Breaking Emily's Rules

by Heatherly Bell

  He couldn’t cart any of it along. Not suitable for someone who traveled light.

  “I don’t own him. He owns me.” Might as well state the facts as he knew them. “It’s my dad’s dog. My dad loved him. I still don’t know why.”

  “And you won’t get rid of him.”

  “No.” Though he thought of it often enough. But in the end, he figured both he and Winston had a lot in common except for the fur and the fleas. Winston even had big balls. As if to prove it, he rolled over on his back, spread-eagled, and showed them off for Emily.

  Dad should have neutered the big guy. “You want him? He comes with his own bowl.”

  “He’s welcome to visit me anytime. Pookie is used to hanging out with big dogs.” Emily turned in a semicircle, taking a good look at the room. “This house—it’s your father’s house, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. How’d you guess?”

  “Wild guess. It’s not you. It’s too homey and lived-in.”

  “Thanks,” he said, though he knew exactly what she meant. For the past few years he’d lived with what he could carry in a bag. Mementos, photos, furniture—they were all more anchors, making it hard to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice when new orders came through.

  “I mean, you’re neat and compartmentalized. I expected to see sharp corners and lots of steel to match your nerves.” She smiled and tossed her hair.

  Was that a mating call? If not, it should be. In some countries, he was sure that it was. He still wanted a handful of that hair in his hands. It needed to be moved to get to the neck he wanted to lick.

  “You want to see me lose it then dance with me again to Marvin Gaye. Right here. While we’re alone.” It was an invitation, or maybe a dare.

  Emily stayed rooted in her spot, making it easier when he closed the distance between them and pulled her against his chest. He told himself this was okay. He was only playing, only teasing. Testing boundaries. He was a guy, after all. Sue him.

  She didn’t speak when he moved the hair from her neck and kissed the tender spot under her ear, then licked it. In fact, she went so far as to moan, a little sound that coming out of her meant he must be doing something right. And she did her magic again, fingers threaded in his hair, pressing even closer. Yeah, this was so much better than talking. Talking was for chumps.

  Emily pulled away and he saw a look that meant only one thing to him. He was about to get lucky.

  “Look at the time. I’ve got to go,” Emily said. “You can take me home now.”

  She might as well have doused him with a pail of ice cold water. Had he misread her signals that badly? She tried to turn away from him, but he reached for her elbow and stopped her. An explanation would be nice. “Why?”

  “I’m so sorry—but I can’t do this right now.”

  Idiot. Thinking with the little head again. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He ran his fingers down her arm to assure her he wasn’t the Big Bad Wolf. When he reached her hand, he squeezed it.

  “That’s not the problem. What I want to do is the problem. I’m afraid I’m not the girl you think I am.” She shook her head. “Or the girl I thought I was. I mean, the girl I thought I could be.”

  If only he could speak her language. “Explain.”

  “I don’t know what this is, this thing between us.” Emily squeezed his hand back.

  “It’s called chemistry.”

  “This is too much for me. You’re too much for me. And besides that, this was supposed to be one date. One. I think we’re forgetting that.”

  “Right.” Which meant that again, he’d let her mess with his head. She was right. One date.

  She took another step back. “Because that’s what we agreed.”

  He didn’t speak for a moment, just let go of her hand. “We did agree on that.”

  “You’re my teacher.”

  “You’re my student.”

  “Exactly.” A hint of a smile curled her lips.

  “And then there’s the kissing. We should stop that.”

  Emily’s expression became serious, and she seemed to consider it. “Probably.”

  Oh, hell yeah, he was in so much trouble.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  STONE DIDN’T SEEM at all upset on the drive back to the ranch, choosing to joke with her about NFG and his other friends at the bar. Surprising, because she’d expected some sulking. Didn’t all men pitch a fit when they didn’t get sex? The first time she turned Greg down because she hadn’t known him the prerequisite six months, he’d sulked all evening, barely speaking to her. When she’d finally broken down just shy of six months, she should have been the one to sulk. She’d been with two men in her entire life, both in heavily committed relationships. Sex was just part of the deal when you loved someone, but most of the time she could take it or leave it.

  Stone walked her to the door of her loft, despite her protests.

  “I can’t let you in. It’s already dark outside.”

  He cocked his head again as if she’d spoken in another language. “I’ve got to go anyway. Early day tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I had a great time.”

  He didn’t say anything for a minute, just kind of studied her. “Good.”

  He walked back down the loft steps and got into his truck without even glancing back once. One date. They’d agreed. Another one would be nice but not part of the deal.

  The lights were on in the kitchen of the big house, which meant someone, probably Molly, might still be up and about. She was the last person Emily wanted to see, but she didn’t want to be alone right now, either.

  Inside her loft, Emily pulled out her cell phone and dialed Rachel’s number. She picked up after the second ring. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve done something really stupid.”

  “Oh, my gawd. Am I going to be on Dateline? You finally snapped, didn’t you? What did you do to Nika?”

