Why Resist a Rebel

chapter ELEVEN



On Monday evening, Ruby nosed her hire car up the long gravel driveway to Dev’s cottage. Even as she pulled to a stop she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing.

She’d been driving home from another long day, already planning what she was going to order at the pub for dinner. And then—unexpectedly—she was here.

No. That wasn’t completely true.

It wasn’t at all unexpected. Given the amount of time her subconscious had allocated to Dev today, her arrival here could even be considered foreseeable.

That fact didn’t make it any less a bad idea.

She held the car key in her hand, and made a half-hearted attempt to reach for the ignition before stopping herself.

She was here now. She might as well go talk to him—clear the air.

Yesterday’s flight home had been awkward. There was no other word for it. It was obvious neither of them had intended what had happened at the beach.

She should regret it, she knew. Why would she share something so personal with a man she barely knew?

A few times, during that long hour in the jet, she’d meant to say something. To somehow laugh off what had happened.

But it was impossible. She couldn’t very well tell him: Look, I’ve never told anyone else—ever—what I told you today. Just forget it, okay?

Right.

Last night she’d lain in bed, telling herself she’d made the sensible decision to back away. That her immediate reaction to that dose of reality—as shocking as if someone had dumped a bucket of salt water on top of her—was appropriate.

He was Devlin Cooper. She needed to remember that. It was so easy to be seduced into reading something more into the situation, imagining so much more than there was between them, or would ever be.

He wasn’t looking for for ever, and she certainly didn’t want it.

So today, her mind had wandered for the hundredth time to little flashbacks of how Dev had looked as he’d leant against the wall beside the elevator; or the way he’d looked at her, that moment before he’d kissed her, down at Tamarama...

She shoved open her door, stepping out into the cool evening.

Belatedly she realised the front door was now open. Dev stood, propped against the doorframe, watching her.

Waiting for her.

‘Looked like you were doing some serious thinking there,’ he said as she stepped onto the veranda.

‘No,’ she lied, quickly. ‘Quite the opposite. I was thinking we’ve been spending way too much time being serious.’

His lips quirked. ‘How so?’ he asked, a little gruffly.

Where he stood, half in the shadows and half illuminated by the hallway light, she couldn’t read his gaze.

She stepped closer, attempting what she hoped was a flirtatious, happy-go-lucky, I’m-totally-cool-about-all-this smile.

He took a step backwards, gesturing for her to come in.

But she didn’t. She needed to get this sorted first. They needed to both understand what this was.

‘Maybe you were right,’ she said. Dev raised his eyebrows. ‘A few weeks ago, outside the pub. When you said we were just two single people stuck in a country town. How did you put it? A match made in heaven.’

He nodded. ‘You said you didn’t date anyone you worked with.’

‘Too late now,’ she said, with a bit of a laugh. ‘Besides, somehow we’ve flown under the radar. No gossip.’

‘Except for Graeme. Graeme thinks you’re great, by the way. You should hear him on our drives into set.’

Ruby smiled. ‘Well, then, Graeme is very discreet. I’ll have to thank him.’

They both fell into silence.

‘So what you’re saying is?’ Dev prompted.

Ruby narrowed her eyes. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Not at all,’ he said. But was that a sparkle in his eyes?

She gave a little huff of frustration. ‘Fine.’ And she closed the gap between them, and before she had the chance to lose her nerve—and just because she wanted to—she kissed him.

Not tentatively, not questioning.

When, after an age, they broke apart, she needed to take a few long breaths to pull herself together.

‘That’s what I want,’ she said.

He was reaching for her again. ‘I like this plan.’

‘Just until the film is over,’ she clarified as he almost carried her inside, slamming the front door behind them.

Maybe it was the sound of the door, or the distraction of Dev kissing her neck, and the shiver it triggered through her body—but her words weren’t as firm, or as clear, as she’d like.

But she didn’t have a chance to repeat them, as now Dev had swept her up into his arms and was carrying her to his room.

And really, now wasn’t the time for talking.

Ruby had dinner with him every night, and they took advantage of all the food in his fridge—which magically doubled in volume, thanks to Graeme.

It was easy, and fun. He continued to pay her no special attention on set, although it was difficult. Especially when Ruby broke her own rules—just once—when delivering an updated copy of the day’s script.

