Breaking Her Rules

by Jennifer Snow

  Did he feel guilty kissing a woman who was about to start a life with another man? Sure. But she hadn’t taken that step with Erik yet, so there was still time to talk her out of it. Erik wasn’t right for Gracie. From what he’d seen of the two of them together, their relationship revolved around their choice of career and perceived similar life goals. There was no passion or love—at least not the kind Gracie deserved. The kind he knew she’d have with him.

  But was he ready to commit to Gracie? He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Maria that women were not on his priority list right now. So far, he and Gracie were just flirting. Actually he was flirting, and she was fighting her attraction every step of the way. Was there more to his feelings, or was this all the thrill of something new, exciting . . . the chase? He ran a hand over his short, dark hair as he reached the vehicle. He needed to figure that out, before he messed with her life and emotions any more than he already had. Love or not, he cared about her—always had—and hurting her was not an option.

  “You okay?” Faith asked, sliding her arms around him as he approached.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’m going inside to grab a water. Want anything?”

  “I’ll get it,” he said, removing her arms from around his waist and heading into the convenience store.

  The cold blast of air-conditioning made him shiver as he went to the cooler and grabbed water bottles for the four of them. The clerk eyed him, an annoyed look on her face as he set the bottles on the counter and reached for a pack of gum. “I saw that,” she said, reaching for the bottles to scan.

  “Saw what?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. He removed several bills, tip money from the bar the night before.

  She nodded toward the television set on the counter. A surveillance camera overlooking the washrooms. “Women are not supposed to go into the men’s washroom.”

  That was the problem? Not that he’d gone in with her? He choked back a surprised laugh. Probably not the first time the attendant had witnessed such an act. “Well, she had to pee. There was no stopping her.”

  “Looked like there was no stopping you either,” she said with a disapproving nod and a pointed glance outside where Faith waited by the car, talking to Erik, who filled the gas tank.

  “Thank you,” he said, taking the bag from the counter and leaving the store. The store clerk was right. What was he thinking to be making a play for Gracie when Faith was along on this trip too? It wasn’t fair to either woman . . . or Erik, really. He had to back off a little. For now.

  “Here, why don’t you drive for a bit? I have e-mails to answer,” Erik said, tossing him the car keys as he approached the expensive SUV.

  He caught the keys, but hesitated. “Why doesn’t Gracie drive?”

  “I can’t drive a standard,” she said, coming up behind the group a second later.

  When he turned to face her, her cheeks looked flushed and she avoided his eyes. She reached for the door of the backseat, but Faith stopped her. “No, that’s okay. Sit up front. With those long legs, you must need the extra space. I’ll sit in the back with Erik.”

  She shook her head, but Erik added, “Yeah, and I don’t want you puking in my SUV. She gets car sick in the back,” he told Faith.

  “That decides it then,” the blonde said, climbing into the back next to Erik as Gracie reluctantly climbed back into the passenger seat next to him.

  “Feel better now?” he asked her as he started the truck.

  “Not really,” she mumbled, avoiding him, as she stared out the window.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Erik was already working on e-mails. He switched the dial to a local rock station, earning him an appreciative, if brief, look from Gracie. He’d suspected as much. The girl he remembered hated country music. She’d rather hear pop or alternative, anything but country. He wondered whether Mr. Executive knew or if it was simply that he didn’t care.

  “So, you two have known each other forever, right?” Faith said, leaning her head between the front seats.

  “Yep, we’ve been friends since elementary school,” Walker said.

  “Actually, I’m friends with Walker’s sister, Kylie,” Grace corrected.

  “We’re sorta friends by association, I guess,” Walker said.

  “Great, then I bet Grace has a lot of dirt on you,” Faith said, trailing a finger along his arm, and resting her hand over his on the gearshift.

  He noticed Gracie’s expression change slightly as she saw it. “You really should have your seat belt on,” he told Faith.

