“I am fine. Get away from me, Rafferty.” She pushed him away from her. Getting to her feet, she was less dizzy this time and was able to walk away. Pushing through the front door, the freezing cold hit her hard, taking her breath away. At the same time, it cooled down her utter embarrassment of almost passing out.
Instead of running back to her apartment, she walked slowly and enjoyed the bite of the cold on her bare skin. Oddly, she knew that she could get frost bit at these temperatures, but she didn’t care. Maybe she was drunker than she thought.
“Ruth, wait!” Anderson called to her.
Glancing behind her, she winced as she watched him hurrying to catch up with her. He had his bulky winter jacket on and was carrying his suit jacket. “I’m fine, Anderson. You can go back to the bar.”
“I am going to make sure you get home.” He slowed as he caught up with her.
“You don’t need to do that. I can get there myself,” she assured him.
“Where is your car?” He was looking around the street.
“It’s over there. I can get there myself. Good night, Anderson.” She loved that he didn’t know she lived above the office. It was a fun secret.
“Mary Ruth Kennedy, you are lying to me. Right to my face in the middle of Main Street in the freezing cold.” He took her hand to walk across the street.
“Damn it,” she whispered. He knew. Rafferty had such a big mouth.
He stopped at her door. “Get inside.”
Pushing her into the little landing at the bottom of the stairs, she stopped. The spot that they were standing was small, tall but tight. It held on to the cold that the thin glass door didn’t keep out. They were standing so close that his coat was brushing up to her sweater. Looking into his dark brown eyes, she saw the desire for her in them. But she knew it was the alcohol and not anything real.
“Ask me up, Ruth.” His eyes were on hers, and his voice was a husky whisper.
“For drinks? I have had enough,” she whispered, wishing he would touch her.
“No drinks.” He ran a hand lightly over her hair.
“Sex?” she whispered the word that was making the cold room sizzle around them, despite the fact that she could see her breath this close to the outside door.
“Yes.” His mouth lowered towards hers slowly.
She pushed at his chest before he could kiss her. “I am not going to be your drunk hookup, Anderson. Go back to Heather Reed for that.” Spinning, she ran up the stairs away from him. Would he follow? Stopping and leaning against the hallway wall as she kicked off her shoes, she didn’t hear him on the steps. Holding her breath, she tried not to breathe too loudly until she heard the outside door open as he left.
Entering her apartment, she wondered if that had actually happened. Was she so drunk she dreamed it? Then she wondered why she had stopped it if it was real. Yes, she was totally willing to be his drunk hookup. When had she turned into a prude? Maybe it had happened in the last dozen years since she actually had hooked up with someone.
After changing back into her comfortable clothes, she sat down on the couch with a glass of cold water, turning on the TV to take her mind off the end of the great evening. It had been so much fun to get together with friends and have a laugh about life. It was also fun to see Anderson out of the office. It was nice to be a part of a world she had never been included in, but then it had come crashing down around her, and she was reminded that she didn’t belong there with them.
Ruth was the outsider who grew up in this town. Born there, raised there, and had never left. But being included had never been an option for her. She had been raised by her single, religious mother with no father in the picture. In school, she had been shy and quiet, unable to connect easily with kids who she had been in school with. During her last years of high school, she had a small group of friends, but they had mostly been Franky’s. Rafferty was the only one in that group that was even still around.
After the break-up, she had removed herself from society for a few years, unable to cope with the whispers and stares. Yet she was unable to move away either; her mother needed her close. Now she was thirty and had nothing to show for it. Few friends, little family. Her large property holdings and writing didn’t keep her warm at night.
Maybe she should look at moving to a larger town. She could sell her properties and move on with her life. Once she had stayed in hopes that Franky would come back for her, but now she stayed because she had no ambition to go anywhere else. Maybe getting fired would be the best thing for her, forcing her out of her comfortable hiding place.