The Rules According to Gracie

by Stefanie London

  Gracie breathed in her sister’s familiar, comforting scent and the pounding in her head eased. “I wish Dad was still alive.”

  “Me, too.” Emmaline released her, a sad smile on her pale pink lips. “I know Mother’s crazy, but she loved Dad more than anything. I believe deep down she wants the same for us.”

  “You think?”

  “I hope so.” Emmaline paused, studying her. “You’re still thinking about that guy. I can practically hear the cogs turning in your head.”

  “Why?” Gracie moaned into her hands. “Why did I have to kiss him?”

  Emmaline smiled. “I thought you said that he kissed you.”

  “He did.” She sighed. “But I kissed him back.”

  “That makes all the difference.”

  “It does. If I hadn’t kissed him back then I could brush it off as his mistake, not mine. But there was definite reciprocation of the kiss.”

  “Was he good?”

  “The best.” Gracie sighed. “What’s wrong with me, Ems? Why do I do this to myself?”

  “Because you have an eye for trouble?” Emmaline smiled and patted Gracie on the arm. “Because you know he’d make Mother flip out?”

  “That’s precisely why I shouldn’t go out with him.”

  “Do you think there’s something in a relationship with this guy?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Maybe. I don’t know. He wouldn’t fit in with the family, that’s for sure.”

  “And you’re not interested unless it’s long term?”

  “If I go there, there’ll be no coming back.” Gracie sighed. “He’s intense, gorgeous, and perfectly imperfect.”

  “How so?”

  Gracie was unable to wipe the grin that formed on her lips every time she imagined Des. “He’s tattooed and permanently unshaven. He doesn’t do airs and graces, he’s funny, sexy…”

  “He sounds pretty good to me.”

  “What would Mother say if I brought home a guy who looks like you wouldn’t want to cross him in a dark alley?”

  “I’m sure she thinks most guys these days fit that description.”

  “He wouldn’t fit in at the hospital charity functions or the golf days. Mother would probably torture him until he left.”

  Just like the last one…

  Gracie leaned against the kitchen counter and dropped her head into her hands. It was hopeless. She’d been down this route before and it hadn’t ended well. She could still remember the look on her ex’s face when he’d finally given up and left. No one could take years of Cecilia Greene’s emotional battering…no one except Gracie and Emmaline.

  “Does it really matter what mother thinks?” Emmaline asked, as if reading Gracie’s mind.

  “How can you even ask that?” Gracie shook her head and went to the fridge to retrieve the cheesecake her sister had baked. “You know what she’s like.”

  “I think there’s more to it than that.” Emmaline peered at her with shrewd eyes. “You’ve gone against her plenty of times in the past. Why is this different?”

  “You mean apart from the fact that I’ve already lost one guy that I cared about because of her?”

  “I know you thought you loved Ben, but you were both so young. No, there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

  Sometimes she hated how well her sister knew her. Behind her prim, well-mannered exterior, she was sharply intelligent. She understood people, could work out what made them tick. She could look at Gracie and delve into the things she tried hardest to keep hidden.

  “Out with it,” Emmaline demanded.

  “I made a promise to Dad before he died.” She looked up at her older sister, the wave of grief crashing anew. It had been over a year already and she still missed him as though he’d only just gone.

  “What promise?”

  “That I would settle down, get married, and keep Mother happy.”

  Tears prickled at her eyes. She’d made the promise when they were alone. Emmaline and their mother had taken a coffee break and Gracie had stayed back, holding her father’s hand and trying to bargain with the heavens for more time.

  “So that explains the dating obsession.” Emmaline busied herself hunting through the kitchen cupboards until she found a crystal cake platter. She helped Gracie place the cake on the platter and stood back, admiring her handiwork for a moment before continuing. “You know he only wanted you to be happy.”

  “And dating a guy who would drive Mother crazy is going to make me happy?” Gracie shook her head. “No, it’s going to make me miserable like it did last time and then he’ll leave anyway.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “It’s happened once. I don’t want to go through that again.”

  “If it’s not going to work out, then why don’t I set you up with one of Conrad’s friends?” Emmaline asked sweetly as she sliced the cake into perfect wedges.

  The thought of being set up with one of his friends was nauseating, though she was sure her sister knew that.

  “Ems, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have worried you with it.”

  “You’re my sister. Of course you should worry me with these things.”

  “I don’t understand what more Mother wants from me.” Heat rose to Gracie’s cheeks and spilled down her neck. “For god’s sake, it’s not like I’m out partying and getting into trouble. I just haven’t found the right guy yet.”

  “Don’t get upset,” Emmaline said. Her voice was purposefully calming, a skill perfected from years of smoothing the friction between her youngest sister and their mother. “It was only a kiss. Wasn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m so confused.” Gracie shook her head. “I feel like I can’t keep the promise to Dad and go after what I want with Des.”

  “Has trying to keep the promise worked so far?”

  Gracie sighed. “No.”

  “He would want you to be happy and let’s face it, no one is ever really going to please Mother.” Emmaline laughed. “That would be like setting yourself up for failure.”

  “I have set myself up for failure.”

