The Aubrey Rules

by Aven Ellis

  “Captain, if you don’t smile I’m not letting you watch Shark Week,” I blurt out.

  Beckett blinks, startled that I’m talking to him like his girlfriend in public. “What?”

  “You heard me,” I say, feeling more confident. “No Shark Week for you. I’ll make you watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s instead. I’ll reenact my favorite scenes. And you know I can’t act so it will be dreadful. So you’d better start smiling if you want to be spared.”

  Then I see it. His shoulders relax. Beckett’s eyes are sparkling.

  “Would that be a messy bun and yoga pants kind of day viewing?” he quips.

  Now I’m blushing. Tom studies me, which makes my face grow even warmer, but I hope he’s impressed that my plan to distract Beckett is working.

  “Perfect,” Ben says, snapping away. “Beckett, can you look at me?”

  So for the rest of the shoot, I keep talking to him. I make him laugh, I banter with him, and by distracting him, he’s not so focused on how miserable he is. After the first round is finished, Ben shows the shots to Beckett and Landy, and Tom and I get to see them, too.

  I feel nothing but joy when I see the smile on Beckett’s face. He appears natural, at ease, happy—all from my words. I love the fact that I can bring out this side in him, the side nobody usually sees from the serious, shy captain.

  “Next we’ll do individual shots,” Ben says. “Let’s take ten minutes and then we’ll start up again.”

  “You’re doing great, Beckett,” Tom says. “Stay relaxed. Have fun with this.”

  “Aubrey makes it a lot easier,” Beckett says, smiling at me.

  “Well, good, I’m glad she can help,” Tom says. A phone rings, and Tom retrieves it from his pocket. “Please excuse me for a moment.”

  Tom walks away, and I’m finally alone with Beckett.

  “See?” I say, smiling up at him. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  Beckett flashes me a grin. “It’s awful, but it’s manageable with you here.”

  Awwwh! I practically melt from his sweet words.

  “When you talk to me I focus more on what you’re saying rather than all this,” Beckett continues, inclining his head to the camera equipment and lights. “You bring out the better side of me.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I bring out a different side of you. Not better. Because being serious and shy is a wonderful part of who you are, equally as wonderful as your teasing, smart ass side. All of that makes you Beckett.”

  The man I love, I think.

  “You see me in a way nobody else does,” Beckett says softly.

  I feel a lump rising in my throat. I know how much that means to him. That I see all parts of him and embrace every bit of it. I don’t care that he’s famous. I don’t care that he’s incredibly awkward and shy with people. I love how all these components make him into the incredible man that I fell in love with.

  I’m about to say something but Beckett speaks first.

  “You know Valentine’s Day is next weekend,” Beckett says.

  Oh!

  “It is,” I say, an excited feeling sweeping through me.

  “And I’ll be in Miami. Then on to Tampa.”

  “Right,” I say, dying to know what he’s thinking.

  “So when I get back from Florida, we can have a belated Valentine’s Day celebration. And because I’m your boyfriend, I guess I could sit through Breakfast at Tiffany’s if that would make you happy,” he says slowly.

  My mind instantly snaps into overdrive.

  “Yes!” I say happily. “We could make a romantic dinner, open a bottle of wine, and watch the movie together. It’s my favorite movie, it really is, it’s so funny and cute. We can have some kind of chocolate dessert, too, I can pick up something while you’re out of town, maybe a cake or oh! Truff—”

  “Or,” Beckett says, cutting me off, “I could surprise you.”

  I stop mid-sentence.

  “Surprise?”

  “Yeah,” Beckett says, his eyes dancing.

  I can’t help but tease him. “You don’t seem like a man of surprises,” I say, grinning. “I saw your YouTube video where you were asked about planning a romantic date, you know. If I recall, the answer was, ‘um . . . go out to dinner.’”

  Beckett blushes, and he’s so cute I want to kiss him all over his gorgeous face.

  “I can be a man of mystery,” Beckett deadpans.

  I begin laughing, and he does, too.

  “You don’t have to be a man of mystery for me,” I declare.

  “I’ll pull off the romantic date,” Beckett counters.

  “Okay, I’m putting the Valentine’s Day celebration in your hands,” I say happily.

  “Beckett, Landy, are you guys ready?” Grace asks.

  “Be right there,” Beckett calls out. Then he turns and lowers his head so his lips are against my ear. I shiver from his nearness and inhale the scent of cologne faintly lingering on his skin.

  “You’ll be saying Captain Sexy Ass by the end of our Valentine’s Day date,” he whispers in my ear.

  Oooooooooooh!

  Suddenly I have no doubt my captain will give me a Valentine’s Day experience to remember.

  Chapter 29

  The Aubrey Rules To Live By, Rule #29: Never get swept up in the fake, commercial-driven holiday Valentine’s Day. It’s all forced feelings into cards, flowers that will die, and overpriced dinners.

  **Amendment** This rule is in obvious need of an amendment. If one is in love, it is a day to celebrate it. Therefore, the rule is amended that if one is in LOVE, Valentine’s Day is a very good holiday to share together.

