Three-Year Rule
Rule Series: Book 1
Alaina Stanford
Three-Year Rule
By Alaina Stanford
Published by Alaina Stanford
Copyright 2013 Alaina Stanford
Contents
Acknowledgements
Dedicated to my loving husband, whose support means more to me than life itself.
Thanks to Jack Martin of Gossamer Publishing for the great cover!
Special thanks to Hypnotic Proofreading.
Chapter One
“If love were a garden, dating would be the weed killer. Unfortunately, many times the worst weeds survive the initial application, often requiring additional energy not only to identify the unwelcome plants, but to remove them.” Elizabeth glanced around the room packed full of women. She drew in a quick breath as a multitude of blank expressions stared back at her. Did she sound like a man hater or a potential serial killer?
Making a mental note to check the local news for any poisonings committed by jilted girlfriends before using this speech again, she continued. “Take my life for instance.” Her hand slid into the front pocket her pale green suit jacket. “From the time I was a little girl I imagined my first love would be like a fairytale romance. I expected the prince of my dreams to show up one day and whisk me away to an elaborate wedding in a pearl-encrusted gown followed quickly by a Brady Bunch home, and a happily ever after marriage. Instead, I was so shy I barely dated in high school. In fact, my first love was a tattooed ex-marine Harley rider who smoked pot. This was extraordinary, considering I was a straight naive kid who hadn't even tasted alcohol yet. My college years led to more bad choices in boyfriends than I care to admit.”
“Finally, after college, I decided to ‘wise up’ and marry an older man who happened to be a preacher. How could I be any safer? Admittedly, he was boring and straight-laced. He was what I considered moderately attractive, no bulging muscles or chiseled features. He was an average looking man, which I considered optimal since all of the strikingly handsome men of my past managed to cheat on me. So, I gave up on the dream of a man that could make my heart race when our eyes met. I gave up on finding someone my body would ache to touch. I married Mr. Safe. Mr. Safe was supposed to be a perfect husband, a great father, and a good provider. Three years later, I realized he was a well-hidden obsessive-compulsive, narcissistic womanizer.”
Elizabeth paused for emphasis and noticed a handsome man with an amused smirk on his chiseled face standing at the back of the room. He was tall, with golden hair and broad shoulders. His blue flannel shirt clung to his muscular biceps. A pair of faded jeans perfected his persona. What was he doing at a women’s conference? Elizabeth hesitated with her speech, almost forgetting the words.
It’s probably the self-defense instructor, she thought. Yet something about this man’s amused expression irritated Elizabeth. Her eyes met his for one electric moment. She felt the color rise in her cheeks and fought for control of her senses. Forcing her eyes to move further around the conference room, she took a deep cleansing breath. Concentrating on the pale gold and bronze colors of the room, she continued.
“Now this is where I’m supposed to tell you what I learned from that experience.” She glanced back toward the lumberjack to find him gone. She sighed with surprising relief and kept going, “So here it is: you can’t possibly determine if someone is the best man for you from the first date, fourth date, magazine survey, website questionnaire or even a year of marriage. The truth is when you first meet someone they aren’t showing you their true self. They are showing you either the person they want you to think they are, or the person they think you want them to be. I call this behavior a pseudo-personality. This pseudo personality can be very deceptive not only to you, but to your suitor as well. In fact, it is entirely possible for someone to maintain a pseudo personality for several years. More importantly, you could be the pseudo-personality in your relationship. You could be fooling yourself, trying to become the person you think your significant other wants you to be. I caution you not to attempt this, do not echo this behavior, it's very caustic. I believe every single person in this room has used a pseudo personality at some point in their lives. Many of you are using one at this very moment. It’s not exclusive to dating; it’s simply more devastating when used in a relationship.”
With this statement, Elizabeth casually flipped her long dark hair over one shoulder, straightened her stance, squared her shoulders, and smiled softly at her now captivated audience. “Think about it. When you’re on a first date, you’re at your best. You get dressed up, do your hair, get your nails done, and check your posture in the mirror to make sure the outfit does you justice. Then you put on those killer high heels and make sure your hips sway just the right amount when you walk in front of him. You use your best manners at dinner. You eat a salad or light entrée even though you are starving. Unless, of course, you grabbed a snack before he picked you up so you could eat a light meal without starving. You judge his sense of humor and respond accordingly. You respond to his manners appropriately. If he’s a total gentleman or a klutz, you adapt your thought processes for a successful night. If the night is going well, you use your best comebacks and give him that special come-hither look you’ve perfected for just the right moment. You have put on your pseudo persona for the night. First dates are notorious for it. Let me assure you, he has a persona as well. If he’s smart, he’ll open the door for you. He won’t eat with his fingers. He won’t burp or pass gas. He won’t use foul language or tell you a dirty joke, and he’ll try his best not to look at other women or your chest when you’re talking to him.”
