Broken Rules: A Stand Alone Romance Page 5

  And, once again, he was gone.

  Chapter Six

  Savannah crossed to the service side of the bar and snatched the new ticket off the printer. “Coming right up,” she said to Esme when the waitress slammed her tray on the counter. Esme’s features were delicate and pretty, even when she scowled.

  Savannah quickly poured the light beer and set it on Esme’s tray. “Hey, you okay tonight?” she asked softly.

  Esme’s big blue eyes filled with tears. She rubbed her hand over her freshly shaved head. “I just want to work and forget about everything, but my customers keep asking me why I shaved my head. I don’t want to tell them its because chemo has made my little sister’s hair fall out in chunks.”

  Savannah leaned closer and put her hand on Esme’s. “What you did was selfless and brave.”

  Esme shook her head bitterly. “I’m not brave. It’s Eva who’s the brave one.” Tears streamed down Esme’s cheeks.

  “Your sister is fighting like hell. She’s going to beat it.”

  Esme took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes. “I know she is,” she said, her voice regaining its strength. “I just don’t think I’m going to make it through the night, if I have to explain to one more person why I shaved my head.”

  Savannah scowled. “Screw them. They shouldn’t be so nosy.”

  Esme shrugged. “Well, they are.”

  Savannah chewed her lip while she considered how to help Esme get through the night. “I’ve got it,” she said brightly. “If anyone asks about your hair, tell them that you’re leaving soon for a six-week sojourn in a Buddhist temple in Bhutan.”

  Esme burst out laughing. “A six-week sojourn in a Buddhist temple in Bhutan? Can I really say that?”

  Savannah lifted her shoulders. “Why not?”

  Esme reached across the bar and wrapped her arms around Savannah’s neck. “You’re brilliant. I’m doing it.”

  Esme lifted her tray above her shoulder. “Bhutan, here I come.” She turned toward the dining room, but then stopped and glanced back. “Where the hell is Bhutan?”

  Savannah laughed. “Near Tibet.”

  “What’s near Tibet?” Brandi asked as she passed Esme.

  “Long story,” Savannah said before she read the new ticket. “Another drink special—girl, you’re on fire tonight.”

  Brandi smiled. “This should be a good night. All my tabs have been over a hundred dollars. Hey, speaking of good nights, I’ll close for you tonight.”

  Savannah glanced sidelong at Brandi while she poured tequila into a chilled pint glass. “Don’t you have plans with Mr. Darcy?”

  Brandi shook her head. “No, William has a paper due in the morning.”

  Savannah grabbed the grapefruit juice from the fridge and filled the glass just under halfway. “Thanks,” she said as she put the cap back on the juice. “But Joe said he didn’t want anyone closing but me while he was away. Anyway, this is it. Joe’s back tomorrow and I have the day off.”

  “Lucky you,” Brandi said dryly. “You only opened and closed ten days in a row. That man sucks. Right now, he’s probably rubbing elbows with some duke while we’re here keeping his business running. I hope his plane crashes.” Brandi’s eyes widened. “No, I didn’t mean that. I don’t want everyone else to have to die, too.”

  Savannah smiled. “How about, instead of a plane crash, the Earl of freaking Sandwich calls his sorry ass out for a duel and runs him through.”

  Brandi smiled. “Yes! Or maybe a peasant uprising. Decapitation should take his ego down a few notches.”

  Laughing, Savannah poured the mix into an oversized martini glass, then added a squirt of soda before setting it on the service counter.

  “Thanks,” Brandi said as she garnished the glass with a slice of blood orange. “By the way, Savvy, you look really good. You’ve had this glow about you the past couple days. If I didn’t know better, I would say you had a new man in your life.”

  “Yeah,” Savannah said weakly. “Like I’ve had time for men.”

  “At least you’re staying out of trouble, especially after that last asshole you dated.”

  Savannah hated lying to Brandi, but there was no way she could tell her about her thief-for-hire. “Yup, just doing my thing right now. Actually, I’ve sworn off men altogether, both naughty and nice.”

  “Oh God,” Brandi grimaced.

  “What,” Savannah said defensively. “It’s not forever.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Brandi said quickly. Then her voice dropped. “Don’t look now, but Skeevy Stevie just walked in.”

