face lit up, and a smile spread his mouth. That one look pulled the lining from Rubi’s stomach and turned it inside out. Then quick flashes of thought lit off behind his eyes, each taking his grin down a notch with guilt or unease or disappointment.

“Hey,” he said and glanced at his wrist but found no watch. “What time is it?”

“You’ve got a few minutes,” she said.

Rubi’s own happiness ticked down in tandem with Wes’s. She hadn’t slept at all. She’d spent the night rolling around everything he’d said and done the night before. Then tossing around her own issues, searching for ways to overcome them. Had tried to rationalize going to Missouri with him until she’d been pacing the living room. But doing the whole family meet-and-greet after just experiencing so much turmoil with her own “family” was as black an idea as being without him.

Still… She wanted him. She cared about him. And, yes, Lexi had been right when she’d suspected Rubi had already been half in love with him when this had all started.

Which was just…way too much for her to handle.

“Let me worry about finding the bridge,” Jax said.

“I have a lead on one.” Rachel leaned back in her chair. “And I have a call in to the City. But we still have the explosives-expert problem. I’ve called all seven firms specializing in controlled explosive work between here and San Diego, and they’re all booked on jobs through February. And,” she added with a wince, “none of them are cheap.” She darted a look at Rubi, then to Troy. “I was just going to try your friend, Ryker.”

“Why are you looking for an explosives expert?” Rubi asked.

“I’m going to change.” Wes passed her, sliding a hand down her back. He kissed her temple with a whispered, “I was lonely last night.” Then disappeared into the bathroom.

Rubi was still tingling, still enjoying Wes’s musky, spicy scent when Jax said, “Bolton’s going to be out a month. Maybe six weeks. He’s got drug problems on top of alcohol problems. We’ve got a look-alike lined up for a lot of the filming, but no one can deliver his lines.”

“Oh shit,” Rubi said, her mind playing with the financial bottom line.

“If we blow up an old bridge-for real-instead of using CGI,” he said, referring to the computer graphic interface used to render many Hollywood special effects, “we could recoup the loss.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Jax said. “CGI is freaking expensive. You damn computer geeks rape us.”

“Get what you pay for,” Rubi teased.

“Then that crash app should be worth shit, since it was free,” Jax said, “and it’s amazing. We tried it out this morning. Really good stuff.”

A thrill of accomplishment sizzled through her chest. “That’s awesome.”

“What’s awesome?” Wes’s voice drew her gaze toward the bathroom. He emerged, hair damp, dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved Billabong tee the color of his eyes, and smelling like something out of the men’s cologne department.

Sexy bastard.

“Rubi’s crash app,” Keaton said, shooting a handsome grin toward her. “Her new ride’s not bad either.”

“True,” Wes said. “They’re both proving helpful this morning.”

“Let Rachel talk to my buddy, Ryker,” Troy said to Jax. “He’s home on leave from Afghanistan. A bomb expert. Blows up all kinds of shit for the army.”

Rachel met Rubi’s gaze and lifted her brows in interest.

Jax frowned. “He has to be licensed and bonded and-”

“He’s been doing this shit for a decade, and he hasn’t blown himself up,” Troy said. “Probably a good sign. If he can’t do it, he can probably point us in the right direction. Rachel can make initial contact, then pass him off to you if he’s interested and available.”

Rachel’s interest dimmed and she rolled her eyes. “Adding another guy to this team? Just what we need, more testosterone. And this time, explosive testosterone.” As laughter passed through the space, she lifted a pleading look toward Jax. “Just a really small room…with a door?”

“Come on, Rach.” Troy sauntered over to her desk, sat on the edge, and leaned toward her, those sexy dark eyes teasingly flirtatious. “You know you love every last one of us.”

“Maybe,” she said, “but none of you ever let me get anything done.”

“Troy,” Wes said. “Lay off. She’s doing all the shit I used to have to do. If you scare her off while I’m gone, you’ll be doing risk assessment, supply inventory, and ordering.”