  Emmaline nudged her with a bony elbow. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t try, at the very least.”

  “Where did all this carpe diem advice come from?” Gracie gave her sister a squeeze. Emmaline was usually the voice of conservative reason, the sister more likely to fulfil Cecilia Greene’s wishes. For years Gracie had seen her older sister as a parrot of their mother, but lately she seemed to be distancing herself.

  “I’m realizing that just because something pleases Mother doesn’t mean it’s right.” A strange undercurrent of emotion flickered in her eyes. “I guess what I’m saying is sometimes you have to trust your instincts instead of your head. Instead of your rules.”

  Gracie laid a hand on her sister’s arm. “Is everything okay, Em?”

  “Yes, of course.” The bright smile was immediately back in place. “I think you should go for it, that’s all.”

  Gracie glanced out to the dining table where her mother sat. Cecilia had folded her hands in front of her, a frown pulling her thin lips into a harsh line and her cold blue eyes narrowed at something in the distance. She knew her mother loved her and Emmaline deep down… Unfortunately these days it felt so deep down that the love might not ever see the light of day again.

  “You’re responsible for your own happiness,” Emmaline said, talking almost to herself. “Remember that.”

  Gracie nodded.

  “I think it’s time for some cake.” Emmaline picked up the cake platter and started towards the dining room.

  “I have to go.” Gracie sighed. “This was enough family drama for one day.”

  Emmaline frowned. “Don’t worry about settling down or about pleasing Mother. You need to please yourself. Promise?”

  Gracie forced a smile and gave her sister a kiss on the cheek. Emmaline made it all sound so easy but Gracie knew she’d married to keep their mother happy. She hadn’t taken
her own advice.

  Maybe she wants you to avoid years of being married to someone chosen for the wrong reasons?

  After feigning a problem at the office, Gracie caught the tram to the city. She’d intended to go home, but when First came into view she experienced the familiar gravitational pull. Des had called her a few days ago, but she’d let it go to voicemail and then she’d listened to it over and over to hear the bone-tingling baritone of his voice.

  Gracie, he’d said. I won’t apologize for kissing you because I don’t regret it. But I can’t stand not talking to you. Please call me.

  She had no idea what to say to him—she couldn’t possibly tell him that she’d woken in the middle of each night, hot with the memory of his kiss. She didn’t regret it either, and that was exactly the reason she hadn’t called him back.

  The tram whooshed down the street. She hesitated before jumping up at the last minute to yank the signal chain. A bell dinged and the tram slowed to a stop.

  “You’re a mess,” she muttered, stepping off the tram.

  The sun beat down overhead. First looked full, not unusual for a Saturday afternoon, but this time it made her think twice about going inside. She could see Des through a huge window that ran along the length of the restaurant.

  Her heart thudded as she hovered at the threshold. She was in her weekend clothes, her hair in a boring bun and her face bare. If she wanted to leave a positive impression on Des this probably wasn’t the way to go about it.

  But she couldn’t leave. Somehow, she’d crossed a line and something told her there was no going back.

  You don’t have to do this. You can walk away. You don’t have to come here ever again.

  The thought of not returning to First and seeing Des again made her stomach plummet. Emmaline’s words swirled in her mind: don’t worry about settling down…you need to please yourself.

  If she was being honest with herself, none of the dates she’d been on in the last year had pleased her. The guys were stuffy, boring. There was no zing. No tingle of anticipation, just an overwhelming feeling of here we go again. Wasn’t it about time she did something for herself? Hadn’t she earned it?

  Tomorrow she could go back to being rule-abiding, responsible, good-girl Gracie. Tonight she wanted to be bad. She wanted to break the rules and throw everything she knew out the window.

  Tonight she wanted Des.

  Chapter Five

  He had to keep his hands busy, and serving drinks at First on a Saturday afternoon was the ticket. If he didn’t distract himself, he was at severe risk of calling Gracie again and leaving another gruff, pointless voicemail. Not that it mattered—she hadn’t returned the first one, so why would she return a second?

  Reaching for a bottle of tequila, Des poured a row of five shots for a group of girls in matching pink T-shirts. The bachelorette party was already looking messy, and one of the girls winked suggestively at him as he slid the shots over to their side of the bar. The other men ogled the girls in their tighter-than-tight T-shirts and matching skin-tight jeans, but all he could think was how none of them held a candle to Gracie.

  “Not your type?” Paul took a not-so-subtle look at the girls.

  Des walked over to the shelves where the spirits were housed and shook his head. “Not my type at all.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I strike up a conversation with the blond one?” Paul was a ladies man, and he liked his ladies forward and fair-haired. Lucky for him, First was full of his type over the weekend.

  “Whatever you do on your own time is up to you, bud, but you’re on the clock, so don’t even think about it.”

  “You’re such a buzz kill.” Paul flipped a bottle of vodka and poured a shot into the cocktail shaker in front of him.

  Des often wondered how he and Paul were related—they were chalk and cheese, despite having identical mops of dark hair, darker eyes, and a shared affinity for home cooked Italian food. The younger Chapman brother was his opposite in almost every way—Paul thrived on fast and frequent rotations of the women in his life. He avoided responsibility and seemed quite content to float through life without ambition. He was a good person at the heart of it all, but Des often found himself wishing his brother would grow up and take charge of his life.

