The Off Limits Rule: A Romantic Comedy (It Happened in Nashville Book 1)

by Sarah Adams

  Ethan smiles, glances down at my phone in my hand, and looks back up to my face. “Everything okay?”

  “Definitely. Just…the sitter needing advice on how to get Levi to bed.” Yep, I’m the worst. Super.

  “Gosh,” he says, leaning back in his chair and unbuttoning the top of his suit jacket. “I do not miss those days—the sleepless nights and all that. I swear it gets easier, though. Just hang in there.”

  Blehhh, this is so boring. If I wanted to talk about kids, I could have joined a mom’s stroller club. Did I squeeze into this hotrod dress and spend too long applying eyeliner so we could talk about the kids we are trying to get away from for a night? Is this my future? I don’t think I’m being fair, though. He’s actually a super-nice guy, and he’s being sweet to appeal to the parental side of me. Problem is, I feel like we’ve already been married for five years—and not in a good way. I need some spark, some tension, some…

  Cooper is calling.

  Code red, people! COOPER IS CALLING ME!

  In an incriminating movement, I jerk my phone off the table before Ethan can see the shirtless picture Cooper apparently assigned as his caller ID in my phone. When did he do that? And how did I miss it happening?

  “I’m sorry,” I say to Ethan, looking deeply apologetic. “I need to take this.”

  Poor Ethan. He’s so sweet. “Of course! Take your time,” he says, wrongly assuming this is my sitter calling me.

  I swipe open my phone and hold it to my ear, angling myself slightly away from the table. “Hello?”

  “Why do you always do that?” Cooper says, like it’s the most normal thing to interrupt my date like this and launch right into a private conversation.

  I fumble with my silverware and sneak a glance at Ethan with a polite smile. “Do what?”

  “Talk down about yourself being a mom. I can’t take it anymore. You’re beautiful, Lucy, and you’ve got a great body that doesn’t need constant prefacing that you think it’s flawed. And you know what else?” He’s really fired up. “Being a mom doesn’t make you less appealing. It makes you the whole package.”

  My face is blood-red now—basically, the same color as my dress—as I scan my eyes across the restaurant until I spot Cooper, standing in the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. He’s staring right at me.

  I can’t have this conversation with him right now. I shouldn’t even be talking to him. And if Ethan knew I was talking to another man on our date, he’d be out of here so fast I wouldn’t even be able to say his name. Which…maybe wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world? No, it would, and I’m a terrible person.

  “That’s okay,” I say in a fake happy tone while narrowing my eyes at Cooper. “Just give him an extra sip of water and I’m sure he’ll go right to sleep.”

  Cooper frowns momentarily before he realizes what I’m doing. “Ohhhh. He thinks you’re on the phone with your sitter? Okay, I can have some fun with this. What color underwear do you have on?”

  “YEP. NO PROBLEM! SEE YOU LATER.” And I hang up quickly.

  Ethan frowns at my crazy-lady smile. “She can’t get him to bed?”

  “Nope, sure can’t. Will you excuse me a minute? I need to use the restroom.” I’m already standing and barreling toward the hallway.

  Cooper is still standing there, leaning against the wall and smirking at me like he knew even before I did that I’d be meeting him back here. I push him farther down the hall, and his eyebrows lift. Shoot, he looks so sexy tonight in this black button-down and slate-gray dress pants. He doesn’t look businessy. He just looks impeccable.

  “What is your aim here? Are you trying to sabotage my date? Is this a prank? WHAT IS IT?” I say, backing him against the wall and jabbing my finger into his chest.

  He breaks the unspoken friendship rules and reaches out to run a hand from my shoulder down my arm. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  He shrugs, giving me an adorable, unsure, tilted smile. “I guess I’m just here as a friend to look out for you…since Drew isn’t in town.”

  I narrow my eyes, every inch of my skin aware of how his hand is still holding my wrist. “A friend…to look out for me,” I repeat, having trouble getting that explanation to match up with his actions.

  “But then I saw how bored you looked and couldn’t take it. I wanted you to have some fun.”

  “So, you were just trying to get a rise out of me when you said all that on the phone? About my…well, you know.”

