Rule #1 Don't Fall for Mr. Wrong: Sweet Romantic Comedy (Rules of Dating: Christian RomComs)

by Taylor Hart

  Beau crossed his arms. A serious expression pulled down the sides of his lips.

  "What?" Again, she felt nervous.

  “So, how did it go with Jonathon?"

  She didn't want to answer. She gestured to her bag. “What do you think of the article?”

  His eyes were intense for a few seconds then he turned away from her, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t agree with your advice.”

  "Why?"

  "First, how did it go with Jonathon? Are you getting married?”

  "Why would you ask that?"

  Beau shrugged. "I hear things at the Varsity, people tell me stuff."

  Her heart raced, she really didn't want to discuss this topic. The truth was, she wasn't sure what she wanted and it didn't feel like she should be discussing it with Beau. She sat and then leaned back into the couch and folded her arms. “Why don’t you agree with Beatrice?”

  He turned toward her and reached for her hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  He took her left hand and held it up for a second. Then he dropped it back. “How long before you have a ring?"

  She almost felt a little sick because her feelings seemed all jumbled up inside. “Why don't you agree with my response to Lonely Heart?”

  Beau grimaced. “Fine. I don’t think love is easy. At least, not like the fairytale kind of love they sell to young girls.” He studied her face.

  More tension ratched up between them. “What is it then?”

  “I think it’s passionate and wonderful. Even with the right person it's hard, but it's crazy worth it.” His eyes misted.

  His passion made her feel vulnerable. She thought of how this man had lost his wife and how she had felt his sorrow when he'd told her.

  But … she stood and turned to face the window. “Why do you care what Beatrice says, Beau?”

  Beau moved next to her.

  There was a light snow falling. The street lights were bright. The whole scene looked soft. Suddenly, she felt his hand touch hers. “Can I take you somewhere right now?” he whispered.

  She jolted and turned to face him. “What? Where?"

  Again, Beau gave her a sweeping gaze. "C'mon, let's go have some fun. I have my motorcycle out there, let's go for a ride."

  The thought of riding with this man on a motorcycle made her pulse race. Her eyes found the red motorcycle parked down the street.

  "C'mon, go change." He said, lightly tugging on a piece of her hair. "I won't disappoint you, I promise you that."

  She met his gaze and dang it, if she didn't want to kiss him. The energy between them was combustible.

  "Go change," he whispered.

  She hedged. How would she explain this to Jonathon? But, she pushed that thought away and tried to focus on a reason she couldn't go. "I have dance lessons with Martha and Larry tomorrow, so I probably shouldn't."

  He frowned, then sputtered out a laugh. "Are you serious?"

  "It's at nine."

  He laughed, again. "Go change, woman! I'll have you back before nine in the morning." His lip turned up.

  She shook her head, feeling ridiculous. "Beau, I shouldn't."

  The truth.

  He closed the gap between them and gently pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Actually, Sara, I think you should because we never have guarantees in life."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means you should come have fun with me before you're an old maid and all your fun time is over."

  The thought of Jonathon's mother and living next door to her, made her believe that Beau was right. But she still hedged. "If I come with you, will you help me teach dance lessons tomorrow."

  Beau's smile widened. "I thought you'd never ask."

  Chapter 22

  The red street bike glistened under the street lamp.

  Sara reflected that it seemed extremely quiet out tonight. The road was wet from a light snow earlier in the day.

  Beau took one of the helmets and held it out for her. “Have you ever ridden?”

  Sara smiled arrogantly. “You’re talking to a cowgirl, of course I’ve ridden.”

  “Right.” He put his helmet on, clicking the front plastic into place. He slipped onto the bike. "Hop on."

  She got on behind him and found that putting her arms around his waist was nerve-racking. Closing her eyes she tried not to think about the smell of leather and how she could feel his whole body moving as he balanced the bike and pushed the kickstand up. Deciding she shouldn’t be so close to him, she tried to get a grip on the leather of his jacket in her hands.

