Rule #1 Don't Fall for Mr. Wrong: Sweet Romantic Comedy (Rules of Dating: Christian RomComs)

by Taylor Hart

  Pain filled her. She blinked back more tears. She could feel that he was going to tell her something horrible. "Beau, just tell me."

  Turning back to her, his eyes looked tired and watery. He gripped her hand so tight she almost pulled away from him. “It’s like I couldn’t see past the hurt. The pain—watching her body go through those treatments. The sadness on her face as I watched her become emaciated.” Tears streamed down his face, and he wiped them angrily. “She wanted kids—lots of kids,” he said in a soft voice. “And she kept telling me to find someone else because I was young and to have lots of kids and to . . . forgive her. Forgive her for leaving.” His face scrunched up in agony. “She wanted me to forgive her? I was her husband. I should have brought her back at the first sign of pain. I should have known. I should have known.” Beau put his head down.

  Sara pulled him into her arms, rubbing his back softly as he cried.

  Her heart was breaking. “I’m sorry.” It was awful. “Life is just so confusing sometimes.” All she could really compare his grief to was the pain of losing her father.

  Pulling back from him she looked into his eyes and said, “I remember my father telling me once that he missed my mom. And that—she’d told him to raise us with faith—that that’s all she wanted—was for us to know the Lord.” Her heart beat faster and she sighed. “I bet your wife is proud of you—for being the good man that you are and coming back to God.”

  “I’m not good.” He sucked in his breath and shook his head for emphasis.

  “Not true, you take care of your mom. You are so good to Martha and Larry. You have a natural kindness for people." She thought of how amazing he was. "You even stopped to help me that day.” She beamed at him. “Even though I was rude. And, you took me home for my dad's funeral. And said it was because of business, which wasn't true."

  He laughed, wiping at his tears. “It was a privilege to be with you."

  "See." She took his hand again. “You're good.”

  Beau frowned, then his face went serious. “Sara. I need you to know that I made some mistakes. Some big mistakes.”

  She shrugged. “I have a past too.” She flung a hand through the air. "And I'm breaking all my own rules, that's just hypocritical."

  “No.” He quickly broke away from her and stood up again. “I don’t think you realize what I mean.”

  Sara watched him pace. It reminded her of her brother, Mark, when he was restless. She let her breath out slowly. “Beau, what happened to you was tragic, but life is all about new beginnings, right? My dad used to say that the best part of life was the unwritten part.” She smiled slowly. “He kinda made fun of my five-year plan too.”

  Beau sat down again, next to her. His eyes looked worried. “I don’t think you understand.”

  “Do you believe that Jesus Christ died for your sins?"

  Beau froze.

  "Do you?" She pressed. She didn't like Beau punishing himself all the time.

  Forcing his hands into the pockets of his t-shirt, he nodded. “I do believe Jesus died for my sins.” The look he gave her was like a little kid, unsure if his parents would love him again or not after he’d defied their wishes.

  “I believe it, too." Warmth rushed through her, witnessing to her that it was the truth.

  Beau blinked.

  "I know Jesus died for all of our sins, so in my mind, it's done. I don’t want to know all your sins, Beau. I don't have to know them. Just the other day, Pastor Paul was talking about how once you have accepted Jesus you don’t have to go around and explain yourself to people. Like you don’t have to tell everyone your past—it’s not who you are anymore. So you move on. That’s what I think you should do—move on.”

  Gradually, one side of his lip turned up and then he smiled, relenting. “Okay, Sara—but if there’s ever a time you want to know all my sins, I'll tell you.”

  She put her finger up in the air in warning. “I don’t. Not now. Not ever."

  He hesitated, then moved closer to her, putting his arm around her. “I don’t know why the Lord allowed someone so wonderful into my life, but I won’t complain about it.”

  Leaning back into the couch, his aftershave filled her and she closed her eyes, taking a breath. This man was pretty amazing.

  His hand brushed against her hair.