  “No. I was just being honest.”

  “Oh…” I don’t know what to do with this information. Cooper is touching me tenderly, but he’s not making any moves to take us past friendship. I want to ask if this is a product of the bro code, but once again, I’m scared. Maybe he’s just a touchy-feely guy. WAIT—he’s here on a date! The scoundrel, sneaking off to hold another woman’s wrist in a darkened hallway!

  I pull my hand away. “And how do you think your date would feel if she knew you snuck off to call and tell me all that?”

  He shrugs one shoulder. “Fine. We’re not on a date. Just old friends hanging out, and she’s knows I’m back here calling you. I told her what I was going to do.”

  “Oh…well, I hope you two have a very nice time.”

  “That wasn’t fun to say, was it?” Ugh, I’m no match for that smile. I need to get out of here. I’m about to push him into one of those bathroom stalls and become really good friends with him.

  I begin backing away slowly. “Quit doing all…this.” I wiggle my fingers in his general direction.

  He smiles softly and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “All what?”

  “You know.” I let my eyes rake over him one last greedy time.

  “Fine, I’ll try.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “You’re right. Better put your phone in your purse if you don’t want to blush all night. Your inbox is about to see some real action.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  His grin says, Wanna bet?

  I turn away and attempt to cool my skin when Cooper calls out to me one more time. “Luce.” I pause, and my skin flushes at hearing my nickname on his lips. “Be confident tonight and have fun. You’re an amazing woman, and he’s lucky to be out with you.”

  If that’s true, then why aren’t you out with me?

  What. A. Bust.

  As far as getting-back-in-the-game dates go, that one had to be the worst. Cooper came in like a shot of tequila, all smooth, crisp, and enticing, and wrecked my system. I couldn’t focus the rest of the night. Cooper was right when he said my message inbox would get some action. Except, instead of making me blush, I mainly had to try very hard not to laugh. Ethan, though—darling Ethan—luckily wasn’t even fazed by my lack of attention. I think he has his own version of Cooper somewhere out in the world, too, because he was just as distracted. We both agreed to get the check as soon as socially acceptable and parted as barely acquaintances (but I know all of his daughter’s favorite foods, so that’s something).

  If only I knew if Cooper is actually into me and is just staying away for the sake of respect for my brother, I’d talk to Drew about it and tell him to back off because I’m a grown woman who is capable of making her own decisions. I mentally tell my brother all about my sophistication and adult accomplishments while pulling on my dinosaur PJ pants and an oversized shirt I got at the planetarium that says I’m stellar! I wrap my hair in a bun on the top of my head, take out my contacts, and put on my glasses. After brushing my teeth, I plop down on the couch, happy to overindulge in a night of binge-watching something romantic.

  Two minutes into streaming my favorite Turkish romance (don’t knock it till you try it), the doorbell rings. In moments like these, I still feel like a child, unsure of whether I should get the door or not. It’s late. I’m not expecting anyone, and sadly, I didn’t order any food. There’s a 50/50 chance a murderer is on the other side of that door, waiting to make me the next Da
teline story.

  I do that thing where you put the TV on mute and hunker down, trying to trick whoever is at the door that they were only hearing things before and you’re not really home. Wait…but then will they just break in? I’ve lived without my parents for several years now, but I’m still not good at it.

  My phone suddenly rings and makes me jump out of my skin. I frown at the caller ID flashing Cooper’s abs at me and wonder if I actually drifted off to sleep. This feels a lot like a dream, where there are too many moving components and eerie feelings to fully be able to process what’s going on. I bet a clown will walk through that door next and go make himself some lasagna in the kitchen. Sadly, that’s a reoccurring dream I have.

  “Cooper?”

  “I’m at your door. Will you come let me in before this old lady staring from her porch calls the cops on me? Oh gosh, her phone is to her ear. I think it’s happening.”

  I let out a deep breath and toss the blankets off my lap. “You scared me! What are you doing here? It’s so late.”

  “Let me in and you’ll see.” Why do I feel like he’s going to be dressed like Magic Mike on the other side of this door? One can only hope.

