Breaking Her Rules

by Jennifer Snow

  She quickly tucked the used tissues under her and flipped the station. A graphic sex scene flashed on the set, and the sound of moaning made her eyes widen. What the hell? Porn? She didn’t even know she had that station.

  “Wow, Gracie, I never pegged you for a threesome kind of girl,” Walker said, an amused grin on his face as he tossed his bag into the closet.

  She quickly turned off the television, unsure which would be more embarrassing—letting him believe she was watching porn or admitting to watching an old eighties chick flick. “I thought you had to work tonight?”

  He opened the fridge door and grabbed a bottle of water. “Not tonight. Michaela’s wrist is better and she’s back. But I . . . uh . . . I’ll be out of here in a few minutes. I’m going to shower and then I’ll be heading out.”

  “You don’t have to keep avoiding me,” she said, standing and collecting the used tissues. “We’re both adults.”

  He sighed, looking away from her as he said, “It’s a self-preservation thing.”

  Her heart ached, and all she wanted was to make everything better somehow. “Walker, I’m sorry . . .” she started, but he cut her off.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, Gracie. It was me who took too long to see what was in front of me.”

  Was it too late? She glanced at the half-packed boxes and the ring on her hand, her mother’s words echoing in her mind.

  “Anyway, I’ll be out of here soon,” he said, disappearing into the bathroom.

  Oh God. This was a nightmare. Before, when there was no chance she could have Walker, putting her feelings for him aside had been tough. Now, when he was giving her the choice? It was pure torture.

  Going into the kitchen, she poured herself the rest of the wine.

  ***

  When Walker opened the bathroom door twenty minutes later, Gracie was standing there.

  “Hi,” she said, moving closer to him.

  The smell of wine on her breath was unmistakable. “Are you drunk?” he asked, holding her at arm’s length.

  “No, I just had a glass of wine,” she said, placing her hands on her hips, causing the fabric of her T-shirt to stretch across her chest, giving him ample view of her breasts beneath it. Holy hell, she wasn’t wearing a bra. He was pretty sure she had been a few minutes ago. What was she trying to do?

  Going into the kitchen, he picked up the empty bottle on the counter and tossed it into the recycling bin. “A bottle, you mean.”

  She shrugged. Then, straightening, she walked toward him, using the edge of the counter to steady herself when she swayed slightly.

  Gracie had always been a lightweight when it came to drinking. He remembered coming home from football practice on a Thursday afternoon while their father was away for business, and finding Gracie and Kylie drinking his whiskey. They’d only consumed a little, but Gracie had been plastered. She’d suggested the three of them go skinny-dipping in the pool and had promptly proceeded to remove her T-shirt. He’d stopped her undressing and carried her upstairs to Kylie’s room, where she’d slept it off and woke up with a hangover and a promise never to drink again.

  This time she wasn’t as drunk, and damn, if she started removing clothing at that moment, it would take every ounce of his gentlemanly strength to stop her and put her to bed . . . alone, as he had years before.

  “I was thinking about what you said.” She slid her hands up his forearms, wrapping them around his biceps.

  “What did I say?” He stood motionless, making no move to touch her.

  “That I wasn’t in love with Erik.” Her hands started massaging his shoulders.

  “Gracie . . .”

  “Shhh, I’m trying to say something.” She placed a finger to his lips, gently plucking at his bottom one, staring at his mouth hungrily.

  He clamped his lips together and fought the urge to pick her up, put her onto the counter, and get a closer look at the nipples poking through the thin fabric. She was fucking killing him with that shirt. White, see-through, barely there . . . and she’d probably spent a fortune on it at one of the Caesars Palace Forum Shops. He didn’t care. Once she took it off, it was going in the garbage so he’d never be tempted by it again.

  She slid her hands down the front of his shirt, slipping her finger inside a tear at the waist. “You have a hole in your T-shirt,” she said, glancing up at him through thick eyelashes, her finger tracing his lower abs.

  “Yes I know.” He grabbed her wrists and held her hands away from him. His dick was begging him to place her hands a little lower. “What were you trying to say, Gracie?”

  She looked confused when she looked up at him. “When?”

  He sighed. She was drunk. Having a conversation with her right now was not a good idea, especially when she seemed hell-bent on flirting with him until he couldn’t control himself any longer.

  But on her left hand was the constant reminder of why he had to keep control . . . even if she didn’t. She’d made her choice. And he wouldn’t take advantage of her drunken state to prove to her she’d made the wrong one. They would both only regret it in the morning.

  Keeping hold of her wrists, he headed toward her room. “Come on.”

  She hesitated, looking nervous. “No . . .”

  So, now she was being a tease. Wonderful. He wasn’t sure he liked drunk Gracie. At least not off-limits drunk Gracie. He let out a deep, slow breath. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to try to have sex with you.” Though if he didn’t get her in her bed soon . . .

  She pouted as he shoved her inside the room. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re drunk and because you’re engaged.” That about covered it.

  “Oh. Right.” She moved closer to him and he could smell the wine on her breath. “But not because you don’t want me?”