Troy winced and eased away from Rachel. “Oooo, ouch.”

Wes hefted a duffle over his shoulder and knocked fists with Jax, Troy, and Keaton, then lifted a hand to Rachel. “Call me if they misbehave.” To the men, he offered, “No major injuries.”

He slid his hand across Rubi’s shoulders and pulled her close, leading her out the door.

“Rubi,” Troy called, “if you get lonely while he’s gone-”

“Not if you like those perfect teeth, dude,” Wes cut him off.

“I need a few crowns anyway,” Keaton said. “You’ve got my number, Rubi.”

“Can’t play with sex-toy shit when you’re dead,” Wes said without looking back.

Rubi smiled down at the asphalt as they walked. Tried to absorb the feel of him next to her, as if they belonged together. Tried to settle her nerves when she wondered if they did belong together.

“How do you feel?” she asked, glancing at the bandages around the hand carrying his duffle.

“Sore.” The top was down on her Aston, and Wes tossed his duffle in the back as Rubi rounded the hood. He leaned both hands on the doorframe. “Baby?”

She paused before getting into the car and met his gaze.

“I was so out of line last night…” He lowered his head and shook it, as if he couldn’t bear to hold her gaze anymore. “I just… Your father… And I so don’t want to go home without you…” He glanced up with a look so sheepishly hopeful, it almost knocked her over. “We could leave the Aston here for Jax to take home. Drive my truck to the airport and put it in long-term parking. I’ll buy your ticket-”

“Wes…” If he only knew how close she was to tipping, he’d never give up.

“Never mind.” He shook his head and slid into the passenger’s seat. “Stupid idea.”

It was a stupid idea. Rubi continued to remind herself of that as she dropped behind the wheel and steered onto the 405.

“Last week,” he started, his hair ruffling in the wind, mirrored sunglasses hiding his beautiful eyes, “I was dying to get a break from these long days. Give my body some time to heal and refuel. Now, I’d rather spend sixteen hours in hand-to-hand, let a semi run over me, and have Troy push me off a Huey than be without you for two weeks.”

Rubi drew a breath, her throat suddenly tight. He rolled his head toward her. And grinned that Hollywood grin. “Did you go soft? Even for a second?”

“You ass.”

He laughed, but the sound was far from his usual buoyancy. He propped his elbow on the armrest and rubbed his fingers over his forehead.

“I know you’re going to hate this…but…” He hesitated as if trying to decide how or what to say. “I…need to know where we stand, Rubi.” With his forehead propped on two fingers, he tilted his gaze toward her. She couldn’t see his eyes through the mirrored lenses, but his mouth was tight, and she could easily imagine his serious dark gaze. “I don’t want to walk around for two weeks-or more-not knowing. It will eat at me.”

Rubi licked her lips. Anxiety bubbled up in her belly and imaginary walls pressed in on her. “I…don’t know how to answer that. Do we really need a label? After only a week?”

He waited, as if hoping more would come. When it didn’t, he turned his gaze back to his lap. “Fuck,” he murmured, barely audible in the wind from the open top. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Panic streaked beneath her breastbone. Her mind filled with the jumbled thoughts from the night before-all her desires, all her fears. She took the off-ramp to LAX as if on autopilot and continued toward the departing flights.

“What does that mean?” she asked hesitantly. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to know.

He looked out the windshield with a shake of his head. “I just… You were right last night when you said I don’t look ahead. I didn’t think it through when I started this with you. I just…wanted you. Had been wanting you for months. In a way, I’d been wanting you even longer and didn’t realize it until I found you.” He shrugged. “I just thought…you know, it would all work out.”

Had wanted her longer? She swung to the curb in front of the United terminal and put the car in park, confused.

“Can you at least tell me where we stand before I get on a plane?” he asked.

Her stomach knotted. “Really, Wes, do we have to do this now?”

“We’ve been on a fucking roller coaster for the last week.” Frustration played in his voice. “It would be nice to know whether or not I’m going to come home to the up, the down, or the end of the ride.”