  **Note** Captain Smart Ass will not tell me what we are doing on our belated Valentine’s Day date. It is driving me crazy.

  **Note #2** I wonder if he will tell me that he loves me.

  **Note #3** I WOULD DIE IF BECKETT SAID “I LOVE YOU.” OOOOOOOOOOOH, I WANT HIM TO TELL ME THAT SO BADLY!

  **Note #4** Of course, this is Beckett. Odds are good he won’t say it. He’s methodical. Too soon for him to be in love.

  **Note #5** BUT WHAT IF HE DID LOVE ME ALREADY?

  **Note #6** Valentine’s Day is officially the best holiday EVER.

  I’m giddy.

  I can’t think of any other way to describe how I feel. I have this excitement running through me and it has since I got up this morning.

  Of course, even though Valentine’s Day was last weekend, it’s been my Valentine’s Day since the moment I woke up. First, Beckett gave me a key to his place before he left for Florida and had me spend the night at his place the night before. He got in late, but still brought me breakfast in bed, complete with my favorite drink from Starbucks and chocolate-filled croissants from a French bakery. I asked how he pulled this off and apparently it pays to be friends with the concierge in the building.

  Then I arrived at work to find a dozen gorgeous red roses had been delivered for me, with a card that told me to plan on dinner and wearing my little black dress tonight. I knew he had something up his sleeve when he asked me if I had a black cocktail dress in my closet. Luckily I do. A gorgeous Alice + Olivia dress I snagged on sale last spring, and I can’t wait for Beckett to see me in it this evening.

  We’ve also been exchanging flirty texts all day, and best of all, Beckett assured me I’ll be leaving early today—at four, to be exact—because he asked Tom to let me off early so I could get ready for our dinner date.

  Definitely a perk of dating a client, I think slyly.

  So needless to say, I’ve been worthless at work all day. I’m monitoring Beckett’s accounts, sent a picture of the breakfast tray he made me his morning that got his female fans all gooey inside, posted a similar message on his Connectivity public
page, and will do something with him tonight for his Instagram account.

  Okay, so not totally worthless. I’ll correct that to mostly worthless.

  “Aubrey!” Mallory bellows from her office. “Bring in those files please!”

  I flip my Kate Spade notebook shut—as I was busy scribbling all the different ways Beckett has changed my rules on romance and how much I love him—and gather up all the folders she is having me inventory. I glance down at my watch. It’s three-thirty. Only thirty minutes until I can go home and begin preparing for tonight. Yay!

  I turn to get up and accidentally catch my hip on some of the completed folders and send them and my notebook flying to the floor. Crap. I bend down to pick them up when I hear Mallory again.

  “Are you coming, Aubrey? I don’t have all day.”

  I clench my teeth. “Yes, I’ll be right there.”

  I scoop everything up in a hurry and take it into her office, setting it down on her desk. I glance at her computer monitor. Today’s she’s been investigating backsplash tiles. I see we’ve now progressed to a metallic tile as opposed to the mother-of-pearl ones she was considering before lunch.

  “Please begin reviewing,” Mallory says, not even turning around.

  “Of course,” I say pleasantly. I reach for the top stack—the ones I didn’t drop—and flip open a file. I’m about to read when she turns around in her chair and studies me.

  “I think I feel my blood sugar crashing,” she says, putting her fingertips dramatically to her temples. “Please go get me something to eat.”

  “Um, okay,” I say. “Do you want me to run down to Starbucks and get you a banana?”

  Mallory sighs dramatically. “No. I need a custom pressed juice.”

  “You’ll have to get that yourself today, Mallory. Your coordinator is leaving early today.”

  I nearly leap out of my chair at the sound of the familiar voice. I whip around and see Beckett standing in the doorway.

  “Beckett!” I cry happily. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have a surprise for you,” Beckett says, grinning at me. He shifts his gaze to Mallory for a moment. “I arranged it with Tom. He said it’s perfectly fine that Aubrey leave at three-thirty instead of four, so I’m sure you don’t mind, right?”

  Mallory’s eyes narrow for a brief second. Oh, I know she’s livid about this, but there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

  “Oh, no, of course not,” Mallory says sweetly. “Enjoy your day, Aubrey.”

  Ha, right.

  “Thank you, Mallory. Have a good evening,” I say politely.

  I quickly scoop up all the folders. I can’t wait to get out of here. I smile at Beckett as we step over to my cubicle.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, thrilled at the sight of him.

  “I have more surprises,” Beckett says, his brown eyes dancing at me.

  I drop the folders on the edge of my desk and begin gathering up my things.

  “You so didn’t let on to your game in that interview,” I declare as I slip into my coat.

  Beckett moves behind me and helps me get my coat on. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re full of surprises, more than taking a girl to a nice restaurant for a big date,” I say, turning around to face him. “And you’re an incredible romantic.”

  Beckett begins to blush. “Stop it,” he says.

  “No, it’s true,” I say. I pause for a moment and smile at Charlotte. “Have a great evening,” I say.

  She is staring at Beckett with saucer eyes. “Um, yeah, you too.”

