Burn Me Once, Burn With Me novel Chapter 50

Ruby hesitated, but then remembered she needed to buy groceries and cook anyway.

"Sure," she agreed with a smile, her eyes curving as she gently teased Mira, who was obediently drinking her formula.

Before long, the two of them—Ruby with Mira in tow—were strolling side by side through the bustling morning market.

Vendors called out their wares, their voices mingling with the constant sizzle of oil from food stalls along the curb. The air was thick with the earthy, comforting scent of fresh produce and fried breakfast, alive with the pulse of everyday life.

Mira's mouth fell open in wonder, taking in the lively scene with wide-eyed curiosity.

Ruby herself was surprised. She hadn't expected such a vibrant street market in what seemed like a quiet, out-of-the-way suburb.

Cameron Lockridge caught the flash of surprise and delight in her eyes and grinned. "This area's close to the university, so a lot of students rent apartments around here. And even though it's outside downtown, the public transit is great. Plenty of young professionals from Quinborough settle here and just hop on the subway to work in the mornings."

Ruby nodded, finally understanding.

They meandered to a vegetable stall, the crates stacked high with produce.

"Ruby, do you like tomatoes?" Cameron asked, picking up two plump, ripe ones and holding them out in front of her with a playful grin.

Ruby's eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly.

She'd always been a picky eater—never touched onions, garlic, or cilantro. Back when she lived with her grandmother, she'd often get her ear tugged with a laugh, scolded for being such a finicky child.

Whenever she sulked and ran off, her grandmother would magically whip up a tomato dish just for her—something simple, sweet and tangy, that she'd always eat with gusto.

But in the eighteen months she spent in prison, she'd learned to swallow whatever was put in front of her, no matter how unpalatable, her face expressionless. The luxury of pickiness belonged to Ruby Grayson, the spoiled heiress—not to Ruby, the convict.

He slowed his motions, letting his hand linger over the vegetables, his attention half on Ruby. She stood with her head bowed, a lock of hair fluttering across her cheek as people brushed past. Her eyelashes were long and delicate, fluttering as she blinked, giving her an almost otherworldly beauty.

He remembered how Ms. Grayson had always been striking—objectively beautiful. But after all this time, she'd changed. Her skin, once luminous and fair, was now almost ghostly pale. Her eyes, which used to brim with hope, had turned into calm, deep pools—still, unreadable.

But the most striking change was the scar on her face. It should have marred her beauty, but somehow, it didn't. Instead, it gave her a sense of history, a quiet strength that seemed to blend with her new-found maternal grace. It made her even more captivating.

Cameron blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the odd tightness in his chest. He turned away, a little too obviously. "Missing your grandmother? What did she cook for you? I'm a decent cook—maybe I could try to recreate something."

Ruby's heart warmed at the offer, but she just shook her head with a smile. No one could ever replicate her grandmother's cooking.

"What else do we need?" she asked, changing the subject as she scanned the produce again, tilting her head to look at Cameron.