  I open the door to Cooper, still dressed in his nice clothes from dinner, but he’s unbuttoned one extra button and untucked his shirt. One hand is pressing his phone to his ear, the other holding up a bottle of wine. “Post-bad-date sustenance.”

  Yeah, more like late-night bad decision waiting to happen.

  Lucy’s gaze bounces from the bottle of wine in my hand to my eyes, and she swallows. I start to feel stupid still holding up the wine, and also a little concerned she might turn me away. It sounds egotistical, but I haven’t been used to women keeping me at arm’s length or turning me away this past year. The fact that she doesn’t throw the door wide open and start undressing before I’ve made it across the threshold is refreshing—sort of.

  Finally, she steps aside and gestures for me to come in, but her eyes are skeptical. She’s going to keep me on a short leash until she knows what I’m about.

  When I walk into the living room, I notice the house is completely dark except for the glow of the TV. I look at my watch; it’s only ten thirty. But, yeah, I guess that’s actually pretty late to be ringing the doorbell of a home with a sleeping child inside. Shoot, now I feel terrible.

  “I didn’t wake up Levi, did I?” I ask, turning back around to follow Lucy into the kitchen after she takes the wine from my hands.

  She chuckles quietly. “No. He’s with my mom tonight. And even if he wasn’t, he sleeps like a rock. I imagine I’ll have to dump cold water on him when he’s a teenager.”

  Oh, so Levi’s not here. And neither is Drew. So that means…we’re alone in here?

  Now I’m contemplating the wisdom of this late-night adventure as I track Lucy moving around her kitchen. Her bun is an enormous mess of auburn waves, her shirt is so big it’s nearly falling off her shoulder, and she’s wearing thick-rimmed glasses. And don’t forget the famous dinosaur sleep pants. She’s so freaking adorable I almost can’t handle it.

  “I can feel you judging my outfit,” she says as she pours red liquid into two stemless wine glasses.

  “Not judging.” I move to stand closer to her. “Admiring.”

  She quirks her mouth into a skeptical grin and leans a hip against the counter. I watch her lips make contact with the glass as she takes a slow sip. “You’re so full of lines.”

  I hold up a hand in the universal sign of scout’s honor. “I’ve never given you a single line. Only honesty.”

  She’s looking for a way to call my bluff. Vast, deep blue eyes search mine then shift to my mouth, looking for any signs of a teasing smile. Back up to my eyes. She takes another sip and tips her chin toward her shoulder. “Okay, then maybe I’ll wear this little number to my next date if you think it’s attractive.”

  Her words are a cheap shot to my gut. “Next? Are you going out with Ethan again?” From where I sat, it looked like both of them would have rather been at the dentist. Maybe I was wrong?

  “Gosh, no. I now know firsthand how terrible it is to have to listen to someone drone on and on about their kid, but I had two more of Drew’s friends text me tonight asking if I’d like to go out sometime, so I can only imagine how many of them he gave my number to. I’m worried he’s trying to rival eHarmony.”

  My teeth clench together. So, it’s not that Drew is against Lucy dating one of his friends; it’s strictly me he doesn’t want his sister going out with. Cool. That feels great and not at all messed up.

  “You okay?” Lucy asks when she notices the storm cloud that has settled over my head.

  “Yeeeeep,” I say, drawing out the word a little too long before taking a deep drink of wine and letting it warm my chest. How am I going to watch Lucy go on more dates? Whatever. I’ll have to worry about that later because, right now, I’m here alone with Lucy. Me. Not Ethan. Not any of the other guys. ME.

  And apparently, when I get jealous, I turn into a caveman. Me get Lucy.

  She watches me with an amused, calculating look, letting me know I must be openly displaying more of my jealousy than I realize. Sometimes, I can’t handle her eyes on me like this. It makes me want to fidget, and I’ve never been a fidgeter before. I reach up and flick one of her unruly locks of hair, tossing her my best attempt at a relaxed grin just so she doesn’t look too hard and find all my flaws and insecurities. “What are we watching tonight, Marshall?”

  Her eyebrows rise, making her glasses shift a little on her face. “You want to watch with me? It’s a Turkish romance. I doubt you’d be into it.”

  “Try me.”