  She stared back at him. Hardly able to breathe, to think, to do anything but get lost in him.

  This time his kiss wasn’t quick, but it lingered. “I love you, Sara.” The words formed against her lips. He kissed her softly, again. “And—thank you.”

  She didn't know how to react to his admission of love. “You’ve broken the rules like five times. I think you’ll be docked for that, Mr. Hennings.” Their foreheads were still pressed together, but she knew she didn’t sound very convincing.

  “Really?” He was doubtful.

  “Really.” She easily grabbed for her water sitting on the edge of the chair rest and poured it over him.

  His mouth gaped open. “I cannot believe you just took advantage of me like that.”

  Sara laughed and turned to run for the stairs. Beau quickly threw his water on her. The cold jarred her senses, and she collapsed onto the floor in a fit of laughter.

  He started laughing too and sat beside her, taking her hand.

  “Well,” she said, smiling at him, “I think this will be a fabulous Thanksgiving.” Beau’s words were still seeping into her—rolling around her like the wake of the ocean. Would the—I love you turn into bubbles and disappear if she didn’t say it back?

  Chapter 32

  Thanksgiving Day she woke to the smell of turkey. She and his mom had prepared the turkey the night before and stuck it in the oven around midnight. The company was coming over around noon. Sara stood, pushing back the curtains. The sun was bright, and the snow was melting. The interstate had finally been reopened yesterday evening, and Sara assumed that everyone would be able to make it out.

  Looking around the room, Sara couldn’t get over how comfortable it was. This was one of his three guest rooms, except this one was extra special—with a white, plush rug in front of a small fireplace in a sitting area. And it also had a fancy bathroom with a tiled walk in shower and soaking bathtub with jets. She went immediately to the shower and then back to her room, where she found the clothes she’d worn yesterday laundered and ready for her to wear.

  Sara got dressed and called Mark.

  “Well, hello, sister.”

  “Hey.” She felt her heart breaking thinking about all of them. “I miss you guys.”

  “I know, sis, me too. But we are going to have a rockin Thanksgiving. Rosie’s been cooking, and the house smells great. James asked a couple of people to come that don’t have anywhere to go and one of them is a girl that just moved here, and she is single.”

  Sara laughed, her brother never changed. He was easily distracted at the prospect of having new girls in the house. “Well, good. Is James or Tim close by?”

  Mark passed the phone to each one of them, and they both sounded good, telling her that they missed her and they looked forward to being together at Christmas.

  Sara sat on the bed, looking out of the window, her hair was still wet.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in.”

  “Breakfast is served.” Beau stepped in and put a tray filled with cereal and toast and fruit on the table next to the window.

  Sara laughed. “I could get used to this.” She moved to the small table, and Beau slipped into the chair opposite of her.

  “I hope so.” He looked at her meaningfully, and then said a prayer over the food.

  “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Sara nodded. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  They began eating, and Sara looked at the tiny marks on the plates and teased, “Butterfly dishes are so manly?”

  He laughed. “Mom got these for me. She’s always saying I need a woman’s touch around here. She takes good care of me.”

&nbs
p; Touching the butterfly wings on the plate lightly, Sara reflected, “It seems you both take good care of each other.”

  Beau shrugged. “I guess we do.”

  Sara pressed her finger into the imprinted bumps. “I’ve always loved butterflies. I used to chase them all over the ranch. They just seemed so fragile and free to me. It was like the perfect contradiction: they could fly, but they could also get hurt so easily.”

  Holding his fork in mid-air. “I like that. Fragile and free.” His lip quirked into a half-smile. “It’s like someone else I know.”

  Sara puckered her brow. “No. That’s not me.” She shook her head for effect. And she really meant it. That did not describe her.

  Looking up from his plate of food he snorted. “You have no idea, do you?”

  “Hey, I am very hardy. I grew up in Montana. People there are hardy people.”