The room was silent. All eyes and ears were on Elizabeth. She had them. They were all hers. She could scoop them up and put them in her pocket. She locked eyes with a few of the prominent women in the audience before she continued. “How can you tell if your partner is faking it? How can you know if you are faking it? You can’t. The only cure for this is time: plain, simple time. It can take between two to three years before most people will drop their guard and start allowing their real character to show through to their lover. A regular person can maintain a pseudo personality for up to three years. Where would you like to be when your relationship reaches the point where the pseudo-personality fades away? How committed do you want your relationship to be when your partner reveals who they really are? Wouldn’t you rather be dating them at that moment, instead of married to them? I’m not saying a sociopath will suddenly appear next to you in bed one morning three years after your first date. What I am saying is a few minor character changes are all it takes to ruin a relationship. Those personality changes can be as minor as toilet habits or food preferences, or as significant as views on child rearing, womanizing or physical abuse. Protect yourselves ladies, move slowly and get to know your partner before you commit to sharing a lifetime with them. A slow few years at the beginning of a relationship can save you a lifetime of sorrow.”
Elizabeth signed autographs and answered questions for the next few hours. Afterward, she went to the hotel’s dining room to meet Franklin, her publicist. He was waiting at a table near the back of the conference center’s dining room. The floor to ceiling windows that lined the dining room held a breathtaking view of jagged green mountains. The white linen clad tables held pink and yellow flowers draped with strings of pearls in honor of the women's conference.
Franklin wore a gray silk suit. He was tapping away at his iPad as she approached. His neat short black hair was as perfect as his manicured fingernails. Elizabeth pictured his alligator shoes under the table with a high shine.
What Elizabeth didn’t picture was the lumberjack in the flannel shirt sitting across the table from Franklin. Both men rose as she ar
rived. Elizabeth concentrated on Franklin as he gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Franklin turned to the lumberjack across from him and said, “Elizabeth, darling, I’d like to present Joshua Miller. He’s the residential building contractor I told you about.”
Elizabeth turned to face Joshua. Her stomach jumped as their eyes met. Somehow, she knew he’d have blue eyes. The deepest blue eyes she had ever seen gazed keenly back at her. She offered him her hand and said, “Thank you so much for meeting me tonight, Mr. Miller. I assume Franklin’s told you of my plan to build a home on the property my Uncle left me just outside of Bailey.”
Joshua’s face reached perfection when he smiled. The moment he touched her hand, Elizabeth’s heart raced. His touch was electric, sending waves of heat through her body.
He said, “Ms. Stewart, call me Joshua. I’m happy to make time for you. I drove by the property today. You’re going to need a small bridge over the creek to access the building site.” Josh couldn’t pull his eyes away from the luscious vision before him. He expected a female author who was short and mousy with little character. This woman was slender, with curves in all the right places. Her skin was perfect, her lips full and pouty.
Joshua’s voice rang deep and sensual in Elizabeth's ears. He released Elizabeth’s hand and moved to pull out the seat next to him, pushing it in behind her as she sat down. Franklin sat back down, reached out for Elizabeth’s hand, and squeezed it as he waved for the waiter.
Franklin explained, “Elizabeth is determined to make this her permanent residence, so you’ll have to have an open mind. I’m sure she has lots of ideas for the house and property.”
Joshua sat down and concentrated on Elizabeth, ignoring Franklin. He said, “You should be aware of the building restrictions in this area. We’ll need an environmental study to ensure the building on your location won’t have an adverse impact on the surrounding flora and fauna. I have every reason to expect positive results, but we can’t remove the ground until that’s finished. Franklin said you were ecologically conscious, which fits in well with this area. We have quite a few material restrictions. We try to take advantage of renewable resources such as passive solar, active solar, and photovoltaic equipment. I brought some examples of green roofs and rain gardens you should find helpful to reduce rainwater run-off. I recommend packed gravel or permeable concrete instead of asphalt for the driveway. It's easier on the ground water.” Joshua stopped himself; he was babbling. Her intense gaze was driving him crazy. Her long, dark brown hair and deep green eyes caused him to swell in an awkward spot. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had to get himself under control, or he’d lose the sale and any chance of getting this doll into bed.
