Three rules id never bre.., p.1
Three Rules I'd Never Break, page 1
Three Rules I’d Never Break
A Sweet Romantic Comedy
Remi Carrington
Copyright ©2021 Pamela Humphrey
All Rights Reserved
Phrey Press
www.phreypress.com
www.remicarrington.com
First Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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ISBN-13: 978-1-947685-56-7
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Bonus Epilogue
A Note to Readers
Also by Remi Carrington
About the Author
Chapter 1
Running a business in a small town was a huge success for me. Dating in a small town . . . not so much. What was wrong with guys? I’d found a string of duds lately. They weren’t all from the small town where I lived, but that didn’t make me feel any better. In fact, it made me feel worse. Jeans and boots or suits and ties, no matter what they wore, they showed their true colors by the end of the night.
I knew better than to paint all guys with the same brush. But it seemed that most of the good ones were taken.
If good guys were out there and single, they sure weren’t asking me out.
After a quick glance at my speedometer, I wiped my eyes and focused on the road.
Tonight’s date was worse than the last few. Not that I went on many these days. I should’ve left as soon as he asked how the lingerie business was going. Shoot, I should’ve gotten back in my car when he’d greeted me with that icky grin. My alarms had gone off then, and I should’ve trusted my gut. Maybe I should add that to my rules—trusting my gut.
But I’d stayed, thinking it wouldn’t be all that bad. Usually, I made it until dessert before bad dates turned south. This guy propositioned me before drinks arrived at the table. Lucky for him or he might’ve been wearing his.
What about me attracted the bad guys? I was a rule-follower. I didn’t speed. At red lights, I stopped. When I changed lanes or turned, I used my blinker. In spite of my rule-following ways, men often made assumptions about me because I owned a lingerie store. And I hated when they did that.
With my dating track record, I chose places within walking distance, or I drove. Tonight, I’d driven, which was why I was wiping tears and trying to stay in my lane. Being so upset about it was embarrassing. It was just a bad date.
Now I was hungry, furious, and contemplating the idea of staying single. I should probably chuck my whole plan for a happily ever after. But so far, the success of my business hadn’t choked out my craving for a handsome husband and, maybe someday, a family.
Nothing would choke out that desire, more accurately a need. I needed to have a career and a husband, a dog and at least one kid. Anything short of that, and I feared that I’d turn into my mother. Of all the people in the world, she was not who I wanted to emulate.
My plan wasn’t going well.
Would I ever meet a man who was worth the effort of putting on heels and makeup? A guy who checked all the boxes. Someone who didn’t assume that lace signaled an aversion to commitment.
Okay. Slow down. Commitment? I needed at least a first date to go well.
After exiting the highway, I drove toward Stadtburg, brushing fresh tears off my cheeks. Anger had my eyes leaking.
At the red light, I turned right, eager to be home. Just as the strip mall came into view red and blue lights flashed behind me.
Tonight couldn’t get any worse.
I rolled down my window and waited, squeezing the steering wheel a little too tightly. The officer had no reason to pull me over, so now I was even more angry. That meant more tears.
Wiping my face and blinking, I smiled when he appeared at the window. Great. It was the hot one. Eli Gallagher. Most of the deputies in this county were married and/or old. This guy was neither. And my friends had been less than shy about trying to set us up. I’d be fine with that. Hello? He was extremely good-looking, and he was employed. But there was one teeny tiny problem with the setup thing.
He hardly spoke to me at social functions. He’d never pulled me over before. Maybe he was more talkative on the job.
“Evening. May I see your license and insurance please?” His brow knitted when I turned on my overhead light.
I dug through my purse, handing him what he needed as I found it. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You failed to come to a complete stop at the red light.”
“Right on red is allowed there.” I blinked rapidly. “Sorry, I have something in my eye.”
Tears. That was what I had in my eye. In both eyes actually.
He tapped his hand against his ticket book. “You didn’t come to a complete stop before turning.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t think my stop qualified as complete.”
He smirked. “Right.” He handed back my license and insurance paper. “Miss Carter, next time please make sure you stop completely before turning. Tonight, I’m issuing you a verbal warning.”
“What does that mean?” I thumped the steering wheel.
“It means you aren’t getting a ticket, only my mini lecture on not rolling a red light.”
“Thank you, Eli.” That part I meant. A ticket would have made me bawl, and doing that in front of him would be horribly embarrassing.
He nodded and turned.
I started the engine, rolled up my window, and shrieked when he knocked on the glass. Trying to find the right switch, I managed to roll down all the other windows before getting the driver’s side window down.