  “I’m running a business, Paul.” He rearranged the bottles that had been carelessly stacked out of order. “Not a personal pick-up service.”

  “Hey, don’t take your frustrations out on me.” Paul said, vigorously shaking the cocktail shaker and putting on a show for the ladies sitting at the bar. “Not my fault you refuse to get laid.”

  “Not all of us have the desire to fuck anything that moves.”

  Paul put his palm to his chest. “That hurts. You know I only go for blondes.” He opened the cocktail shaker and poured the pink milky liquid into two tulip-shaped glasses. He pressed a wedge of lime onto the rim of each glass and signalled to a waiter.

  “Seriously, Des, this is becoming a problem. The staff are tiptoeing around you because you’re such a cranky bastard right now.” Paul clapped a hand on Des’s back. “Let me help you out. I’m sure one of those lovely ladies would be more than happy to help you let go of some of that negativity. You can have the brunette…or the redhead. Or both.”

  “I’m not interested.” Des shrugged off his brother’s hand and continued to rearrange the spirit shelf.

  “No, because you’re too hung up on that girl who brings all her dates here.” Paul rolled his eyes. “Can’t you see what’s wrong with that picture?”

  “I’m not hung up on her.”

  “Bullshit. Whenever she comes in you watch her like a hawk and get all moony when she finally gets rid of her guy.” Paul plucked an order from the bar and started working on the next round of cocktails. “It’s pathetic. If you like her, why don’t you take her out?”

  Paul didn’t know about his trip to the market with Gracie, which was probably for the best. He wouldn’t understand something more complicated than a screw-and-dash. Paul kept his dalliances frequent and varied but brief above all else.

  His younger brother had barely entered his twenties when Des’s engagement had fallen apart, and he had been there to ply Des with alcohol until he forgot. His brother was the one who’d helped him wallow, then pushed him to get back out into the dating field, and had supported his idea to open First. He might be the most irresponsible person Des knew, but his brother had stuck by him through a lot of crappy times.

  Would he be asking Paul to do that all again if he kept chasing what he couldn’t have?

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Yeah it is.” Paul nodded towards the bar. “She’s right there. Ask her out.”

  Gracie hovered by the bar. She looked different; her olive skin was clear and glowing, her wild curls restrained into a neat bun on top of her head. There were no dangly earrings, no rose-colored lips, and she wore jeans and a simple white shirt. He’d never seen her in jeans before.

  “I didn’t recognize you, Gracie.” He sauntered over, enjoying the way her cheeks flushed as he drank her in. The tension he’d been holding in his shoulders the last few days melted away, his chest loosened, and the world felt right again.

  “I wanted to talk.” Her dark brows gathered. He got the feeling this was Gracie’s game face, though she still looked cute as hell.

  “Shoot.”

  “In private.”

  Des nodded and motioned for her to come to the other end of the bar. He held the swing door open and let her into the serving area. She followed him to the office. The space felt even more cramped than usual with Gracie next to him; her glorious vanilla scent was intoxicating in the open air, let alone when they were confined in what was essentially a glorified cupboard.

  He motioned for Gracie to take the office chair and he locked the door behind them. The last thing he wanted was anyone barging in when he finally had Gracie to himself. Leaning against the desk next to her, he said, “Talk to me.”


  “I…” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize for the other night, and for not taking your call. I was still processing what happened.”

  “The date?”

  “Well, the kiss more specifically.” Her cheeks colored again, though this time the blush spread all the way down to the open collar of her white shirt. “And that I took your words out of context.”

  “How so?”

  “You said we could be ‘right for now.’ I assumed you viewed me as a one-night stand.”

  Des nodded slowly, holding his tongue so she had her opportunity to get it all out.

  “And,” she continued, “that was me jumping the gun. You never mentioned anything about sleeping together. You only invited me to your place. I don’t know why my mind went there and it was rude of me to say something like that.”

  “Gracie.” He leaned forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, the heat of her skin simmering underneath the thin cotton. “I did invite you back to my place because I wanted to sleep with you.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ and she fiddled with one of her pearl earrings.

  Des leaned back, dropping his hands to his lap. “That doesn’t mean I think of you as a one-night stand. But it also doesn’t mean I’ve stopped fantasizing about getting you naked.”

  “Oh.” She flamed brighter still, then lowered her eyes as she nodded her head slowly. “Well…at least you’re honest.”

  “That I am.” He chuckled. “Perhaps you’re more innocent than I thought.”

  “Why do you say that?” Her eyes snapped back up to his and she pursed her lips.

  She looked prim as a society wife with her pearl earrings and white shirt. If it weren’t for the high gloss and spike heel of her black pumps, he’d have thought he was looking at another woman entirely.

  “Call it a gut feeling.”

  She dragged her lower lip between her teeth and Des averted his eyes. Without the wild hair, jangling jewellery, and sassy attitude, she looked younger, more vulnerable. He’d never once suspected she hid behind those things, but seeing her now was like witnessing her stripped back to her essence.