  She waved a hand, dismissing his comment as she waited for Grace to spill everything she knew about him.

  “His sister, Kylie, would know more than me . . . I never really paid much attention to Walker growing up,” she said, her voice cool, distant.

  Exactly. So how was a guy to know she’d been interested? “It’s true. Gracie ignored me, unlike all of Kylie’s other friends.”

  Faith laughed. “Best friend’s older brother—you were that guy they all giggled about, fantasized about, I bet.”

  “Everyone but Gracie.”

  As he was hoping, she rose to the challenge. Turning in the seat to look at Faith, she said, “I was smart. I’d seen this guy in action with women and I wanted no part of it.”

  He couldn’t deny his dating record had usually consisted of a maximum of one date per woman, but only because he’d been young, and stupid, and selfish. He was older now, though not really any less stupid or selfish based on his actions moments before.

  “What was it like growing up in a small town? Lovelock’s got like three thousand people, right?” Faith asked.

  “Even less,” Walker said, shoulder-checking and switching lanes. “I thought it was okay. I kinda liked it.”

  “Of course you did,” Grace said, folding her arms and glancing out the passenger window. “You were the high school quarterback hero, everyone loved you.”

  “Except you,” he said pointedly, staring across at her.

  “You survived.”

  ***

  Gracie’s mind wandered as her gaze settled on nothing in particular outside the window. Faith and Walker’s voices faded in the background as she thought about what she’d just said. Everyone in Lovelock had adored Walker. And why wouldn’t they? Three years in a row he’d helped lead their high school football team to a victory at the state championships. His father was the most respected man in town, and Walker was an all-around great guy.

  The only thing that had bothered her about him was he’d never noticed her. Though, one day in particular, being invisible to Walker had been a good thing.

  She had no idea why she’d gone inside his bedroom that day, except that the door that was normally closed had been open slightly and she was curious. In the ten years she’d been friends with Kylie, she’d never seen the inside of Walker’s bedroom, and now she had her chance. Kylie and several of their friends were in the backyard in the pool, and Judge Adams was away for work that week. Walker had headed to the park in his Jeep with a bunch of friends to play football earlier that morning, much to her disappointment, so the coast was clear.

  Pushing the door open, she’d gone inside and looked around. The queen-sized bed was unmade, and a pair of his boxer shorts lay outside his hamper, as if he’d tossed them and they hadn’t quite made it. On his walls were posters of Nine Inch Nails and Metallica and several MMA fighters. She’d started watching the fights because of Walker. It gave her an excuse to talk to him. She’d also done her research on the fighters, the events, the weight-class divisions, the fighting techniques . . . and it had paid off.

  “You know your shit,” he’d said once when she entered a heated debate with one of his friends over a bad call by the judges when they’d watched a pay-per view event.

  She’d beamed all evening at the praise, but it turned out knowing her fight statistics hadn’t led to him falling in love with her. The opposite was true. He’d only further
thought of her as one of the guys and his personal advisor on where to place his money on the fights. Funny how it was fighting that had connected them in the past, as it was now.

  On his shelves had been soccer medals, Tae Kwon Do belts, football trophies, and his prized possession—his golden gloves. He’d received them the month before for winning a boxing tournament in Las Vegas. She’d driven out to the city with him and Kylie to watch the tournament, and she’d been terrified, excited, worried, and completely turned on watching him fight. She’d fantasized about running into the ring and giving him a celebratory kiss upon his win, but of course, the flavor of the week—a high school senior with big boobs and a bubble butt—had been there to do that. So, she’d mumbled a tepid congratulations on the drive home.

  Photos of him and his friends—mostly girls he’d dated—were stuck to his pegboard above his desk, and she was scanning them, getting more jealous by the minute, when she’d heard his voice in the hall. Panic had crept into her chest as she’d turned frantically, looking for an escape. The second-story window was far too high off of the ground to jump . . .