“Yes?”
He scrubbed his face, and I could see the concern swirling in his eyes. “You okay?”
All I had to do was nod and drive away, but no. I unloaded. “Are there any men in this county who don’t ask out a woman, hoping for nothing more than a one-night stand? It shouldn’t matter that I own a lingerie store. That doesn’t mean I want . . . want . . . that!”
His eyes widened as I continued.
“Why is it that the rotten apples seek me out? All I wanted was a puppy, but I can’t get one yet. And he seemed nice at first.”
“The puppy?”
“The guy. We didn’t even have our drinks yet when he asked me to—” I covered my face with my hands. “And now I’m making a fool of myself. I cry when I’m angry. It’s like when there’s a fire and the automatic sprinklers come on.”
He didn’t respond.
After a deep inhale and letting the breath escape, I turned to face him. “But, yeah, I’m okay.”
His jaw was clenched, and anger flared in his green eyes. What I expected to see wasn’t there. Pity. There wasn’t a hint of it anywhere on his face.
His head bobbed in a small nod, and he pointed at my overhead light. “It’ll be easier to see if you turn off that light.”
It was easier to see him with the light on. And now was when I should take a good look because after my display, he wouldn’t come anywhere near me again.
I’d wager money on that.
Chapter 2
Still fuming from my bombed date, I parked in front of the store, then marched across the parking lot and around the building. I unlocked the back door of my store, which also happened to be my temporary home. That was only because my beautiful new house would be finished in four months and my lease had ended two weeks ago. No way was I going to sign a six-month lease just to live there four months. The tiny apartment in the back of my lingerie shop would do for the short term.
My phone rang as I closed the door. “What?” I didn’t normally answer the phone that way, but I’d seen who called. Sending the call into oblivion would have been smarter, but hearing one more apology—even a fake one—might ease a bit of my rage.
“Don’t be mad, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” The jerk sighed. “Don’t be difficult. I just pulled up outside your shop. I saw your car out front. Let’s go grab a drink and talk about it. Or I could come in . . .”
There were so many things wrong with what he’d said I didn’t even know where to start. It had creeped me out in the restaurant when he’d asked about my business because I hadn’t mentioned owning a lingerie store. It creeped me out even more that he’d driven to where I worked . . . and lived.
The name I used in my day-to-day life wasn’t what was on all my offi cial documents. My mother—God love her—was so outside the box, she wasn’t aware of the box. Anyway, she chose my first name; my dad decided on my middle name. All my documents were under the name Shasta D. Carter. The D stood for Delaney. That was the name I used.
But the weirdo didn’t know my name was Shasta. People who knew couldn’t keep from making jokes about it.
“Not interested.” I ended the call and tossed my purse on the bed. While I could act tough, my insides felt like jelly. I needed to calm down.
When I was young, I’d learned to take care of myself. That was when I learned the first rule. Then with my success in business had come challenges and creeps, and I added two more rules. Even when following all of them, I still found the bad boys. More accurately, they found me. Why? I didn’t want a bad boy. But that seemed to be the only type of guy who wanted me. I guess owning a lingerie store sent that signal. Thus, the rules.
Rule one. Never get caught with your pants down. I’d learned this rule from a drunk old man outside a sketchy bar in a tiny coastal town out west. He shared the advice with me—I was only seven at the time—then promptly got in trouble breaking his own rule. Literally. Thankfully, I hadn’t seen it. I’d just heard him shouting at the police about it while I hid in the backseat of my mom’s car. Even as young as I was, I understood what he meant and added the second part to that rule. Always be prepared for anything.
Rule two. Never model the merchandise. This was a frequent request. Ugh. What weirdo thought I’d actually do that?
Rule three. Never date a customer. If they made their way into my shop, they were in a relationship, and I wasn’t going to be an extra or a home wrecker. And the guys who said they were shopping for their mom—liars. All of them.
I shrugged off my cute little jacket and returned it to the hanger. Piece by piece, I shed my clothes, eager for a shower to wash off the stench of the bad date. Because the only bathroom was across the hall, I wrapped a towel around me for the short trip. The windows across the front had blinds—which were closed—but I still opted for a towel because of rule number one.
I tiptoed across the dark hallway, turned on the bathroom light, and closed the door.
After turning on the shower, I pulled my hair into a ponytail, then smeared on a calming face mask. Calming probably meant it was for irritated skin, but right now I was willing to try anything. Maybe a mini spa session in the shower would relax me. It had to.