  Oh sweet Jesus. He was going to bust through his pants any second. He was going to need another shower—an icy-cold one. “No. Not because I don’t want you,” he said, gripping her upper arms, his fingers digging into her flesh.

  She winced and he released her quickly and took a step away. “Get some sleep.”

  “Wait, Walker,” she said, as he went to close the door.

  He paused. “What is it, Gracie?”

  “Will you stay here with me?”

  He closed his eyes, every inch of him wanting to do so much more than just stay with her. He wanted to hold her, touch her, kiss her, make love to her, fall asleep next to her . . . “I can’t, Gracie. Not while you’re wearing that ring.”

  ***

  Gracie’s head felt heavy as her eyes opened hours later. Her room was dark and she fumbled for her cell phone on her bedside table. She peeked through barely cracked eyelids at the time. Six a.m. She rolled onto her back and groaned. Her head felt like it was about to explode. Oh, why had she drunk so much the night before?

  That stupid movie was to blame for most of it . . . and the conversation with her mother had triggered opening the bottle in the first place. She glanced down. She was still in her T-shirt and yoga shorts. She barely remembered going to bed or falling asleep.

  Her eyes shot open. Oh no. Oh shit. Grabbing a pillow, she muffled a cry. Walker. He’d come home . . . she’d come on to him . . . he’d refused her . . . Ahhh. But thank God he did. She tossed the pillow aside and sat up.

  The ring on her hand cast a kaleidoscope effect against her bedroom wall, as it reflected the early morning sun barely shining through the gap in the curtain. She stared at it, trying to recall Walker’s words the evening before.

  Not while she was wearing the ring.

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she looked at the symbol of commitment from Erik—a guarantee of security and never having to worry. A commitment she knew she couldn’t accept.

  How could she when all the while she knew there was something missing with Erik? She’d tried to ignore it, telling herself that real passion and undying love was a fairy tale—one she refused to believe. She’d pushed aside the doubt and une
asiness she’d felt about moving in together, because she’d wanted to believe she was doing the right thing, making the right choices for her future. But she couldn’t keep pretending that she was happy, that she was okay with being at the bottom of his priority list, always taking a backseat to his career. She wasn’t. She wanted the fairy tale.

  She felt nauseated, and the room started to creep in on her. Nothing about this—waking up alone, this weird sense of foreboding, and most of all, the ring on her finger—felt right. She removed the ring and set it next to her phone on the bedside table.

  All this time, she’d thought she’d put her feelings for Walker behind her. But in fact, they’d always been there just waiting to resurface, and it hadn’t taken long—the moment he’d walked back into her life, everything had changed. And she couldn’t undo that. She didn’t want to undo that.

  Her heart still belonged to Walker, and if there was any chance she could finally be with the man she’d always loved, she had to take that risk.

  But Walker was right. First, she needed to end things with Erik.

  ***

  He was on the phone when she entered his office later that morning. The lightness she’d felt earlier that morning had gradually faded away the closer she got to the office, to Erik. Her heart was heavy, but she had to do this right away, before her head was able to talk her out of it. Before confusion and doubt over the decision tormented her into an indecisive stalemate.

  Bottom line—she couldn’t marry a man she didn’t love.

  He glanced at her and frowned when she sat. He covered the mouthpiece. “This may be a while.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll wait.” There was no way she could leave his office without telling him they were over and returning the engagement ring. She hated that they had to have this conversation at the office, but his busy schedule had left her with no time to see him outside of work for at least a week, when they were supposed to be moving in together.

  It couldn’t wait.

  He must have sensed it was important, because he said into the phone, “Dallas, I’ll have to call you back in a bit, okay . . . Yeah, go ahead with that . . . and I’ll call you back once I confirm next month’s card.” Then hanging up the phone, he said, “What’s wrong? Is there something wrong with the promo sheets?”

  Immediately his thoughts went to work. “No. The promo sheets are fine. They went to the printer yesterday.” She knew that would be his next question.

  “Well, what’s so important?”

  She should be. She should be at least somewhere on his priority list. But she wasn’t. And she’d thought she was okay with that. But she wasn’t. She wanted someone who got excited to see her, who wanted to spend time with her, building a future together, someone who actually looked at her. Who gave her butterflies. Like the way Walker did.

  She cleared her throat and started to speak, but he stopped her. “Are you still sick? You look kind of sick still . . .”

  “A little, but I’m actually hungover today,” she said, not sure why she was telling him.

  “Hungover? I thought you were packing last night.”

  So he had heard something she’d said. “I was, but actually, Erik, that’s what I need to talk to you about.”

  “Is there an issue with the movers? ’Cause I paid a deposit . . .” He reached for the phone and she put her hand out to stop him.

  “It’s not about the movers.” If he would stop trying to guess what she was about to say, that would make this easier. “Let me talk. Please.”

  He let go of the phone. “Where’s your ring?” he asked.

  Oh God. Here we go. “Right here.” She handed it to him. “Erik, I can’t marry you . . . and I can’t move in.” There. She’d said it. Wasn’t a weight supposed to be lifted from her? Instead, she felt a crushing heaviness on her chest as she waited for him to respond.

