Page 1 of Broken Rules
Chapter One
Savannah sat at theempty bar where she worked, counting the night’s money for a second time. Rain pounded the large windows of The Cove, a swanky yet rustic restaurant on the affluent coast of Rye, New Hampshire. She took another sip of her dirty martini and started over. She couldn’t concentrate. Her mind was elsewhere, stuck on her ex who was probably, at that moment, gambling away his so-called paycheck at the casino up north in Maine.
“I can’t believe I did it again,” she groaned.
Why did she always fall for the bad ones?
She blamed her name.
If her mother had named her Eleanor or Noreen, something strong and classic, her life would have turned out so differently.
Barbara and Mary didn’t date guys called Chase or Diesel or Axel.
But Savannah Honey did.
She had dated them all—the brooding, quiet loner; the smooth womanizer; the rich, confident playboy; the angry sex god; the anarchistic rebel. With a name like Savannah Honey, she was destined to be a magnet for silver-tongued bad boys, who promised nights of thrilling, dangerous passion, and her last boyfriend, Roman, had been the rotten cherry on the day-old cake.
“Seven months,” she muttered, shaking her head.
Seven months wasted on him and his lies.
Wincing, she slid her black, patent-leather work clogs off her feet and stretched her toes. Then, she leaned over the bar, resting her head in the crook of her folded arms.
Such a shitty day.
Right as the dinner rush had kicked off, she received a text from her now ex.
Heading up to the casino for a few nights. Just me and the guys. Back Wednesday AM.
Whatever.
She thought gambling was a waste of money, but then again, she worked hard for hers; whereas, Roman skelped concert tickets for a living. But it wasn’t his gambling or his ridiculous excuse for a job that ended their seven-month relationship—although both were ample reasons to have ditched him long ago. It was the next text she’d received from Amy that put Roman on the chopping block.
Hi Savannah. I got Heather to cover my shifts. Heading up to the Casino with the girls.
Bullshit!
Amy was nineteen, a college freshman, completely naïve when it came to men, and one of The Cove’s hostesses, and after receiving her text, Savannah could add liar to Amy’s list of accolades.
“I’m such an idiot!” She took another heart-numbing, mind-dulling sip.
Savannah had noticed Roman ogling Amy whenever he came into the restaurant. Recently, he’d even begun to linger by the hostess stand whenever he dropped by. After catching him whispering in the teenager’s ear, making her blush, Savannah confronted him about it. But of course, he had eased her fears with a few smooth words about how Amy was just a little girl, not a woman like Savannah.
Total bullshit!
Clearly, Roman had Amy wrapped around his silver tongue.
Not that Savannah had any right to criticize her...well, except for the lying, two-faced part, but Savannah couldn’t claim to be any better in her judgement of character.
“But you are!” she said out loud to herself. “You’re better than this.” She tossed back the rest of her martini. It burned her throat as it went down, searing a path to her mangled heart.
Damn them all!
Sitting straighter, she began counting the restaurant’s money with new resolve.
Enough was enough.
No longer would she be tricked into love.
