Breaking All the Rules
Page 1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Rachael Richey
Breaking All the Rules
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Kate’s mouth fell open as she found herself face to face with a tall, slim young man, his thick messy dark hair falling over his deep velvet brown eyes. Eyes that had always had the ability to turn her legs to jelly. She put a hand out to steady herself on the table and licked her suddenly dry lips.
“Sam,” she managed, her voice emerging as a squeaky croak.
“Hello, Katy.” He smiled at her, the deep brown eyes crinkling enticingly at the corners. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Sam,” Kate repeated, unable to tear her eyes away from his. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come home.” Sam grinned at her and ran a hand through his hair. “Thought it was time I settled down. Got a job, that sort of thing.”
“You’ve been travelling all this time?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” He glanced around him with interest. “It’s kinda weird being back here, actually. This all seems so…so…”
“Boring?” Kate supplied the word. “So boring after India, and Australia, and wherever you’ve been the last eight years. Where have you been, Sam?”
“No, not boring.” He ignored her question. “Just normal. Normal and sort of…well, just normal.”
Kate stared at him, her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest. Sam was the last person she had expected to see at the WI fête. The last person she had ever expected to see again. She had stopped hoping for that a long time ago.
Praise for Rachael Richey
“…another very entertaining book with a great mixture of love, suspense and drama.”
~Portobellobookblog (4 Stars)
~*~
“This is the third installment in the NightHawk series and I was gripped yet again with the drama and romance in Abi and Gideon’s life.”
~Kraftireader (5 Stars)
~*~
“An exciting, suspenseful book that once again consumed me within its pages and never let me down.”
~Whispering Stories (5 Stars)
~*~
“Rachael’s writing style flows so easily that she effortlessly moves from past to present, revealing just enough information each time and leaving the reader clamouring for more.”
~The Book Magnet (5 Stars)
~*~
Other books by Rachael Richey
Available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
The NightHawk Series:
STORM RISING
RHYTHM OF DECEIT
COBWEBS IN THE DARK
THE GIRL IN THE PAINTING
Breaking
All the Rules
by
Rachael Richey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Breaking All the Rules
COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Rachael Richey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2017
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1320-7
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1321-4
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my gorgeous little granddaughter,
Harlie Eliza,
who was born the day I signed the contract.
Chapter 1
Sunday 28th June, 2015
“Katy?”
Kate grimaced and pretended she hadn’t heard. No one called her Katy anymore, except a few of her older relatives and some of her mother’s more annoying friends. Agreeing to help out at the WI fête was already proving to be a mistake, and she could certainly do without some interfering old biddy coming and telling her how ill, or thin, or worried she looked. She kept her head down and savagely buttered a scone.
“Katy? Is that really you?”
God, they weren’t going to give up then. With a sigh she straightened up and pushed a strand of long dark hair out of her eyes. The butter knife still clutched in her hand, she glanced over her shoulder in resignation, prepared for the onslaught of criticism.
“I thought it was you. You haven’t changed a bit.”
Kate’s mouth fell open as she found herself face to face with a tall, slim young man, his thick messy dark hair falling over his deep velvet brown eyes. Eyes that had always had the ability to turn her legs to jelly. She put a hand out to steady herself on the table and licked her suddenly dry lips.
“Sam,” she managed, her voice emerging as a squeaky croak.
“Hello, Katy.” He smiled at her, the deep brown eyes crinkling enticingly at the corners. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Sam,” Kate repeated, unable to tear her eyes away from his. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come home.” Sam grinned at her and ran a hand through his hair. “Thought it was time I settled down. Got a job, that sort of thing.”
“You’ve been travelling all this time?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” He glanced around him with interest. “It’s kinda weird being back here, actually. This all seems so…so…”
“Boring?” Kate supplied the word. “So boring after India, and Australia, and wherever you’ve been the last eight years. Where have you been, Sam?”
“No, not boring.” He ignored her question. “Just normal. Normal and sort of…well, just normal.”
Kate stared at him, her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest. Sam was the last person she had expected to see at the WI fête. The last person she had ever expected to see again. She had stopped hoping for that a long time ago. Slightly self-conscious, she hooked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up at him.
“So you’re back for good then?” she asked. “Does your mother know?”
“Of course she does.” Sam grinned at her again. “I’m staying there for now. I’m off up country to see some friends tomorrow, and back again on Thursday. Then I shall get a job.”
He sounded so pleased with himself, that Kate couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from twitching.
“A job? You have one lined up?”