  Beau grinned, taking another bite of food and clearly not agreeing with her. He stabbed the air with his fork. “Stubborn maybe, I’ll give you that.”

  She thought about all the times he’d had to help her. “I’ll take stubborn, then.” They smiled at each other, and it was one of those moments that she felt like she was totally connected to someone. Like they completely understood each other.

  Her phone buzzed, and she looked up at Beau before hitting the talk button. Tim’s wife was supposed to be calling her back. She stood to move away from the table. “Hello.”

  “How’s my girl?” Jonathon’s voice sang happily into the phone.

  “Hi. Yeah. Happy Thanksgiving.” Trying to keep her voice even, she felt her cheeks flush.

  Beau cleared his throat and their eyes met.

  “Uh, yeah, I’m here.” Turning away from him, she went to the window. “Uh-huh.”

  The chair scraped the wood floor as he stood, the door shutting behind him quietly.

  “Sara, you’ve been washing dishes for an hour, let me take over.” Beau's mom said to her. It was seven o’clock and all the guests were finally gone.

  “No, Ellen, you seriously did all the cooking. Please, let me do this.” Sara smiled at her. “It’s therapy for me, really.”

  Beau walked into the kitchen with a bunch of plates and set them down next to the sink. “Mom, go. You outdid yourself, as usual. Get going before it ices up too much.” He hugged her to him. “Thank you, Mom.”

  Ellen pulled back, looking a little exhausted. She smiled. “It really was a wonderful day.” She stepped to Sara and gently touched her forearm. “You made it wonderful, dear. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.” She turned and took her coat and purse out of the closet.

  Beau walked her to her car and came back in shivering. His arms came around her waist, and he nuzzled into her neck. “You smell good.”

  Closing her eyes she relished this feeling, of his strong arms holding onto her. She could get lost in the tropical smell of him.

  “I’ve been waiting for them all to leave so I could have you all to myself.” He kissed her gently on the neck.

  “Kissing!” She said it like a kid tells on another kid.

  Beau laughed and kissed her cheek, then her hairline. He turned her in his arms. “Sara, I can honestly say that I never once cheated on anything, but—” He brushed his lips to hers. “I cannot keep this rule.” He kissed her again, longer. Then, he pulled away and kept his arms around her. His face against hers.

  She shook her head but didn’t resist him. “I love the feel of your arms around me.” She snuggled into him.

  “You never have to leave them, you know that, right?” He kissed her cheek and then her hairline again. "You could just choose me."

  Unrest filled her. She pulled away from him. “We have lots of dishes to do, sir.” She turned for the sink.

  “True.” He went to the living room and brought in another pile of dishes. “I think that’s the last of them.” He pulled her apron strings as he walked by.

  “I don’t think you can quit bothering me, Mr. Hennings.” She happily started in on the huge mashed potato pot.

  He laughed and pulled some plastic bowls out to put the food in. “You don’t know the half of it, Ms. Fairbanks.” He methodically went through the leftovers, scraping them all out of their bowls.

  “You’re going to have to come have leftovers tomorrow night after your shift at the University.”

  Sara cleared her throat. "Right, about that." She didn't want to tell him.

  Beau softly sang with the music coming from the iPod speakers. He glanced up at her when she didn’t respond. “What?”

  Averting her eyes, she scrubbed the pot harder.

  “You’ve had something to tell me all day, haven’t you?”

  Sara really didn’t want to tell him. It had been such a nice day.

  He stepped across from the sink bar and put his hands on top of her soapy ones. “What?”

  She sighed. “Well . . .” she thought she should just rip it off like a band aid. “Jonathon’s coming to town tomorrow night. He wants this weekend for his weekend.”

  Chapter 33

  Beau’s eyes were steady. Sara could see him running different scenarios through his brain.

  “I’m not a business that’s being taken over, Beau.” Sara picked up another dish and dunked it into the water.

  Beau looked at her sharply.

  “I just mean, it’s not about a strategy to avoid takeover or anything.”