  “I’m not following. The movers are still a go . . . you picked up those boxes yesterday, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but I can’t do it.” She stood. “Erik, are you even in love with me?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  If she did, she wouldn’t have needed to ask. She shook her head. It didn’t matter anyway. She wasn’t in love with him. She loved the idea of him, of them. She might even love him, but she wasn’t in love with him. Not like she was in love with Walker. And it was painfully obvious now that she was. “I thought this was what I wanted, but it isn’t.”

  He looked more confused, as if this had complicated his day, instead of genuinely upset. “We are so good together. You said so yourself.”

  “Yes, I know. And we were. We are. But there’s something missing. You have to feel it too. The lack of connection, lack of passion . . .” She got out of her chair and paced his office, desperate to make him realize what she had. They weren’t right for each other.

  “We had passion. In the beginning. It fades.” He stood and came around the desk. “Please tell me this is not about Walker.”

  She stared at the floor at her feet.

  “You can’t be serious. You’re willing to give all of this up for some fighter who can’t even afford his own apartment without Daddy’s money?”

  She bit her lip, not wanting to get into an argument about Walker.

  “Grace . . .” He rubbed her shoulders. “Look, you two have a history. I get it. And I’ve overlooked a lot the last few weeks, because I know once we’re living together . . .”

  He’d overlooked a lot? Actually, he had. He’d overlooked her for far too long. “It’s not just about Walker. I’m not in love with you, Erik, so I can’t move in and I can’t marry you. I’m sorry.” She was. She wished she could go back two weeks and continue not knowing what being in love felt like. She wished she could once again push Walker to the back of her memory and move forward with the life she’d had planned.

  But she couldn’t.

  His phone rang.

  If she was making the wrong choice, he would let it ring, she thought, part of her almost wishing he would.

  He reached for it. “Erik Johansen,” he said as if they weren’t in the middle of a life-changing conversation.

  She squeezed his arm, and with a sad smile, she left him to his phone call.

  Chapter 11

  “Oh my God, Kylie. What did I do?”

  “Take a breath. You did the right thing finally,” her friend said on the other end of the line. “And you know that’s not easy for me to say considering it’s my brother you’re in love with. Yuck.”

  Grace paced her living room, feeling on the verge of a panic attack. “How can you be so sure? I mean, up until two weeks ago . . .”

  “You mean until Walker reminded you what real feelings were.”

  “Okay, either way, up until then, my life was great. A fantastic career . . .”

  “A good-paying career. You can’t say you love what you do . . .”

  “A wonderful, successful boyfriend . . .”

  “A boring, safe relationship . . . Gracie, trust me. You did the right thing,” Kylie said. Behind her, Grace could hear the call for last-minute boarding, as her friend was flying back to California that day.

  “Do you have to go?”

  “Nah, I’ve got at least ten minutes and four warnings from the flight attendants before they take the phone away. Look, think about it. Did you really want a life where you woke every morning knowing exactly what was going to happen? No excitement. No adventure?”

  She was nodding. “Yes! I was okay with that. There is nothing wrong with boring and predictable.” She should call Erik, tell him she’d made a mistake, put the engagement ring back on . . . and live happily ever after, without a care in the world.

  Without a spark in the world either.

  “Do you hear yourself? Seriously, Gracie, you’re depressing me with this life plan of yours you thought was so great. Look, I know you will do anything not to be like your mom.”

  She stopped pacing. “Understatem
ent.”

  “But you’re nothing like her. You have to realize that. But marrying a man for all of the wrong reasons is not the answer either.”

  “But what are the right reasons?” she asked as her apartment door opened and Walker came in. When his gaze met hers, she knew the answer. “Kylie, I have to go.”

  “Okay, call me if you need me to talk sense into you again.”

  “Will do.” But she knew all she needed to convince her she’d done the right thing was standing right in front of her.

  ***

  Why was Gracie staring at him like that? Silent, unmoving, an odd expression on her face, she continued to stare at him. Placing the extra set of house keys she’d given him on the counter, he swallowed hard before saying, “So, I found a place.” Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Do it quick. Still hurt like a son of a bitch, but then the healing process could begin.

  Her mouth fell as her gaze landed on the keys. “Already?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Three blocks from here.” He’d been hoping to be farther away, but he needed to be close to the gym and work, and the rent was reasonable.

  “That’s great. W-when do you move in?” she asked.

  “It’s vacant, so anytime I want. I thought I’d move my stuff over there tonight.” He’d paid the guy half a month’s rent to move in right away instead of waiting out the six days. He couldn’t be around Gracie knowing there was no chance of a future with her. Seeing her at the MFL’s office and at the events, seeing her with Erik, would be hard enough.

  She came toward him. “You don’t have to go,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  “Yeah, I do.” He opened the closet and took out his suitcase. But her hand on his made him stop. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Gracie . . .”

  “Shhh,” she said, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his.

  His arms hung at his sides and his eyes widened in surprise as her mouth crushed his with an intensity that almost buckled his knees. What was she doing? Gripping her shoulders, he took a step away from her.