Page 42 of Breaking Emily's Rules
“He’s your basic war hero. Not your type, right? I’m thinking the man takes too many risks. You know, for God and country.”
“You’re not funny.” There wasn’t anything wrong with taking control when it came to romance. That was why I’d invented Emily’s Rules.
“And there’s also Pilots and Paws. Yeah, he flies dogs from kill shelters around the country to their forever homes. So, he’s basically Superman.”
“We had a fund-raiser for them here once.”
“What’s he like? He didn’t talk much when I met him. I mostly talked to his office manager. He’s a man of few words, I’m guessing.”
“You’re right. I thought I bored him, until today.” Except that I’d made the first move, no matter what he said. Mostly because I’d lost my head for a minute.
“What happened today?”
“I kissed him.” It was a peck but it counted. I was counting it.
Rachel squealed. “You are serious about this wild woman thing. Girl, you haven’t kissed a guy first since Jimmy Duvell in the tenth grade.”
Leave it to Rachel to remember, and darned if she wasn’t right about that. The memories came flooding back. “And he threw up right after I did.”
“He’d eaten too many nachos.”
It was most probably the real reason I’d never again kissed a guy first until recently. This time it had worked out so much better.
“So, how was it?” Rachel asked. “Kissing a pilot? I used to have a fantasy about that. I still have the hat.”
I now had to push one other unwanted image out of my head. “It was—”Hot. Sexy. Scary. Wild.“Amazing.”
There were protesting male sounds in the background, and I recognized Jake’s voice. “Gotta go. Hot Stuff keeps reminding me I’m already pregnant, so we might as well take advantage. He’s got a point.”
“See you later.”
I hung up with a frown. I loved my friend, but never could understand Rachel’s obsession with sex. Or Molly’s, for that matter. Sex was nice, pleasant, sure, and I’d enjoyed it, too. Being held so close by the man you loved and feeling good about the orgasmic glow all over his face. For me, there’d never been any firecrackers, sunbursts, stars exploding behind my eyes or song lyrics, for that matter. Not any orgasms either. I figured sex was just not my thing. It would be nice if it was and, on some level, I kept hoping.
My cell phone buzzed again. Trish this time. I was nearly afraid to pick it up. A few days ago I had picked up the phone at 1:00 a.m., thinking it had to be an emergency and that someone was dead, but it was only Trish, unable to sleep and wanting to change her wedding flowers from red roses to orange daylilies.
For the wedding which was one year away!
“Hey, Trish.”
“Oh, my God, I just came up with the greatest idea! Doves!”
I pulled out the five page wedding ‘manifesto’ Trish had emailed to make a note.
“Dove chocolate?”
“No, silly. I want beautiful white doves released at the end of our ceremony! It’s perfect. You have a ranch and all that wide open space, and so we’ll just release those beautiful creatures into the bright sky. Two of them, a male and a female. Like me and Jimmy, if we were doves, flying into the future. Our destiny together. Isn’t that romantic?”
I swallowed. “Doves? Would you maybe settle for a couple of chickens?”
Trish burst out into peals of laughter. “Oh, you are a kick! I will say that you know how to make me laugh. But this is serious. My wedding day, remember?”
“I know. The day to end all days.” And if that was beginning to take on a worrisome, nuclear-holocaust-like tone, that would be Trish’s fault.
I hung up with Trish and started researching doves online. I started off with ‘why doves are a bad idea at a wedding.’ I needed ammunition.
A few hours and twenty searches later, my doorbell rang. I froze. That would be Stone, and I wasn’t quite ready for him. Would I ever be? Stone was outside my little loft, where I’d never had a man before. The thought of it two weeks ago had made Grammy laugh. Because I had been entirely too predictable all my life, that was why. But that too was going to change. The doorbell rang again and I shoved a bag of Cheetos under a couch pillow then lunged for the door.
“Wait. I’m coming!” I threw open the door toTop Gun–aviator shades Stone. That was always a good look for him.