It had been a genuine, work-related visit—but the kiss behind his very firmly closed trailer door was far from professional.

The memory made him smile as he stretched out along his couch. Ruby walked back from the kitchen, a glass of red wine in her hand.

‘Now don’t you look comfortable?’

He smiled, and tapped the space in front of him on the striped fabric. Her eyes sparkled as she sipped her wine, then placed the glass carefully on the coffee table.

She came into his arms easily. How long had it been now—a week? A week since she’d turned up at his front door, still with her rules, but with him, and this film, a temporary exception.

But he could live with this, especially when she kissed him. When Ruby was kissing him, that was all he thought about, all that filled his mind.

But when she left—and she always did—then he would think.

She’d leave around midnight. Ruby said it was because sometimes she gave members of the crew lifts to set—which sounded plausible.

But it wasn’t the real reason. She was keeping this light, and simple. Waking up together, or breakfast in bed, or conversations where they bared their souls—no. They were not things they wanted, not what this thing they had was about.

They both knew that.

Did she guess he still wasn’t sleeping? Sometimes he thought so. She’d look at him with concern in her eyes, and occasionally he’d be sure she was going to start asking questions.

But she never did.

On set, the rumours had dissipated. Dev had done nothing to perpetuate them—excluding that one morning, he’d never missed his call, had never been anything but prompt and professional. Everyone seemed to love Dev Cooper.

And, thank goodness, there were no new rumours. This was Ruby’s nightmare, the niggling fear at the back of her mind that suddenly All Would Be Revealed somehow, or that the paparazzi that occasionally bothered to make the trip out to Lucyville would snap a photo of her and Dev together.

Which would be difficult—given their relationship existed entirely within the walls of his cottage. Graeme got rid of any loitering cars anywhere near the property, and so far it was proving remarkably effective.

But still—Ruby worried.

And not just about becoming the subject of gossip once again, but about Dev.

She needed to go. She lay curled on his couch, her back to Dev’s chest, a warm blanket covering them both. Earlier they’d been watching a nineteen-fifties Danny Kaye musical they both loved—but not enough to be rather easily distracted. It had long ago ended, the TV screen now black.

Dev was breathing steadily behind her, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She seemed to have a talent for dozing off, but not Dev. Except for that morning in the penthouse, she’d never seen him sleep. Not once.

He mustn’t be sleeping. Not well, anyway. She knew that whenever she saw the red in his eyes and his skin after he washed off his day’s stage make-up. She’d seen a packet of sleeping tablets in his bathroom, but she had no idea if he took them. She’d never asked.

She’d never asked about anything.

She could guess what was wrong. Extrapolate from what he’d told her at the beach that day. All the rumours had been way off. Her guess was that Dev was still processing his father’s death, and his own grief. That was the cause of his weight loss, his problems sleeping, the sadness in his gaze.

But that was all it was—a guess. So many times she was tempted to ask him about it. Like right now, in this darkened room, and in this intimacy they shared.

Did he want to talk to her about it? Did he want to share something so personal with her?

Did she want him to share something so personal?

No.

On the beach, it had all been too intense. Too much, too overwhelming. He’d felt the same way, too.

She didn’t want that. She couldn’t want that—not when they had only weeks together.

What would be the point?

So she turned in his arms and kissed him goodbye. And, as she did every other night, drove home to her own, lonely bed.

And she told herself she was doing the right thing.

Ruby woke up with a start, blinking in the unfamiliar room.

Dev’s place.

She’d fallen asleep. Her handbag was still out in the lounge room, so she turned over, planning to reach across Dev to where she knew he left his phone on his beside table, so she could check the time.

But Dev wasn’t there.

She crawled across the bed, wrapping herself with a sheet before she checked his phone. Three-twelve a.m.

Far too late to drive back to her place.

She realised she didn’t mind.

A thin crack of light glowed beneath the en-suite door. ‘Dev?’

No response. She stood, arranging the sheet like a towel. She felt faintly ridiculous for her sudden modesty—Dev had, after all, seen her naked.

But still, just walking about his house in the nude felt like a step too far—a dose of reality in their perfect little world.

She knocked on the door, but the slight touch pushed it open.

Dev sat on the closed toilet lid, in boxer shorts only. His head had been in his hands, and as he looked up at her he raked his fingers through his hair, making one side stand up on end.

