“I don’t know who you are or why you’ve come, but you should know that Ruby saved this animal’s life today,” Spencer said and in a voice that skipped the leather to go straight for steel. “I’ve never seen anyone deal with an asshole the way she has.”

Ruby choked back a laugh as the full weight of Spencer’s double entendre hit home. From the look on Harry’s face, equal parts outraged and insulted, it was clear he understood what Spencer was getting at.

“You could say that I’ve been dealing with assholes my whole life,” Ruby said sweetly.

“You can’t lodge a complaint about general unpleasantness,” Harry muttered, though he was already stepping backward toward the door. “And I never sexually harassed you, Ruby, not once. I’ll swear to that under oath. You’re not my type.”

He meant the words as an insult, but Ruby couldn’t think of a better compliment to give a woman.

“I could lodge a complaint about all the prescription drugs that have gone missing around here, so don’t even start,” she countered. “And sexual harassment isn’t just hitting on a woman, you nitwit. You’ve been making snide comments about my appearance since the moment I started working here. You and management both.”

Harry’s face grew red, then purple, then white. “You can’t prove anything.”

He was right. She had no proof that he’d been stealing from the clients, and any claims she made about him making the workplace an uncomfortable environment would be a case of he-said, she-said—and management had already shown whose side they’d be more likely to take.

Not that there was any way in hell she was letting him know that.

“You’d better hope so,” she said, still in that sweet voice. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish up here before I gather the things from my locker. You’ll pass my resignation along to the proper channels?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, turning instead to address Spencer, who was still standing like a suit of armor at her back—not protective but prepared should the situation require. His intensity was so unsettling that she forgot herself and scratched at her wrist, an action that only made the rest of her body flare up and make similar demands.

It was a lot like returning to the stage—to life—after ten years of stasis. For a full decade, Ruby had managed to quell every natural impulse and desire she had, to keep her head down and her sights low, to accept the bare minimum and be grateful for it. Doing so had helped her to leave the past behind, but at the cost of her future.

Not anymore. She might be uncomfortable and uncertain and unemployed, but at least she was those things on her own terms.