  Beau laughed. “You’re gonna have to hold on tighter than that.” He took off down the street fast.

  Sara laughed, snuggling into his back and tightening her grip around his middle.

  Beau rode through Main Street and then headed out of town on the freeway, toward Cheyenne. When she saw the sign, she realized she probably should have asked where, exactly, they were going, but felt like for the first time since the funeral she was able to relax a little bit. Holding onto this man made her feel excited and free, yet secure; all at the same time.

  As they kept going, she thought about meeting him for the first time in Denver. She reflected on how different his life had been from hers. How, she didn't know a lot about him, but what she did know, told her that he was a caring, kind, ambitious person who'd felt a lot of loss in his life. Randomly, the thought of the guy at the coffee shop mentioning his mother hit her. She would ask him if his mother was okay.

  Beau took another road that she had never been on before. The road wound into the mountains. The trees started to thicken, and the air felt cooler. Her legs began to smart against the cold, but it all seemed so beautiful in the moonlight. They rode another ten minutes and Beau pulled off onto a dirt road, passing a mailbox. The road curved higher until the trees seemed to clear, and Sara could make out, what appeared to be, a newer cabin. The lights were on.

  He stopped the bike and took his helmet off. “Welcome to my home.”

  Sara felt weird. He seemed so much older than her at this moment. She took off the helmet and heard the sound of classical music coming from the home. “Is this where you kill me and bury my bones on your mountain. I assume it’s yours too.” She got off the bike gingerly, handing him the helmet.

  He pushed a button in his pocket and the garage opened. He smiled wickedly and rolled the bike into the garage. “Maybe, are you afraid?"

  She wanted to be afraid. She wanted to demand he take her back to the apartment. She wanted … not to feel all the kinds of things she had begun to feel when she was around him. "I'm terrified." It wasn't a lie.

  Beau hesitated after he parked the motorcycle in a spot at the back of the garage. “I am, too."

  Their eyes held and Sara wondered what he meant.

  He moved toward her, reaching out a hand. "Can I introduce you to someone.”

  Sara hadn’t been expecting this. “Okay.” She followed him up the steps and into the house. The warmth of the house assaulted her, making her nose run a little from the contrast of the cold.

  An older lady sat in a chair by a fire reading.

  The woman looked up and smiled, pulling her glasses off of her face. “My goodness, Beau, I do think she’s as pretty as you’ve said.”

  Beau cleared his throat and blushed. “Mom, this is Sara. Sara, this is my mom, Ellen.”

  Sara would have teased Beau about blushing if this hadn't been a situation where it wasn't appropriate. "Hi."

  His mother put out her hand. "Let me see you."

  Sara moved to her and shook her hand. She noted how fragile it felt in her hand. “Nice to meet you.” She didn’t know what to say. She was nervous. She tried to look at the book. “What are you reading?”

  “Oh,” Ellen said, putting her hand gently on top of a well-worn book. “Just one of the classics—Pride and Prejudice.”

  Sara smiled. “I love that one, but I just have the hardest time with Elizabeth.
”

  His mother smiled. “Really, why?”

  Sara sat down on the chair beside her, wanting to be polite and kind. “It just seems like she takes so long to really be able to see Darcy for who he is. I mean, I get that they have some misunderstandings—but why don’t they just talk? It takes forever for them to get together. Then he has to write her that whole letter explaining it all. Come on—just talk.”

  His mother fluffed her short hair and pulled her glasses off. “I like the fact it takes a while to unravel. I like the mystery and journey of it all. It’s a lot like a new relationship—don’t you think?” His mother glanced from Beau to her.

  Embarrassment filled her. His mother was clearly talking about them. “I guess.”

  His mother laughed, her eyes shining and stood. She reached out for Beau. “Well, I better head home, Beau. Sara, really it was so nice to finally meet you. You should join us for Thanksgiving if you don’t have plans. I’m a great cook.”