“Maybe. I have a few possibilities.” Sam moved a little closer. “We must have a proper catch-up. What are you doing on Friday night? I’ll be back by then; let’s go for a drink and a real chat.”
“Friday? I can’t do Friday. I’m going out.”
&n
bsp; “Cancel it. Come out with me. We have eight years to catch up on.”
“I can’t cancel it.”
“Course you can. Who are you going out with? Is it Jenny? I bet you’re still best friends.”
“Jen will be there.” Kate nodded. “But I can’t cancel it; it’s a party.”
“A party?” Sam’s eyes lit up hopefully. “Can I come with you? It’d be great to see all the gang again.”
“You can’t.” Kate shook her head firmly. “It’s a Hen Party.”
“Oh, right. You mean like a proper Hen Party? For a bride?”
Kate nodded. “Yeah, a proper Hen Party. For a bride.”
“Well, I guess I really can’t come to that then.” Sam smiled again and shrugged. “How about Thursday then? Safer than Saturday when you’ll probably be hung over?”
“Thursday will be fine.” Kate didn’t hesitate. “But I don’t drink much anyway these days, so I’ll be fine on Saturday too. Where shall we go?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven. D’you still live with your parents?”
“No—yes—yes, I do. But no, don’t pick me up. I’ll meet you somewhere.” Kate thought fast. “By the park gates. At seven.”
“All right.” Sam looked at her quizzically. “By the park gates at seven it is, then. Looking forward to it. We have a lot to catch up on.” He winked at her and turned to go.
“And Sam,” Kate called after him, “it’s Kate now. No one calls me Katy any more.”
Sam looked over his shoulder at her. “I do,” he said with a lopsided grin, then disappeared across the grass through the crowds.
Kate’s shoulders slumped, and she covered her face with her hands. She had not been expecting that. That Sam Somerville should turn up again after all these years. And now of all times. She exhaled, aware she had been holding her breath since he walked away, and turned back to the table of scones. Automatically she began the buttering again, her thoughts flying all over the place. She had just agreed to go out on a date with Sam Somerville. Well, not a real date, of course. Just a catch-up. But it would be just her and Sam. And he would want to know all about her. All about the things that had happened to her since he’d been gone. Since that dreadful day just after they left school. He’d ask all sorts of questions she wouldn’t want to answer. And she would want to ask all sorts of questions he probably wouldn’t want to answer. She stopped buttering the scone and stared out across the now muddy field. She would have to cancel. She couldn’t risk—what? She laid down the knife and wiped her hands on her jeans. What couldn’t she risk? Sam finding out…
“Kate, haven’t you finished those scones yet?” Her mother’s voice was mildly annoyed. “You spend far too much time daydreaming. Come on, they need them over at the tea tent.”
“Sorry, Mum.” Kate glanced over her shoulder. “Got a bit distracted. I’m nearly done. Here you go. I’ll bring the rest in a minute.”
“Thank you, darling.” Helen Granger frowned at her daughter. “I understand you have a lot to deal with just now, but you must learn to concentrate better. The least little thing seems to distract you these days.”
“Sorry, Mum.” Kate felt her face flush, and she turned away in annoyance. “It’s fine. I’ll have them done in a minute.”
“Well, stop daydreaming.” Helen gathered up the plates. “You’ll get them done much quicker then.”
Kate stared after her retreating back, then looked down at the remaining scones. She had to get out of here. With a sudden burst of speed she slathered them with the rapidly melting butter, then piled them on a plate. She would deliver them to the tea tent. Then she needed to get away. She needed to think, and possibly to speak to Jenny.
The tea tent was heaving with middle-aged ladies all speaking at once, and Kate squeezed through them, attempting not to make eye contact with anyone, the last two plates of scones held above her head for safety. She arrived at the far side of the tent and deposited her load on the already creaking table.
“Thanks, darling.” Helen smiled at her from where she was refilling the urn, her face red from the steam. “Are you staying to help serve?”
“I can’t, Mum.” Kate began to back away. “I promised I’d…” She tailed off as she realised her mother had stopped listening, and quickly made her escape from the claustrophobic environment. Back out in the fresh air, she paused for a moment, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She had to leave—now. With a final glance back into the tea tent, where she could just make out her mother deep in animated conversation, she ducked under the guy ropes and hurried away across the grass.
The field was only half a mile from their house, and to save getting her car bogged down in the mud, Kate had walked over. She picked her way carefully between the ancient cow pats that lined the path to the gate, and finally made it out onto the road, her flats only slightly muddy. Well, that was one event she was never going to again. No matter how hard her mother begged. She set off down the road just as an overloud voice announced the judging of the flower-arranging competition over the tannoy. Kate shuddered. She was never going to get old. Not if it meant spending one’s Sunday afternoon in a muddy field with over-enthusiastic, tea-drinking women.