Elizabeth found this ruffian enchanting. She noted his eyes dilating slightly and the hint of a crimson flush was working its way up his throat. Her presence was affecting him. So, the lumberjack had a soft side after all, and he was smarter than she expected. She leaned forward and said, “That all sounds perfect, but why don’t we order some dinner and relax for a bit before we dive into the business. I’ve been running full tilt all day, and frankly, I could use some small talk and a stiff drink.”
Franklin waved frantically at the nearest waitress, who came over immediately. He said, “Ms. Stewart will have a glass of Moscato and another round for Mr. Miller and me, please.”
Joshua stared at Franklin; the guy was a tall pile of New York City stress bent on controlling Elizabeth's every move. She didn’t seem to mind, so Joshua dismissed it. It was none of his business, but it irritated him nonetheless.
Franklin turned to Joshua and said, “It sounds like some deep consideration needs to take place before making any decisions. Perhaps tonight is not the right time to go over all this. Why don’t you leave the information with me? I’ll review it with Elizabeth. We will give you a call in a few days with a list of questions.”
Joshua smiled at Franklin; this guy was just too intense. He needed to get laid. Joshua turned to Elizabeth, “If you are looking for some relaxation, why don’t you try the local cuisine? I know a rustic little bar and grill just up the road. It has the best steak and ribs in the country.”
Elizabeth stared at him in fascination. He was hitting on her. This had to be a record. The man went from business to solicitation in thirty seconds. She couldn’t pass this up. She glanced at Franklin, then turned back to Joshua and said, “Let’s do it.”
Joshua rose, “That’s great, I’ll get my truck. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable?” He picked up the binder and handed it to her. “We can go over the floor plans and options later.”
Franklin rose and stammered, “Elizabeth, I thought we were running over the outline for your next book tonight.”
Elizabeth accepted the binder and rose to follow Joshua out of the dining room, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll catch up with you later. This won’t take long.”
Joshua disappeared through the entrance as Elizabeth rushed up the double flight of stairs to her room. She quickly changed into her best pair of skinny jeans and intentionally chose a tight fitting low cut white blouse over a black lace bra. This was going to be a hoot. She couldn’t wait to see what pseudo persona Mr. Eco Construction pulled out of his hat. She threw on a pair of sexy black pumps and headed downstairs.
Franklin met her at the bottom of the stairs. His face was beet red. His voice rose to a high pitch. “This is a bad idea. You don’t know his guy from Adam, and you don't know where he’s taking you.”
Elizabeth touched Franklin’s cheek and said, “I’ll be okay. It’s just dinner. I’ll be back in an hour or two. Relax.”
When she walked out into the cool night air, Joshua was there leaning casually against a large dark blue pickup truck. Elizabeth smiled in appreciation of his tall stature and rugged good looks. He smiled back and opened the door for her, offering his hand. They drove down the winding mountain road with the windows down, letting the first hint of night air fill the cab.
Normally, the mess the rushing wind was making of her hair would have annoyed Elizabeth. Instead, Elizabeth found it invigorating. She glanced up at the darkening sky. Stars faded into view. Elizabeth thought of her Uncle Wendell. She pictured him in her mind. He was in jeans and a T-shirt, walking his horse out of the small stables on his property. She pushed the thought from her mind as they pulled up next to a handful of vehicles in a large gravel parking lot. To say the bar was rustic was an understatement. It was a small square building with peeling paint and windows so dirty you couldn’t see inside.
Joshua glanced over at Elizabeth’s and said, “Don’t worry.” He flashed a brilliant smile. “They really do have great steak, and it’s one hundred percent pure beef, not Opossum, I swear.”
Elizabeth cringed when they walked in the door. Heavy, darkly stained wooden tables and chairs were scattered around the dimly lit, musty room. They helped themselves to one of the tall wooden booths along one side of the room. A long mahogany bar lined the other. As they sat down, Elizabeth glanced immediately under the bench, almost afraid of what she might see.
She looked up at Joshua and said, “Speaking of Opossum ....”
Joshua laughed. “I swear if you walked into this kitchen you’d find it sparkling clean. I bet it’s a lot cleaner than any of those fancy five-star restaurants in New York.”
Elizabeth said, “I’m not actually from New York.”
“New Jersey?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
“St Louis.” Elizabeth tried not to smile but failed. He was just too darn adorable.
He nodded his approval and added, “Midwestern girl; St Louis City or County?”
Elizabeth answered, “Jefferson County actually. You’ve been to St Louis?”