  He touched her hand, and she looked up at him. “No, Sara, you’re much more important to me than a business.”

  Her heart picked up speed at his intensity. She redoubled her efforts on the dishes.

  Beau went back to putting everything away and wiping counters. The singing and humming had stopped.

  They finished the dishes and she turned to him. “I think I need to get going.”

  Beau leaned back against the counter. “Okay.”

  Sara felt his annoyance at this whole situation but didn’t know what to do about it.

  On the drive home he touched her hand lightly but didn’t say anything. Sara wanted to call the whole thing off—wanted to just say she loved him and they should elope like he wanted. But at the back of her mind was Jonathon. He’d been there for a year. And she had to find out if any of it meant anything.

  Beau insisted on a walk-thru of her apartment, flipping on lights in the kitchen and her bedroom.

  Sara sat on the couch, feeling horrible.

  Stopping abruptly in front of the couch he clapped his hands together and said, “Well—I guess I’ll be going, then.”

  Sara stood. The apartment felt small compared to Beau’s cabin. “Beau, thanks for everything the past couple of days.” Tears were forming in her eyes, and her face felt funny, like it was made of taffy and she couldn’t form a proper goodbye face. “These past few days were really amazing.”

  His eyes bored into hers, and his stance softened. Stepping toward her gingerly he wiped the tears off of her face with his thumb and moaned a little. “How can you do this to me, Sara Fairbanks? One minute I want to forget you and the next I know I'll never forget you."

  Sara felt herself relax. “I’m sorry, Beau. I just have to see this thing through. It’s really better that way.” She pulled away, feeling stronger again.

  He laughed under his breath. “Okay, I’m just going to ask: how is this better?”

  She hesitated.

  “Just tell me what you’re thinking, woman.” He whispered it fiercely.

  “Okay . . . I think I might love you.” She backed away from him and sat down, feeling all the angst inside of her exploding. “See, you really do have an effect on me.”

  “Good.” He folded his arms and waited for her to continue.

  “You have nothing to say to this revelation.”

  His lip quirked. “I’ve suspected it.”

  Sara sighed and rolled her eyes. "The ego!"

  He laughed and sat next to her, taking her hand. “You know I love you. I hoped that you’d po
ssibly be feeling a little the same way.”

  “But think about it. If I never gave this thing with Jonathon a chance, if I never found out what was real . . . I know that sounds silly, but you know I'd always wonder."

  Beau nodded crisply. "You're right."

  “For the rest of my life. Even if it is just a made up idea in my head . . . it’s in there, and I have to see what Jonathon really is. I have to see what we could be together.” Sara cringed and looked away from Beau. “I hate this. I hate that I’m hurting you through all of this, and I feel like we’ve grown so close these last couple of days.”

  “I get it.” His voice was quiet.

  Sara looked up at him. “What?”

  “I get it. It’ll be something that’s in the back of your mind, something that would haunt you when things were bad with us. ‘Did I make the wrong decision?’”

  “Yes.”

  Beau nodded. “Okay.” His eyes were steady. He turned for the door. “So, I’ll see you, then.” He opened the door.

  “Beau.” She suddenly felt lost. Sara realized how much she’d gotten used to him, being with him constantly these past three days.

  She gently touched his shoulder. “I’ll call you?”

  Beau didn’t move. “You better.”

  Sara felt relieved. “Okay.”

  He spun around and kissed her, drinking from her like a man that would be going off to war.

  She couldn’t help it and let out a soft laugh and kissed him back.

  Beau pulled back and grinned. “I have to leave you with something to think about. Goodbye.”

  The door closed softly behind him.

  The office of Academic Affairs was empty. The manager, Mrs. Livingston, had run Sara through some basics of the job and then confided that Thanksgiving was usually dead and there would probably be no one calling or coming in.

  “I was so relieved you could work this weekend, that’s why you got the job, you know.” Mrs. Livingston smiled widely at her and paused at the door. “I’ll train you more next week.”