  Then a female’s giggle had made her heart stop. She’d ducked into his closet at the last second before they entered, holding her breath and hoping he wouldn’t notice the tiny gap in the open closet door. She was claustrophobic . . . and the idea of being in the small space was driving her pulse crazy. She’d thought for sure he’d be able to hear her unsteady, panicky breaths.

  “You are a tease,” she’d heard him say to the blonde with long, wavy hair, wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts and white bikini top. Her bare feet revealed perfectly manicured toes painted a seafoam green that looked amazing against her dark, tanned skin. Her own toes were painted one of the dark red shades her mother owned, and the messy polish had spilled over the sides. She couldn’t even compete with this girl’s toes. How pathetic was that?

  “Who said I was teasing?” the girl had responded.

  As Walker had picked her up and moved toward the bed, Kylie had appeared at the open bedroom door. “Walker, Dad’s on the phone. He wants to talk to you. And have you seen Gracie?”

  “No. Get out. Tell Dad I’m busy.”

  “Oh, okay, sure. I’ll tell him you’re about to have sex. He will love that,” Kylie had said in her most annoying kid-sister voice.

  Walker had sighed and stood. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Gracie had breathed a sigh of relief and waited several seconds, until she heard him on the phone, before quickly escaping the room. But she never forgot that feeling of inadequacy—that Walker would never want a girl like her.

  Now, as Erik’s Escalade pulled up in front of the Adamses’ large two-story, four-thousand-square-foot home, her gaze flew to Walker’s old bedroom window. Tonight, once again it would be someone else in his room with him—kissing him, having sex with him, and falling asleep next to him. And yet, the jerk had kissed her earlier that afternoon. She wasn’t sure what kind of game Walker was playing, but just like when she was fifteen, Grace wasn’t interested in playing a game she couldn’t win.

  ***

  “Why don’t you head on out to the backyard, I’ll meet you out there in a few minutes,” Walker told Faith after giving her a tour of his family’s home a few minutes later.

  As expected, she was impressed, and that only made him uneasy. For years, every girl he’d dated had been impressed by his upbringing and his family’s status in Lovelock. The most recent: Alison. The one time he’d brought her home and introduced her to his father and grandparents, it had been clear that she was more attracted to the entire package he offered—good family, money, success—than in him alone. Still, it had taken her change of heart when he’d quit school to pursue fighting to confirm his suspicions about her. He wouldn’t ignore his gut reaction this time.

  “Is that a pool?” Faith asked, her eyes lighting up as he opened the door leading out into the backyard.

  “Yeah, feel free to relax, dip your feet in . . . The party guests won’t be here for another few hours,” he said, hearing his dad’s voice in the den.

  “Great.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Hurry up and join me.”

  As she settled into a lawn chair to soak up the noon sun on the pool deck, he closed the door and headed for the den. As much as he was dreading a conversation with his father, he wanted to get it over with before he introduced Faith to him and before the guests arrived and the party started. His sister was right. They needed to put their current disagreement aside for his grandparents that weekend.

  He knocked once on the slightly ajar office door and pushed it open.

  His father replaced the receiver on his office phone and glanced up as he entered. “You made it,” he said, his tone unreadable.

  “Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t dream of missing Grams and Gramps’s special day.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  His father leaned back in his chair and gestured for him to sit. “I saw you get out of an Escalade. Your girlfriend’s vehicle?”

  “No girlfriend, just a date I brought along. And actually, it was Grace Andrews’s boyfriend’s vehicle. We all came together,” he said tightly.

  “Wow, looks like little Gracie is doing well for herself. Must be a great guy she’s with.”

  Why? Because he drove an eighty-thousand-dollar vehicle? When had the measure of a man come down to what he drove? Probably always, in his father’s mind. Tension crept across his shoulders. Thirty seconds was all it had taken to start an argument. He wouldn’t rise to it. He was determined to keep the peace for the two days he was forced to be there. “He’s a good guy. He’s actually a fight matchmaker at the MFL.”