Josh said, “My grandparents on my mom's side were from Southern Missouri. I spent several summers on road trips to St Louis. My cousin and I would tramp through the woods looking for a mysterious black panther. I’ve certainly had my share of drunken float tri
ps and jaunts up to the top of the Arch. I love Missouri.”
A tall blonde-haired woman with breasts that overflowed her low cut T-shirt appeared at their table asking if they wanted a drink. Joshua glanced at Elizabeth and asked, “What would you like?”
Elizabeth eyed the waitress, noting her tiny blue jean shorts and high heels. She said, “Jack and Coke.”
Joshua chuckled, “I guess Franklin has you all wrong.” He turned to the waitress and added, “Bring me the usual, Sal, and if the lady has no objections bring us a couple of steaks with all the trimmings, medium.” Elizabeth nodded her approval and Sal disappeared without another word.
Gradually, couples and small groups began to fill the tables. A three-man band appeared and started to sing a variety of time-honored country-rock tunes. As the bar filled with smoke and the lights dimmed further, Elizabeth found herself on the dance floor in Joshua’s arms. He didn’t say a word as they slowly moved to the rhythm of a soulful tune. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if it was Joshua or the three drinks she’d had with dinner, but she was feeling very comfortable and unusually uninhibited. She leaned against him and nuzzled his neck with her nose taking in the scent of him.
When the song was over Joshua released her and announced in a throaty voice, “It’s time I get you back to the hotel.”
Josh pulled his truck into the hotel parking lot. He offered Elizabeth, his hand as she climbed out of the truck. He slid his arm around her waist to guide her through the entrance and up the stairs. They stopped at her door, and Elizabeth pulled her room card from her purse. She gazed into his eyes, those magnificent blue eyes. He flashed what she could only describe as an incredibly sexy half smile, pulled her against him, and kissed her with more passion than she expected.
His kiss burned like fire. Elizabeth's breath left her instantly. When he released her, Elizabeth gasped for air and heard herself say, “Would you like to come inside?”
Joshua's eyes grew wide in surprise. He took the key card from her hand and unlocked the door, opening it for her. “I’d love to,” he answered, and followed her into the room.
Elizabeth spun slowly to face him as he closed the door. Their eyes met as he walked toward her. His hand wandered down her arm hesitating at her elbow to pull her gently against him.
He kissed her softly and said, “You sure you want to do this? You’re a bit tipsy.”
Her pouty lips parted slightly, and she drew a slow, deep breath. Joshua was acting the gentleman, but she could see the fire in his eyes. She said, “Shut up, and kiss me again.” She’d never wanted anyone more.
He slid his hands around her waist and slowly moved them downward, pulling her against him. She moaned as their lips met and gently dug her fingernails into his back. His lips broke away and explored the hollow of her throat as his hands moved to unbutton her blouse. Elizabeth sighed with pleasure and kicked off her shoes. She quickly removed her jeans and allowed her blouse to fall to the floor, then unbuttoned his shirt as he removed his jeans.
Her bra fell to the floor, and Joshua's hands trailed across her breasts. She arched her back and moaned. They fell onto the bed clinging desperately to each other.
**************
Elizabeth forced down her second glass of orange juice and half of the bagel that room service had delivered. Hydration was the key to ending a hangover. She dropped her robe on her bed, took a quick shower, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and dressed in a loose pink T-shirt and a pair of shorts. What happened last night? In one fell swoop, she successfully announced herself to the small town of Bailey as the New York City slut before she’d managed to move into the upper scale rural community. She stopped and touched her throat, remembering the heat of Joshua’s kiss. It was an incredible night of passion she would never forget. Joshua made her feel things she’d never thought imaginable.
She finished her juice, took another bite of the bagel and then headed for her car. Elizabeth had a seven o’clock appointment to look at a rental property. She was going to need temporary housing. Her uncle's home had burned to the ground long ago. The fire completely gutted the inside leaving only the hint of a frame behind. The house sat near the rear of the 200 acres that she’d inherited, but she was going to build near the center of the property, closer to the road. She couldn’t bring herself to rebuild on the site where her Uncle had died in the fire.
The trip to the rental house was quiet and serene. Elizabeth opened the sunroof of her rental and allowed the cool morning air to flow through the car. She turned off the main road and headed onto the wooded property, up a narrow, winding, gravel road with large ruts that mirrored her tire width. A small creek with a thin trickle of water ran across the road. Apparently, no one seemed to care since the road simply sank down into the creek and back out again. No wonder this house was cheap, Elizabeth thought. The renter would need a towering four-wheel drive truck like Joshua’s for rainy days, and a snowmobile to reach it in the winter. The ruts in the road grew deeper; Elizabeth struggled to straddle them with her car’s small tires. It reminded her of the road to her uncle’s house. She was beginning to understand why he always drove a pickup truck.
