Page 41 of Breaking Emily's Rules
“Casual—and that’s all you get. No more questions.”
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Emily
I drove home,wondering what I’d signed up for. He’d said casual. Casual pants or casual dress? Casual country or casual Fifth Avenue? At home, I showered and okay, waxed (one could never be too careful, but yeah, it wasn’t going to happen) and tried on several different shades of lipstick and eye shadow. Green looked too pretentious on my eyelids and blue way too smutty.
I went with brown, my standby. Safe. Reliable. Every color of lipstick I owned made me look like a madame, so I decided to go with the clear gloss. I tore through my dressers and closet, discarding dresses, tops and slacks. Nothing seemed quite right. There were at least a hundred different levels of casual, and I’d gone through every one of them in the past two hours. When I thought I might have a coronary over the decision whether to wear a dress or jeans, I had to finally reminded myself this was a “casual” date. Whatever that meant. Jeans it was.
At times like these, the loft did lend privacy, as I didn’t have Grammy there to wonder why I was methodically going through everything I owned. Or Molly, with her keen observation for all things men-related, zeroing in on the fact I was nervous. About a man.
What am I doing?Oh yeah, I agreed to one date.But Stone was not my type. I’d stayed miles away from the handsome men. Because I wanted and needed control, I’d dated the kind of man who was stable and secure, safe and—andlook where that got me.It got me Greg. Reliable Greg, who color coded everything in his closet and had every detail of our lives planned down to the days of the week we’d make love.
That was why it had been so humiliating to find him with Nika.
It wasn’t even a scheduled day for sex. It was a Monday, and Greg always required a good night’s sleep for his early Tuesday morning meetings at work. So when I’d come over to bring him an early dinner that afternoon, ready to leave early so he could get his much-needed rest, I’d been shocked to find him on the kitchen floor with Nika—who was cleaning a lot more than the sink that day.
Even now, I couldn’t push the image out of my mind. No way would I ever unsee that. I’d run out on both of them, without even so much as an “excuse me for interrupting,” and informed my family the wedding was off. Eventually, Rachel had wrenched the whole sordid story out of me and been kind enough not to say “I told you so.”
Now, I sighed and pulled out my laptop, ready to do some last minute work before going out. It was my job to run every marketing tool for our family business. I alone kept the website and social media updated and the blog I couldn’t seem to get myself to update on a regular basis. I posted some tweets and status updates, reminded everyone of our new wedding events package and checked our events schedule for the next month.
My cell phone rang. Rachel. We hadn’t talked much in the past week. “Hey. Everything okay?”
“We got an ultrasound, and it’s a boy!” Rachel squealed into the phone. “There’s no hiding that little pecker. Mr. Hot Stuff is so happy.”
“Oh, honey, congratulations!” I bit back the envy that coursed through me. If things had turned out differently, I might have been pregnant as well. But pregnant with the spawn of Satan. It was probably better this way.
“So what’s new with you? I’ve been so busy I feel like we haven’t talked in weeks. How close are you to getting your pilot’s license?”
“You wouldn’t believe it. You know the guy you wanted me to ask out at the coffee shop? He’s the pilot!”
Rachel giggled into the phone. “Isn’t that something?”
If I hadn’t known Rachel since the ninth grade, I might not have heard the teasing tone in my friend’s voice. “What’s so funny?”
“I might as well confess. I knew he was the pilot, because I was at the airport a couple of months ago to sell them some advertising space.”
“But you’re a reporter.”
“At a small town paper. We do a little bit of everything. When I took a look at that man, I knew he’d be someone who could give you a wild time. Lessons or not.”
Okay, so I’d been thinking about it. A lot. Maybe it was time to try something different. I’d bet a lifetime supply of chocolate that Stone didn’t have designated days of the week for sexy times. More like whenever the spirit moved him, which I pictured was often.
“I wish you’d told me.”
“Why? Then you would have let it stop you from taking lessons, with your silly dry spell idea. So? Have you, uh, you know, yet?”
“No, we haven’t ‘you know’ yet. Have I known him for six months?”
“Right. What was I thinking? Emily’s Rules. What a shame. I had him checked out anyway. If I’m going to play matchmaker for my best friend, I’m going to make sure the man isn’t a convicted rapist. Or an ax murderer. He’s neither, by the way.”
Stone, an ax murderer. He was scary, but not that kind of scary.
“Good to know I’m safe.” Although safe was a relative term.
“I didn’t say that. He sure doesn’t look safe, at least not on paper.”
I worried a fingernail between my teeth. “So what else did you learn about him?”