  And that’s how I wound up on Lucy’s couch, drinking wine and watching a sappy show until the early hours of the morning. At some point during the night (I think after her second or third glass), Lucy’s legs ended up draped across my lap. They are still there now, and I have one hand on her foot and the other covering her shin. The side of her face is sort of smooshed against the couch cushion, and we both angrily groan when, once again, the show cuts off with the main couple’s lips hovering a hair’s breadth away from each other.

  “WHY DO THEY KEEP DOING THIS TO ME?!” Lucy says with overly dramatic, slurring words, shoving her whole face into the cushion and sloshing a tiny bit of wine onto her t-shirt. I’ve lost count of how many glasses she’s had now, and her raised blood-alcohol level is showing.

  I laugh and tighten my grip on her foot, liking how freely I get to touch her when it’s just us. “Should we start another one and see if they finally kiss?”

  Lucy’s head pops up and her glasses are askew, eyes a little glazed. I right the frames on her face and can’t help the sappy smile I feel on my mouth. I can’t remember the last time I felt this comfortable and happy. Is this why all my friends with girlfriends and wives always disappear? I thought it was because their women wouldn’t let them go out anymore. Turns out, it’s that the men don’t want to leave.

  “No. They’re never going to kiss. This show is one nevvvver-ending tension torture device.” Her words stick in a few places, but she finally manages to get it all out. And then her gaze swings toward the TV, smile slowly fading. “'Sides, it’s not good to watch stuff like this.”

  “Why not?” I watch closely as Lucy reaches up and tugs her hair free of her bun. Wild auburn locks fall down around her shoulders, and I stare in amazement at how beautiful she is even when she’s in this state. But it’s not just Lucy’s skin, hair, and eyes that contribute to her beauty. It’s every smile, every laugh, every little thing she does for her son and did for me when I was sick. It’s all of it. I meant it when I said I thought Lucy was the complete package. She’s too good to be true.

  She gathers all of her hair and pulls it to the side, sectioning off three pieces and stumbling over her own clunky hand coordination, attempting to braid it. She’s doing a poor job and has very clearly tipped over into I’ve-had-too-much-land. “Because it’s not re
al. In life, the guy doesn’t wait a hundred years for the most romantic moment to kiss the girl. He sleeps with her right away, gets her pregnant, and leaves her sorry butt with a baby.”

  The vessels of my heart constrict at the sight of Lucy. A broken-hearted woman is bad enough, but a broken-hearted woman who’s a little drunk, slurring, and spilling her wine as she tries to balance the glass and tame her hair…it’s too much. She looks like a wounded baby bird, and all I want to do is scoop her up, take her home, and protect her until her wings heal.

  First, I take Lucy’s wine out of her hands and place it on the coffee table because she’s had enough. Then, I scoot a little closer and move her hands so I can pick up where she left off. Her eyes meet mine, and with an overly dramatic breathy flair, says, “You know how to braid?!”

  I laugh and continue to move my hands through her soft locks, overlapping strands and moving slowly as I go. Being this close to Lucy and keeping things strictly friendly is the equivalent of jumping off a roof with the hopes of defying gravity. “I have several female cousins. Any time we would get together for the holidays, they would teach me stuff, like how to braid hair and paint nails.”

  “And you wanted to learn?”

  I give her a half-smile. “Around age thirteen, I realized if I knew how to braid hair, I’d be a hit at summer camp.”

  “Were you?”

  I meet her eyes and wag my eyebrows playfully. “Best summer ever.”

  Lucy laughs and shoves my arm. I pluck her hair tie from her fingers and wrap it around the end of the braid. When I look back at her face, I find her watching me closely, head leaning against the couch, legs still draped over my lap. “Jamanji was an idiot.”

  A laugh shoots from my mouth, and I lay my head back against the cushion, eyes level with Lucy’s. “Janie.”

  She frowns and shakes her head a little. “No, I’m Lucy.”

  “No—not you, drunky. My ex’s name is Janie.”

  “Ohhhhh. Yeah, that’s what I said.” Lucy shrugs her bare shoulder, drawing my eyes to the sharp line of her collarbone and velvety skin. I reach over to pull her t-shirt back up to cover her.