  His father leaned forward on the desk. “Ah, now I get it. Grace has certainly been helping you out a lot, huh?”

  Obviously his father knew about his upcoming fight. His jaw clenched. He wanted to argue, to disagree, but how could he? Grace was helping him out a lot. Giving him a place to stay, setting him up with a job, securing a place for him in Tyson’s training camp, and inadvertently getting him this fight opportunity. “Yes. She’s been very supportive.” Which was more than he could say for his father.

  “Well, as long as you don’t have to work for anything, life is good, right?”

  So much for avoiding an argument. His father was hell-bent on having one. “Despite what you think you know, I am working hard, Dad.”

  “Training night and day to get your ass kicked is hardly what I’d call working hard.”

  “I also have a job bartending.”

  His father stared at him. “That’s supposed to impress me? You are two semesters and the bar exam from having a law degree and I’m supposed to pat you on the back for pouring drinks in some Las Vegas strip club?” His voice rose and he stood.

  Walker stood as well. “I don’t expect you to understand. You never did.” His mother was the understanding one, the one that listened, the one who encouraged them to dream big and take chances. Between their mom and dad, he and Kylie had gotten the best of both worlds—their father’s guidance and practical advice, and their mother’s carefree, live-life-to-the-fullest spirit. “Mom would have understood.”

  His father’s eyes blazed in anger. “You think your mother would be proud? Get real, Walker. Your mother encouraged you and Kylie to explore your hobbies and goals, but even she wouldn’t approve of your recent choices.”

  “I think she would,” he said firmly.

  “Clearly, you didn’t know your mother.”

  “Maybe it was you who didn’t know her. I mean, all you did was work . . .”

  “To provide all of this for my family,” he said, gesturing at the house. “Ask your friend Grace what she would have given to have everything I gave you and Kylie. Obviously it’s important to her, or she wouldn’t be dating a hardworking executive who cares about money and success and not some bullshit about following dreams.”

  His father’s words struck a chord. It was obvious Gracie craved s
ecurity in her future, after never having it growing up. And he knew they’d been fortunate never to have to struggle, but they’d sacrificed for what they’d had. Their father’s absence after their mother’s death was slightly too high a price to pay for the luxuries they’d enjoyed. He released a deep breath. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing Gracie found what she was looking for. I’m happy for her. But I’m not that guy, Dad. I’m not you.”

  “The problem is, I’m not convinced you know who you are, Son.”

  ***

  “Thank you again for coming,” Grace said to Erik as they pulled into the driveway of her mother’s tiny two-bedroom bungalow a few blocks away. As he shut off the car, she fought every urge to tell him to back out of the driveway and head back to the city. She’d promised Kylie they would be there, and besides, they had two stowaways they couldn’t abandon in Lovelock, even though that idea made the escape even more tempting.

  “Sure.” He looked about as excited as she did at the prospect of getting out of the car.

  Only the torturous heat inside the vehicle once the air-conditioning had been shut off was enough to force her to open the door and climb out. “We don’t have to be here long. A quick hello, then we can head to the B and B to check in and get ready for the party,” she whispered quickly as they opened her mother’s front door.

  “Hello? Mom?” she called, entering the living room, somewhat relieved to see the place seemed at least a little tidier than she’d remembered it. Knickknacky, tacky souvenir items still cluttered every inch of space on every tabletop or shelf, and pictures wallpapered the walls, but at least there weren’t boxes piled up everywhere like before. Full of items that “hadn’t found a home yet” according to her mother. Things she’d paid too much for at craft sales or flea markets, spending cash she didn’t really have to waste.

  Going into the kitchen, she cringed at the sight of dirty dishes in the sink and pots still left on the stove. The dishwasher she’d bought her from Costco and had delivered seven months ago as a Christmas present still sat in a box in the corner, her mother’s bras draped over it to dry. Fantastic. She’d been using the new dishwasher as a drying rack.