  “No, stupid. I just got back from my date with Stone. The thing is, if I hadn’t gotten out of there when I did—I think I was about to jump his bones.” She was apparently just as much of a hussy as Molly. Emily was supposed to be the sensible one. Why keep hoping sex could be fun when it obviously wasn’t her cup of tea?

  “Wait. You were going to have sex with him when you haven’t even known him for six months? But Emily, that’s Rule Number One. Followed by, if I do recall, making sure to ask about his dental records.”

  “It says a lot about a person who takes care of their teeth.”

  “Yes, of course.” If Emily wasn’t mistaken, Rachel, who had long regarded Emily’s rules as over-the-top cautious, had just snickered into the phone. “So what happened?”

  “I had him take me home before I proved what a hussy I am.” And it hadn’t been easy, either. She’d forced herself to not look back so she couldn’t be tempted to change her mind. The things he’d done to her had set every nerve on fire.

  “If I’m not mistaken, that makes twice you’ve run out on his man.”

  Emily groaned. That would be three times. “It was one date. He and I agreed.”

  “You’re going to give the man a complex.” Rachel laughed, followed by a yawn. “Listen, I’ve got to get to sleep. But I suggest you get your little heinie back over there and tell him you had a fever and got temporarily delirious, or something.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m—I think I’m scared.” More like terrified. What kind of a wild woman was she? Answer: not even an average wild woman. At best, she was subpar.

  “You know what, honey? I don’t wonder that you’re scared. I think this might be the first time in your life that you’ve had this kind of chemistry with a man. Isn’t it?”

  Certainly not with Greg.
He’d had a paint-by-numbers routine, and she’d slid right into it. Never even questioned whether it was good enough or not. A good girl didn’t need anything exciting, anyway. “You’re right.”

  “Naturally. Now good night.” Rachel hung up.

  It was true. She’d never had a man make her pulse race, cause her to shiver at his touch and turn her on like he’d just pressed a button. But why choose the one man who had an expiration date on his time here?

  Because I don’t think I deserve to be happy?

  Emily walked over to the main house and up the porch steps. If Grammy were the one still up, a hug and some hot chocolate would help. Everything seemed so out of control lately. She’d been grasping at straws ever since she’d come home. She wasn’t supposed to be living at home at twenty-eight. She should be happily married to someone and starting a family. Instead she was taking flying lessons and tempted to jump into bed with a man she hardly knew. A man who scared her because he was so good at making her feel out of control.

  She opened the front door and followed the sound of Grammy’s voice to the kitchen.

  “I want the plaque to have my favorite Bible verse on it, John 3:16. If there’s room, it should say below my name, ‘She loved her family.’ Yes, and my birthday is April 16, 1936. Date of death? Of course I don’t have that yet. Yes, it’s for me. Weren’t you listening? What do you mean call back when I’m dead? Let me talk to your supervisor, young man! Hello? Hello? Why, he hung up on me. Well, of all the nerve.”

  Why hadn’t Emily noticed it before? There could be no other explanation for Grammy’s sudden fascination with making her own funeral arrangements. Grammy was dying.

  It would be just like her to not want to worry anyone with the little matter of her fatal illness. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, just some young man who doesn’t understand preparation, either.” Grammy sat at the kitchen table, the phone nearby, a rolled up parchment to her right. Probably the family tree.

  Emily reached down and encircled Grammy’s shoulders, enveloping her in a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did tell you. You saw the cremation vase. It’s definitely going in the dining room. I don’t care what your father says. Goodness, Emily, why are you crying?”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.” Emily couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Grammy had always been there, and the world wouldn’t spin the same without her.

  Grammy stood and pulled Emily into her arms. “Sit down, honey. You look like you need some hot chocolate. I’m not going anywhere for a while. I’m the healthiest eighty-year-old Dr. Lewis has ever seen.”

  “Then I don’t understand.” Emily wiped her tears with a napkin and took a breath on a sob. “You’re suddenly obsessed with your death. I mean, you’ve never talked about this before. Why now?”

  Grammy took the milk from the refrigerator and poured it into a pan, then lit the gas stove. “It’s all the genealogy research. Made me start thinking about all these relatives, and the lives they led. You’re not the only one that wants to leave this place better than they found it. It’s important that you all remember me, and that I tried.”

  “I could never forget you.” Emily hiccupped through her tears.

  “Maybe, but I might never get to know your children. Not that I want you to rush out and get married. You take your time and do it right.” She reached over and rubbed Emily’s back.

  “I thought I’d be married by now, maybe with a baby on the way.”

  “Things work out in their own time and not before,” Grammy said as she stirred the milk.

  “But at this rate, I might not have my first baby before I’m thirty.” That used to be her marker, but she might have to move it back now.

  Rachel was one person who didn’t think a person’s life could be planned out like a schedule of events in a day timer, and maybe she was right. The most important thing was to get it right, and if nothing else, the fiasco with Greg had taught Emily that.

  “It’s not a race.”