He looked—awful. Worse than she’d ever seen him, despite the much-needed weight she’d noticed he’d put on in the past few weeks.

The shadows beneath his eyes were verging on black, and his eyes were rimmed red.

He looked exhausted. Broken. Ruined.

Of course it wasn’t a surprise.

But she’d made herself ignore it. She hadn’t wanted to know.

It didn’t fit with what she’d decided was allowable between them. This was far, far too serious.

‘Oh, Dev...’

She went to his side, automatically wrapping her arm around his shoulder. She crouched awkwardly beside the cistern but didn’t care. She had to do something.

But he shrugged her off.

‘I’m fine,’ he said, angrily. Much louder than she expected. It made her want to back away, but she didn’t let herself.

‘No,’ she said, ‘you’re not.’

He looked away—at the towel rail. At nothing.

‘I’m just having trouble sleeping,’ he said, all dismissive. ‘That’s all.’

She glanced at the sink. A tray of tablets lay almost empty on the counter top.

‘It’s not good for you to use those for too long,’ she began.

He stood up abruptly, crossing the room. ‘I know that,’ he said. He was looking at himself in the mirror, as if he hated what he saw.

Ruby straightened, but didn’t go to him.

‘Without them I just don’t sleep. I can’t.’

‘Okay.’

He looked at her, his gaze unbelievably intense. ‘If I don’t take them, I don’t sleep. And if I don’t sleep, I can’t—’

Act.

He snatched at something. Two tablets, she realised, sitting on the ceramic counter.

Right in her line of sight. As if he’d been staring at them.

For how long?

He tossed them at his mouth, then wrenched the tap on, gathering water in his cupped hands that he tipped haphazardly down his throat.

Everything inside her screamed at her to leave.

She’d decided she didn’t want this. This was supposed to be fun, and flirty, and temporary.

Nothing that was happening right now was any of those things.

‘Can you please leave?’ he said, meeting her gaze in the mirror.

Because he asked, she nodded.

But she didn’t go very far. Not to her car, and certainly not back home to her apartment.

Instead, she shut the bathroom door behind her, and crawled straight back into Dev’s bed.

She didn’t know what she was doing, or what she could offer him.

But tonight, she was not walking away.

After Ruby left, Dev spent long minutes in the bathroom, waiting for his whirring brain to slow.

He’d known she hadn’t meant to stay, but when she had, he’d been glad.

Really glad.

Stupid, really.

Because what did it matter? Filming ended in two weeks, and then he’d fly back to LA. And Ruby would... He didn’t even know. That was how transient this relationship was.

But even so, he’d tried again. Tried to sleep like a normal person. To fall asleep beside Ruby.

Predictably, just like last week in that fancy penthouse, sleep hadn’t come. But tonight he’d really resisted the tablets.

Tonight he’d thought it might be different.

Why?

Just like how the mornings hadn’t been any different? The one single variation from the murky fog that was his mornings was last Sunday, when he’d woken beside Ruby. And even that had only worked because he’d been fortunate she’d slept in so late. He’d been nearly normal.

He’d hoped that would become the norm, but it hadn’t. Nights were hard. Mornings even worse. It was a constant, awful cycle of frustration—and in between he managed to be to all appearances a fully functional human being.

A miracle, probably, that on this film at least he could hide whatever the hell was wrong with him. He could hide it from Ruby.

Until tonight. Tonight he’d done a really crap job of hiding it.

He didn’t think Ruby would be coming back tomorrow night. This wasn’t what she’d signed up for.

He pushed the door open, not bothering to switch off the light. The bathroom light flooded the room, and the obvious feminine shape on the bed.

For a minute or more he just stood there, then gave his increasingly blurry head a shake, and switched off the light.

In the gloom he slid onto his side of the bed, and without letting himself think too much—and quite frankly with the drugs unable to do much thinking anyway—he reached for her.

She wasn’t asleep, he realised, and she turned to face him in his arms.

‘I’m fine,’ he whispered into her hair.

‘I want you to be,’ she said, her breath tickling his chest.

And then his eyes slid shut, but a moment before the thick blackness of drugged sleep enveloped him he made a decision.

Tomorrow things would change. Not because he’d crossed his fingers or shouted into his brain that it would, but because he’d just lied to Ruby.

And he didn’t want to do that again.

I want you to be.

Finally, he slept.