  I can’t repress my smile. Beckett gets that response from girls all the time, and I understand it. He’s gorgeous, but more than that, he’s kind, loving, romantic, funny, intelligent—I can go on and on, but I adore the man for everything he is on the inside. The Beckett I know.

  The Beckett I love.

  “So I know we both need to go home and change for tonight,” Beckett says as we walk through the office. “But we have another stop to make before we head home.”

  He opens the door for me to exit the office, and I smile happily as I do.

  “Another stop? You’re full of surprises today.”

  Beckett grins as he punches the down button on the elevator panel. “We’re going to Target. I’m out of paper towels,” he deadpans.

  I laugh as we step inside the elevator. “I don’t buy that for one second, Captain Smart Ass.”

  “So you remembered the title, eh?”

  “Eh, I did,” I tease.

  “Stop it,” Beckett says, nudging me with his shoulder.

  When we reach the ground floor, Beckett reaches for my hand. I relish the feel of his warm, masculine skin wrapping around mine and shiver happily in response.

  “Let’s get a snack to go,” Beckett says, steering me toward Starbucks. “Coffee and pastries?”

  Mmmm. I love pastries and coffee almost as much as I love fries. I glance out the windows and see the snow is picking up again, making this treat sound very appealing to me.

  “Yes, that’s perfect,” I say.

  We step into Starbucks, and I remember our first time here. When I had the interview and he waited for me. It seems only right that we’re here together on our Valentine’s Day celebration date.

  Beckett places our order and I snuggle into him. He rubs his hand affectionately on my back, and I’m aware of some people staring at him, trying to determine if he is indeed Captain Riley. Yet I don’t care. I know this will always happen when we go out. But I know I’m the only woman he wants. I’m secure in that now.

  And that’s all that matters.

  The barista calls out my name—Beckett never gives his own name in public—and we retrieve our coffees. Then we step outside and Beckett walks me over to a yellow cab that is waiting for us.

  Beckett opens the door for me, and I slip inside. He climbs in next to me and reaches for my hand again.

  “Next stop,” Beckett says.

  “Yes, sir,” the driver says, glancing in the rear view mirror and smiling at us.

  “You already arranged the stop?” I ask, delighted.

  “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I announced it now,” Beckett says.

  “I can’t wait,” I say, tearing off a piece of my Danish and popping it into my mouth. “Mmm, this is so good. Perfect snack on a snowy day.”

  Beckett takes a sip of his coffee. “There’s nothing better than pastry and coffee in a cab, is there?”

  I furrow my brow. What does he mean by that?

  “Um, I guess,” I say, feeling like that was a hint.

  We travel north up Michigan Avenue, and I wonder where we are headed.

  The cab eventually stops at an intersection and I glance around.

  Then I see Tiffany & Co.

  Tiffany & Co.

  I glance down at my hands. I’m holding a coffee and a pastry and—

  “This is Breakfast at Tiffany’s!” I scream in delight.

  Beckett flashes me a huge smile. “It is. We’re re-enacting your favorite movie of all time.”

  I’m so full of love I think I’m going to burst. The opening scene of the movie has Audrey Hepburn stepping out of a yellow cab, eating a pastry and drinking coffee, and peering into the windows at Tiffany & Co.

  And Beckett has brought my favorite movie scene to life for me for our Valentine’s Day date.

  “Beckett,” I gasp, my eyes growing watery, “this is . . . this is . . . wonderful!”

  “Come on, let’s go look in the window,” Beckett says.

  We get out of the cab and head over to the Tiffany store. My eyes are filled with tears as I gaze up at Beckett. Beckett pulls me along and stops right in front of a display window fi
lled with glittering jewels.

  “Okay, this is your moment to be Audrey,” Beckett declares, giving me that crooked smile I love so much. “I know you don’t have the dress, but it’s snowing. I figured you could wear it to dinner tonight instead.”

  The dress. The light bulb goes off as I realize that’s why he asked if I owned a black cocktail dress. To mimic the one Audrey wore in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

  Okay, commence crying.

  “Beckett,” I say, tears slipping from my eyes, “this is magical.”

  “No, no, no crying,” Beckett says, gently brushing his fingertips over my face and sweeping the tears away. “I didn’t want to make you cry.”

  “These are happy tears,” I exclaim. “This is the best Valentine’s Day date ever. This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy, Aubrey,” Beckett says softly. “That’s all I wanted.”

  “I am,” I say, gazing up at his gorgeous face and watching the snow drift all around him. “This is perfect.”

  Beckett bends down and drops a coffee-flavored kiss on my lips, and I relish the moment. Of living out my movie scene with the man I love on this snowy day in Chicago.

  I love you, I think as he breaks the kiss. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone.

  “Come on, let’s take a selfie of your Audrey moment,” Beckett says, whipping out his cell.

  “What?” I ask, confused. “You hate posing for pictures.”

  “Not with you.”

  Joy sweeps over me. Beckett never would have done this before. He poses for fans, but he refuses to take pictures of himself.

  Yet now he wants to take one to remember the moment with me.

  “On three,” he says, holding out his camera and interrupting my thoughts. “One . . . two . . . three!”

  Beckett takes the pic and we’re both grinning happily for the camera.