  “I know. What I need to do is take my mind off it. That’s what I’m trying to do.” So far it wasn’t working too well.

  Emily got up to mix the cocoa and sugar because that part had always been her job. She had the precise measurements memorized by now, given the ritual of homemade hot chocolate was nearly as old as she was. She’d sat at this very table on many a night when missing Mama had driven her out of a sound sleep. Grammy always thought chocolate made everything better, and she was right most of the time.

  Emily topped their mugs of hot chocolate with a dollop of whipped cream. It was confession time. “I haven’t quit my flying lessons. I just thought you should know.”

  Grammy didn’t look surprised and nodded. The woman knew everything, it would seem. “Ah, chocolate. It makes everything go down a little bit smoother.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I was afraid Dad would find out.”

  Grammy scowled and waved her hand dismissively. “Your father is an idiot. The way he treats Molly like a small child makes me want to hurl.”

  Hurl?

  “And he’s never supported all your efforts the way he should have. I’m sure it’s because he worries so. After he lost Jessie, he didn’t want to let you girls out of his sight for a time. Even I worry about you flying, so it’s not illogical for him to be concerned. But I do wish he would support you more. Give better attention to all you’re trying to accomplish. It’s something, Emily.”

  “I don’t need his attention. I just need him to stay out of my way.”

  “You’re serious about this, aren’t you? Is it the flying you want to do, or do you just want to upset your father? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “I want to do this.” Why was it so hard to believe that she wanted to do this for herself? She’d always done what was expected of her, and that hadn’t gotten her anywhere.

  Not with her father, and not with Greg.

  “I have some news, Emily. And you shouldn’t let it upset you.” Grammy took a big gulp of her hot chocolate. “Hmm, that’s good.”

  “I shouldn’t let it upset me?” Did anything good begin with that kind of an introduction?

  “Mistakes are made, even by experts.”

  Dear God. “But you said you aren’t dying.”

  “Oh, not that expert. I completely trust Dr. Lewis.” She smoothed the tablecloth.

  “Then which expert?”

  Grammy made a face. “Julia.”

  “Your friend Julia?” The Pink Ladies’ resident genealogy expert, Daughter of the American Revolution Julia. “What happened?”

  “Think about how common a last name Parker is.”

  “Yeah?”

  “And then you add in Emily.” Grammy shot Emily a significant look. Significant because her eyes were bulging a little bit. “I’m not surprised it happened.”

  “I don’t know what you’re saying. Why don’t you just spit it out?”

  She held up a hand. “So, you’re not actually related to the Emily Parker who was a licensed pilot. Julia called today to tell me.”

  “What? But—”

  “Poor Julia is mortified, but it was a simple mistake. A common last name, no? And when you think of it, this is a good thing. Don’t be too upset with Julia. She would have come over to tell you herself, but I thought the news would be best coming from me.”

  Emily didn’t speak for several minutes. Surprising how she’d let this belief color her vision for the past few weeks. Like the real estate. The writing. The country music. Another leaf tossed around by the wind and this particular leaf had flown out the window. She was chasing her tail most of the time.

  “Oh. A little disappointing but not the end of the world, I guess.” Now she’d still have to find out about her real
namesake, that ever-elusive woman. Unless it didn’t matter.

  Grammy patted her hand. “It doesn’t mean you can’t still get your pilot’s license. Be the first Emily Parker in our family to do it.”

  Later that night in her loft, Emily couldn’t sleep. She drew the covers up then shoved them back down. Finally tossed them off her bed and let them fall in a heap. Tonight her past and future had shifted. Been rewritten. It didn’t matter and yet it did. She’d allowed a piece of paper, a page in history, to influence her future. But it hadn’t been her past.

  Could it still be her future?

  Her mind kept coming back to Stone. She hadn’t meant to lead him on, but when his kisses had made her spine tingle in little pulses and shocks of desire, she had realized that she wasn’t a wild woman after all. Not yet, anyway. And there were still rules. She’d put them in place for good reason.

  Stone was leaving as soon as he could. He’d made that clear. And Emily had never in her life had sex without a commitment. Commitment was the only reason she ever had sex. It was the duty of a steady girlfriend. The whole thing was unthinkable. And yet...

  She wanted to stop being so afraid. To live out her life full tilt. Becoming a pilot had been part of that plan. Check. But there was still something missing. If she had to put her finger on the pulse of what was missing, she might have to call it joy.

  Rules. Hmm. Emily sat up in bed, an idea forming. She went to her desk and fished for a pen and paper, which she brought back to bed with her. What this Emily Parker needed were some new ground rules.

  Emily’s New Rules for Being a Wild Woman (and not losing my heart in the process)

  Wear protection.

  No spending the night together.

  No asking for a second time.

  No kissing.

  She’d have to think about the “no kissing” rule. Sure, it might sound crazy, and she’d already kissed Stone. But that was part of the problem. The man kissed liked nobody’s business, and kissing was such a tender gesture, especially when accompanied with making love.