I pulled back the curtain to step into the shower and stopped when I heard a thunk. That sounded close.
Had I forgotten to lock the door? I closed my eyes, trying to remember. The jerk had called right after I’d stepped inside. I couldn’t remember if I’d locked the bolt.
I pressed my ear to the door.
Footsteps. Someone was definitely in my store.
Had that creep come in? If he’d snuck in, this wouldn’t end well for him. I could call the police, but my phone was on my bed across the hall.
I needed a plan.
The bathroom didn’t offer much in the way of defensive weapons. After a quick scan, I tightened the towel around me and picked up the plunger. Whoever got hit with this deserved it.
I pushed open the door and tiptoed into the hall.
“Hands up! Drop the . . . Delaney?” A figure stood with a flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other. The voice was all too familiar, but thankfully not the jerk’s.
The plunger hit the ground as my hands shot up. Even though I knew Eli had figured out it was me, I obeyed.
The man had a gun; I had a towel.
“What are you doing here, Eli?” I glanced down as the purple Egyptian cotton towel responded ever so slightly to the pull of gravity.
Why had I thrown my hands into the air with such gusto? Keeping the rise and fall of my chest to a bare minimum, I dropped my elbows lower.
Silently, I begged the towel not to slip.
“The burglar alarm.” He lowered his gun.
That was the other thing I’d forgotten. To turn off the silent alarm.
“Is there anyone else here with you?” He moved toward my bedroom door.
“There better not be. You can check.” If my dud of a date had snuck in, I’d rather Eli handle the greeting.
He swept the flashlight around my room. “It’s clear.”
The towel was definitely moving downward. “Um, can I put my hands down because if they stay up any longer, this towel is going to fall right off. And I’d prefer that not happen. I’ve sort of exceeded my embarrassment allotment for the . . . year.” I’d broken rule one. Literally. Not only had I been caught unprepared, but my mistakes had caused the situation.
He shifted the flashlight away from me. “Yeah. Sorry. Just keep your hands where I can see them, Miss Carter.”
Of all the deputies to respond to an alarm at my lingerie shop, it had to be the gorgeous one who had just pulled me over and could barely string a complete sentence together whenever I was around him. It was adorable in a way to see him all tongue-tied. But the chances of this guy asking me out were somewhere between zero and negative a thousand.
After tonight, he probably wouldn’t even look at me, let alone speak to me. That was a shame because he was one of the good guys. He checked all the boxes.
With my arms crossed in front of me, holding the towel in place, I cleared my throat. “Do you have some sort of report that needs to be filled out? Do I need to sign something saying that it was a false alarm?”
“Nope.” He looked at the wall beside me.
Why bother keeping my hands where he could see them? He was making a great effort not to look at me.
“So . . . can I turn off the alarm and get in the shower?”
His brow furrowed, and he stared at my face. He probably couldn’t even say what color my towel was. He hadn’t let his gaze drop that low. “Yep. But it’s not safe for you to be here . . . like that.”
“Why not?” I didn’t react well to being told what to do, or in this case, what not to do. Then I remembered how much Eli hated it when my friend Cami had lived in the back of the photography studio in the same strip mall.
He clenched his jaw. “Someone could break in.”
“And you’d show up as soon as they did. I didn’t even have time to get in the shower.” I walked closer to him, taking out a bit of my frustration on the poor deputy. “I don’t plan to live here long if that makes you feel any better.”
“It doesn’t.” Backing toward the door, matching my pace exactly, he shook his head. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you at first with that stuff on your face and wearing only a . . .” He spun around and hurried toward the rear exit. “By the way, the back door wasn’t locked.”
The heavy door closed with a thud.
After turning off the alarm, I leaned against the door, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.
At least I’d kept my wits about me. I had to find a small victory in the horribly embarrassing situation. Another tiny victory—my towel hadn’t fallen off. That was good.
A knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts.
Eli didn’t need to see me wearing only a towel a second time, so I leaned close to the door without touching it. I didn’t want to leave face mask smear.
“What?”
“I didn’t hear the bolt latch.” Eli didn’t miss much.
I flipped the bolt. “Happy now?”
“Good night.”
There wasn’t anything good about this night. After all the drama, hunger consumed me, but I had to wash off the stupid face mask before I could go out in public. And put on clothes.
So much for not getting caught with my pants down. I’d been caught with them missing entirely. And it rattled me.
Chapter 3
After washing off my calming mask and putting on something more appropriate than a towel, I called my friend Tessa. “Have you eaten?”