  Sara smiled, seeing where Beau got his personality from. “Thank you for the offer. It was nice meeting you too.”

  Beau helped her mother get her coat on. Then kissed her cheek. “Love you, Mom. See ya tomorrow.” He walked to the porch and watched her get into her white car and back out.

  Sara marveled at the fact she was here. In Beau's home. She looked around, noting the expansive effect the floor to ceiling windows had on this room.

  Beau walked back inside and shut the door, smiling at her. "Mom liked you."

  Nervous angst wove into her. She didn't want to talk about that. She kept her gaze on the view. “You’ve got quite the place here.” The moon was bright and she saw trees and the reflection of lake water. “I didn’t know there was a lake up here.”

  Beau stepped to her side and tentatively ran his fingers over her hand.

  Sara closed her eyes, hating the way she loved the feel of his hand. “Beau—.”

  “Just don’t say anything, Sara.” He fully took her hand.

  So many feelings sparked inside of her. "I shouldn't be here," she said, staring at Beau's lips. "I shouldn't be going on motorcycle rides with you or meeting your mom."

  His other hand gently touched her hair. He seemed to study it. "I like how your hair is blonde in some light but it has some red in other light and some brown."

  This man, her heart raced. It was clear he'd done some thinking about this topic.

  Their eyes met and held. It felt like they were the only two people in the whole world.

  "Can I kiss you?" he asked.

  Guilt filled her and she released his hand and stepped back. "What?" It was like she'd been woken up. "No."

  He reached for her hand, again. "Why?"

  So many emotions washed through her. “Because I'm probably marrying Jonathon.” It felt like those words were the only defense against this man.

  Beau hesitated, then leaned in and softly brushed her lips with his.

  Fire burned where he kissed her and she wanted to pull away, but she didn't.

  He pulled back but kept his face close. “I don’t suppose you would want to just be kissing friends, then?”

  Sara touched her mouth, she couldn't believe he'd kissed her. "I told you not to kiss me."

  His face sobered. "I'm sorry."

  Both of them stood there for a long time.

  "If I ask to kiss you, again, will you say yes?"

  "No."

  This man was intoxicating to her. She told herself that, technically, she wasn't engaged. Sara tried to pretend that none of this meant anything. Technically, Jonathon had wanted her to date lots of guys . . . even though—technically—he was back now. Did that still count?

  "I mean," Beau whispered, running a hand down her hair.

  Goosebumps rushed over her.

  "You should kiss me again, just to make sure you don't want me to kiss you. I mean, it seems like a sound business practice."

  Unable to stop herself, she laughed. "A good business He leaned in, but he didn't kiss her. "You just have to make sure you don't want to kiss me."

  She knew that she was playing with fire. She also knew, that she wanted to kiss him, again. "Fine."

  Then his lips were on her, again.

  Unlike before, she let herself give in to the kiss, putting her hands around his neck.

  His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.

  Their lips moved together in a way that released some of the pressure that had been building between them.

  Yes. She deepened the kiss.

  He responded in kind, his hands tugging her hair.

  This experience was like fire and sunshine and made her want more. “Beau!” She forced herself away from him, sucking in a breath.

  He pointed at her. "I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair and looked surprised. "I … I didn't know it would be like that."

  Every part of her was buzzing and she didn't know how to process all of this. "You shouldn't have done that."

  A chuckle filled the air. “You kissed me back.”

  She met his gaze, knowing he was telling the truth.

  He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of her hand. "And I think you liked it."

  This man was truly annoying and impossible, but she couldn't stop from asking the question, “I thought you said you couldn’t marry me, anyway?”

  Chapter 23

  He sighed and let go of her. “You’re right. I should just take you home. But I can’t.” He went to the stair rail and banged his hand against it sharply. “I shouldn’t be thinking about you day and night and wondering if you’re going to show up in class with a piece of glass on your finger.” He put his hand in his hair and ruffled it up in frustration. “But I do.” He searched her face.

