Page 2 of Three Rules I'd Never Break

“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 official 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.

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