The trees began to thin as the road curved one last time to show a clearing with a small cedar cabin, detached garage, barn, and a corral. There was a tiny pond with a layer of green on top not far from the corral, and another slightly larger pond with clear water at the far end of the clearing. Elizabeth was enchanted. She pulled up in front of the split-level cabin. It had a big picture window that overlooked the large front lawn. It was a charming, rustic little log cabin with a one-step front stoop and a few small bushes. A large tree grew beside the front of the house. She pictured a rambunctious boy easily climbing out of a bedroom window to skinny down the tree for a midnight adventure. A cobblestone walkway led to the door. She glanced around and noticed a faded gray pickup truck parked behind the stables. An elderly man with a kind face dressed in faded jeans and a blue jean jacket appeared from inside the stables and waved at her.
She waved back and went to meet him. She pictured her dog, Charlie, running across the gap and rushing around the perimeter. Her seven-month-old Golden Retriever would love it here.
The man offered her his hand, “Hello Elizabeth, I’m Gene Weller; it’s nice to meet you.”
Elizabeth shook his hand. “Hello, Mr. Weller, you have a charming place here. I can’t wait to see the cabin.”
He motioned toward the cabin, and she turned to walk with him as he added, “It needs some updating, but everything is clean and in working order. The kitchen is fully stocked. You'll find dishes, pots, and pans, so you will only need the daily food essentials. My son uses it during hunting season and the holidays. He’s an avid the elk hunter. I just checked the stables and did a look around. I only found a couple of snakes. I’ll go ahead and bring Topper and Knobby by for a few days to clear out any that I may have missed. You can’t beat Tomcats as snake eaters. My two boys will clear this area in the wink of an eye.”
“Snakes?” Elizabeth glanced down at the grass when they veered to cut across the lawn.
“Rattlers,” he explained. “These Mountains are full of them, but I don’t think there’s a den close by, so not to worry. I found one snake way back behind the stables. I’ll leave my cats here for the next couple of weeks if you like. They’re crafty. Your retriever won’t even know they’re here.”
Elizabeth stopped and stared at him, “Rattlesnakes? My Uncle Wendell always said they usually kept deep into the woods.”
Mr. Weller stopped and turned to face her, “Darlin’ you are deep in the woods.”
*************
Joshua walked into Sheriff Randal Connor’s office. It was located in a small storefront converted to hold the only law enforcement office in town. He sat down on the seat in front of his desk. The Sheriff glanced up from his paperwork briefly then returned to his work.
Joshua frowned and said, “Don’t pre
tend to be working. Unless someone robbed the general store or the wolf pack returned to Beldon Falls, you are completely free of paperwork today.”
The Sheriff put his pen down and stared at Joshua. Pushing his light brown hair from his eyes, the Sheriff flashed Joshua a huge smile, “So I take it your meeting didn’t go so well last night. Was she everything you expected? Dowdy, fat, and covered with warts?”
Joshua sighed and put his feet up on the Sheriff’s desk. He leaned back in his seat and said, “Randy, she was the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. The night couldn’t have gone better.”
Randy asked, “Then why are you such a grouch?”
“It was too good to be true.” Joshua sat up abruptly. “I hit on her right out of the gate, and she didn’t bat an eye. We went to Sadie’s, and a couple of hours later we were back in her hotel room.”
Randy stared at him in disbelief and said, “You’re worse than I thought. Did you bed the old shrew? I know you took a hit when the real estate bubble burst, but that’s no reason to prostitute yourself for a contract.”
Joshua’s feet landed on the floor, and he leaned forward in his seat, “First of all, she was gorgeous. Probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Secondly, it had nothing to do with the contract. It was... I don’t know… It was crazy; it was intense, it was more than I expected. What I’m confident of, is it was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Randy looked at his best friend since childhood and said, “So you’ve entered new territory. Is it safe to say you just might have feelings for this gal?”
“No!” Joshua rose to his feet and headed for the door. “It’s not that at all. She just wasn’t what I expected. I plan to get this relationship back on a professional level. I’m not going to have some lovesick loner hanging all over me for the next few months while I build her home. That’s the last thing I need.”
Randy called after him, “Not every woman is like Joanne.” His response was the sound of a slamming door.
Chapter Two
Three-Year Rule Page 1