  Sara didn’t move.

  Beau looked her up and down. “It is easy between us . . . and you feel it.” It was more of an accusation than a statement. He was referring to her Beatrice article.

  She closed her eyes and sighed.

  “Here, come outside, this is what I wanted to show you.” Abruptly, he pulled her with him.

  Sara followed him in confusion. “So we’re clear.”

  Beau sat on a bench and patted the space next to him, and his eyes looked warm, reflecting the fire on the porch. “Oh yeah. We’re clear.” He smiled. “What were we talking about?”

  Sara inhaled deeply. The mountain air was tinged with the smell of campfire. It reminded her of roasting smores. “I haven’t officially told him yet, but I am marrying Jonathon.” She tried to sound convincing and collapsed into the chair. “Gosh, I feel like I have a double personality when I’m with you or something.”

  Pulling her closer against his side, he ran his hand down her ponytail, studying her hair for a few seconds in thought. “You’re not schizophrenic, you just have feelings for me . . . and Jonathon.” He said the last word with distaste.

  “Beau,” she said it like a mother says their son’s name when they want to make sure that the naughty behavior would not be continued. “I can only be friends with you.”

  Beau nodded and looked serious. “Okay. I can be a friend to you.” He turned to the outdoor stove and put his hands up to absorb the heat.

  Sara mimicked him, putting her hands up to the warmth too. “It is cozy, isn’t it?” Sara reflected that no one in Wyoming was sitting on a deck this time of year.

  She pointed her finger at him in emphasis. “And you won’t constantly fight with me or try to kiss me again?”

  “I can be your friend.” His eyes were serious. “If that’s what you really want, I can be that.” He quickly kissed her again.

  She started to pull away and his arm tightened against her. He laughed under his breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “Beau—” She shook her head. “On second thought, I don’t think we can be friends.”

  His eyes danced in the moonlight. “Sara, don’t you realize that we could be good together?” He turned so he was face-to-face with her. He had the look of a
tortured man. “I know you don’t realize it yet, how could you?” He pulled his arms from around her and stood up. “All you see is your perception of him."

  She stood too. “And don’t do that. It’s like you’re putting doubts in my head. It’s real between Jonathon and me. I know it.”

  “Okay.” He put his arms up in surrender. “I will be a perfect gentleman. And I will be your friend. I can’t guarantee that I won’t argue with you.” He pointed his finger at her. “That just seems to be how we get along.”

  Sara glared at him. Beau seemed different to her since the night of her dad’s funeral, softer.

  “But I do have to tell you that you will realize you’re not ready to marry him.”

  Sara felt sad. “Beau, don’t be my friend if you’re hoping I’ll change my mind.”

  Beau settled back in the seat and sighed. “I’m not hoping. I told you, I can’t marry you anyway.” His eyes seemed to pierce into her heart.

  Sara ignored his last comment. “How do you know he doesn’t make me happy?”

  Beau held her gaze for a moment. “Okay, does he?”

  Sara glared at him. “Yes.” She knew that wasn’t the complete truth, at least not yet. But she knew she couldn't tell him the truth.

  “Hmm."

  Sara looked down at her hands.

  “He probably wants to move back home when he’s done with school and live next to his parents.”

  She didn't want to, but she laughed. “This coming from a man who lives next door to his mother.”

  Beau frowned. “It’s different.”

  Sara giggled. “It’s exactly the same.”

  Biting into his lip he stood up. “I don’t know much about him, but he probably doesn’t realize that you want to do so many things with your life. Does he know that you are smart and beautiful and want to save the world? Does he know that?”

  Turning back to her, the moonlight hit his features and made his whole face look more chiseled and hard. “Sara, do you have a five-year plan—together? Or are you fitting into his five-year plan?”

  Sara tried not to look miserable. “Every marriage requires sacrifice.”

  “Sara,” he looked in her eyes. “Does he realize you don’t just want to live in someone’s shadow?”