By the time she turned up the drive to the house, the first spots of rain were beginning to fall, and Kate couldn’t help a tiny smile curling the corners of her mouth. Imagine the consternation at the fête! She inserted her key into the lock and decided she really wasn’t a very nice person.
Kicking her damp flats into the corner of the porch, she padded through the hall and went straight to the fridge to get herself a glass of wine. She glanced at the clock. Nearly four thirty. Oh, well, she’d earned it. Sod the time. Now what was she going to do about Sam Somerville?
Leaning against the work surface, sipping her wine, Kate found her thoughts getting ever more befuddled. Sam turning up really shouldn’t be affecting her like this. She hadn’t seen him for nearly eight years. She hadn’t even heard from him for about five. Her life was going pretty well. Why had seeing him thrown her into such a state? She took a very long slurp of her wine, walked through to the dining room, and went over to the window. Staring out at the darkening sky, she took a deep breath. She knew why, of course. She just didn’t want to admit it. She really couldn’t afford to let herself admit it. That would get far too complicated. Just for once her life seemed to be going in the right direction. Just for once things were going well. Allowing Sam Somerville to interfere with that would be madness. Yet she knew she was going to meet with him on Thursday.
Kate leant her head against the cool glass of the window and sighed. Why now? Why did he have to come back now? Any other time over the last eight years would have been fine. Any other time but now. She shivered as she remembered just how it had felt when he’d called her Katy. Her whole body had tingled, and she had felt lightheaded. Why did he still have that effect on her? It really didn’t make any sense. She supposed she was going to have to tell Jen. She’d find out eventually anyway; his presence in the village was hardly going to be a secret. Especially not with his parents having such a pivotal role in the life of the community.
She turned away from the now rain-drenched window and fished her mobile out of her pocket. She tapped the screen, then held it to her ear.
“Jen? Hi. You busy? I need to talk.”
“Kate! I was going to call you.” Jenny’s voice floated down the line. “Are you still at the fête worse than death?”
“No.” Kate smiled despite herself. “I managed to escape. But something happened there. I need to tell you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Sam Somerville turned up.”
“What?” Jenny screeched in surprise, and Kate held the phone away from her ear. “What, at the fête? What the hell was he doing there? Did you speak to him?”
“Yes, of course I spoke to him. He came over to see me. He says he’s come home to settle down and get a job.”
“Sam, settle down? Never happ
en. What did you say to him? Did you tell him about—”
“No.” Kate interrupted her. “There wasn’t really the opportunity. He’s going away for a day or so to visit some friends; then he’ll be back on Thursday. I’m going for a drink and a catch-up with him when he gets back.” Kate took a deep breath. “He wanted to go out on Friday, but I told him I couldn’t.”
“Of course you can’t! What did you tell him you were doing?”
“I said I was going to a Hen Night.”
There was a slight pause. “But did you tell him it was yours?”
Chapter 2
“Really, Kate, you might have stayed and helped out a bit.” Helen laid her dripping umbrella in the sink and wriggled out of her raincoat. “You disappeared as soon as you’d buttered the scones. Did you not see how busy it was in the tea tent? I could really have done with your help.”
“Sorry, Mum.” Kate perched on the end of the kitchen table and watched her mother ease her feet out of her muddy Wellington boots. “I buttered hundreds of scones; isn’t that enough? I had things to do.”
“Wedding stuff, I presume?” Helen glanced up at her daughter and gave a little smile. “It’s all right, darling. I understand. It’s a very exciting time for you. A once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
“Sometimes,” Kate muttered under her breath, feeling her face begin to get hot. Suddenly the excitement of the wedding had become a little tarnished. For nearly a year she had been caught up in dress fittings, floral arrangements, choosing menus, catering for awkward guests who only ate nuts that had fallen from the tree, petulant flower girls, and bickering bridesmaids, and she had begun to feel that was the norm. Now the encounter with someone from her previous life had brought it all crashing down around her ears. She had remembered there was more to life than organising a wedding. More to life than actually getting married. “Some people do it twice. Or three times.”
Helen glanced up at her. “What, darling? What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” Kate slid down off her perch and shrugged. “Jen’s coming round in a minute.”
“Now you haven’t forgotten Richard and his parents are coming at seven, have you?” Helen was filling the kettle. “We’re going to finalize the travelling arrangements.”