Page 2 of Broken Rules
From now on, she would date the nice guys—men with bank accounts instead of safes, and actual jobs instead of addictions.
After fumbling a few bills, her diminished motor-skills finally came through. “Thank God,” she whispered when, at last, the numbers on the cash-out receipt matched the restaurant’s earnings for the night. She pressed her palms determinedly on the bar and stood, only to be struck by a rush of dizziness an instant later. Sitting back down, her gaze settled on the blurry martini glass. How many of those had she drunk? As the glass came into focus, so, too, did her memory.
Three martinis.
Way too many to drive home.
She glanced out the window at the pounding rain and groaned. Tourist season was in full force. She’d have to fork over a hundred dollars to get a room for the night.
Roman had already broken her heart, she wasn’t going to let him break her wallet, too.
Grabbing her phone, she scrolled through her contacts, looking for the right friend to call.
“Shit.” She set the phone down, remembering that she had to open the restaurant in the morning. Anyone still awake, who wouldn’t mind picking her drunk ass up, wouldn’t be thrilled about bringing her back so early.
Standing up, she steadied herself, then carefully crossed the room to the small balcony, which gave second-floor diners a place to smoke, and slid open the door. The black sky unleashed sheets of pelting rain. Savannah expelled a long breath and stepped outside with her face upturned. The salty air imbued every breath she took. Arms outstretched, she invited the drenching rain to course down her whole body as if it might wash away all the assholes who had ever left her high and dry.
She was sick and tired of being dry. She thirsted for more.
For once in her life, she wanted a love she could count on, a faithful love who wouldn’t ditch her for something prettier or thinner or younger or just plain different.
Jagged lightning cut the sky, briefly illuminating the coastal town around her. Her gaze was drawn, in that fleeting moment, to the three-story, million-dollar home situated beyond the parking lot of the restaurant. It sat on tall posts entrenched deep within the sand, surrounded by long tufts of seagrass, bent low by the barreling winds.
Joe’s house.
Joe Wilder was her boss, her former lover, and a ruthless combination of smooth womanizer and rich, confident playboy— totally irresistible until you scrape away the thin veneer of gorgeous, successful business man to the shallow asshole beneath.
Exactly the kind of man she was swearing off for good.
Joe’s claim to fame was that he was descended from a minor German baron: Baron Von Wilder, which he touted as if he were crown prince of New England. Joe worked his wealth, bedroom eyes, chiseled jaw, and this miniscule connection to royalty to his fullest advantage.
Women fell at his feet.
And Savannah had been no exception.
He was the epitome of the bad boy and broke her heart worse than the rest—though he didn’t know it.
Three years ago, she had been the new pretty face behind the bar. At first, like most women, she had found Joe to be completely irresistible with his velvety smooth tones and carefully executed compliments. It took him all of three shifts to invite her up to his fabulous house on posts.
She remembered the very moment when he’d won and she’d lost...
They had been standing on that same balcony, enjoying an after-work cocktail. The moon shone high in the sky. The rhythmic crashing of the waves added a sensual soundtrack to the moment when he leaned close, his eyes warm and intense, and rasped, “You’re different, Savvy. Different than all the rest.” He reverently stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “You make me feel alive.” He licked his bitable lips. “For the first time in my life, I can imagine being with only one woman.”
Done. Game over. Joe won.
And she thought she’d won, too, until he hired Brandi Bush (Her parents didn’t do her any favors in the name department either).
Joe couldn’t resist a shiny new toy or, in this case, a shiny new bush.
Brandi replaced Savannah; that is, until the next new hire. And as much as Brandi and Savannah regretted dating the boss, their mutual dislike of Joe became the basis of a wonderful friendship.
Savannah squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes on the New England palace when it flashed into view a moment later. Joe was old news. She was certainly not going to waste her time thinking about him.
With no family to call but for her ailing grandmother, she resigned herself to call an Uber, although she preferred not to ride alone at night. Turning back inside, she paused, suddenly struck by a sinfully fabulous idea. Excitement shot through her as she crossed, zigzagging slightly back to the bar and grabbed the stack of cash before heading upstairs to the office. Her three martinis and the newly fluttering butterflies in her stomach made her hands shake so that it took three attempts to get the safe open. When, at last, the small door swung wide, she added the night’s earnings to the stack of money in the back and began sifting through Joe’s numerous envelopes and loose papers.
For a moment, her conscience panged her. Joe would be furious if he knew what she was planning. Sure, he was a fair boss—paying his staff above industry-average wages and providing stellar benefits to ensure very little turnover, but that was business Joe. Business Joe was smart. Personal Joe was selfish and didn’t like to share.
“Yes,” she exclaimed when she found what she’d been hunting for—the envelope with Joe’s spare house key and the code to his alarm system...