  “No,” Savannah groaned. She looked up at the clock. “Only ten minutes until last call, too.”

  “You don’t have to be nice to him,” Brandi whispered before hurrying away with her drink.

  “Trust me, nice isn’t even an option.”

  She looked at the newcomer from the corner of her eyes. As always, his thick hair was parted on the side and slicked down. Dotting his jaw was the shadow of a beard. He sat hunched over, his curved shoulders clad in a nearly sheer yellow button-down shirt. She shuddered as she glimpsed the white tank top underneath. Pushing his thick, brown frames up the bridge of his nose, he considered the cocktail menu.

  “Hey, Savvy,” he said, smiling at her when she approached.

  She froze. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Only Brandi can call me that.”

  “Fine, Savannah,” he said like a petulant child.

  She tensed her shoulders against the overwhelming urge to call Wally from the kitchen and have him thrown out, but creepiness did not warrant expulsion. She decided she would have to talk to Joe about expanding their no-serve policy to include creepy men, but then she realized that would blacklist the voyeuristic owner of The Cove, himself. “Hey Brandi,” she called after her friend. “Hold up.”

  Brandi hastened back to the service bar. “What’s up?”

  Savannah leaned close. “Listen, I think Joe might have a hidden camera in the office.”

  “What?” Brandi gasped.

  “I’m going to talk to him when he gets back, but obviously, no more changing in the office.”

  “Such a scum bag!”

  “I know!”

  Brandi rolled her eyes, jerking her head toward the bar. “Speaking of scum bad, Steve’s tapping his fingers on the bar.”

  “I’m gonna scream!”

  “Take a deep breath, Savvy. Remember, it’s last call. The night’s almost over.”

  Inhaling deeply, she turned to face her least favorite customer. “What will it be, Skeeve? I mean, Steve,” she said, not feeling in the least bad about her subtle jab. If he got to stare at her chest for the next twenty minutes, then she could at least release some of her pent-up aggression.

  “Rum and soda, top-shelf, not that shit you gave me last time. I’m wise to you, Savannah. I know all your secrets.”

  Her stomach twisted in disgust as she turned away and quickly made his drink.

  “Seven dollars, and this is it. It’s last call.” Then she turned away and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Last call,” she shouted to the remaining customers.

  After making the last few drinks, she motioned for Sam to join her behind the bar. “You can finish your side work after we’re closed, cover the bar for me. I’ve already done last call. All tabs are paid. I’m going to head up to the office early.”

  She didn’t give Skeevy Stevie another glance as she headed through the dining room. They had stopped serving food an hour earlier, so the room was mostly empty. Out back, the servers were just finishing their side work.

  She pushed open the kitchen door. “How was your night, Wally?”

  Wally looked up from scrubbing the grill. “Glad it’s over.”

  “That good, huh?”

  Then she noticed William behind the line. “Good luck getting your paper done.”

  “I finished it during lunch.”

  She smiled. “Big plans tonight, then?”

  He blushed pi
nk and lifted his shoulders. “Maybe,” he said, then dropped his gaze and continued washing the counter, a smile playing at his lips.

  “He doesn’t kiss and tell,” she said to Wally. “Take note.” Then she called out to all the kitchen guys. “I challenge you all to be more like William. When you are with a woman, think W.W.W.D?—what would William do?”

  She turned on her heel and was struck by a new acronym: W.W.B. B. D? What would Brandi Bush do?

  Just then, her role model came bounding down the stairs. She was dressed in a pair of cutoffs, a tank top with a sweatshirt tied around her waist and flip flops.

  “You look cute,” Savannah told her. “Where are you and William off to? He wouldn’t tell.”

  Brandi smiled, happiness seeping from her every pour. “Really? He’s so sweet. That’s just like him. Well, he may not kiss and tell,” she began under her breath before she grabbed Savannah and pulled her into the corner. “But I’m going to. Savvy, he is amazing. We did it for the first time last night, and I cannot begin to tell you how incredible it was. Tender, romantic.” She groaned. “And so hot!”

  Savannah stole a quick glance at William who was scraping the fat off the grill. She had a hard time believing that his tall, lanky form could incite such a reaction from Brandi.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Brandi said. “But what he lacks in muscle size, he makes up for in other ways.” A squeal came peeling from her lips.

  Savannah raised her brows in surprise. “Who knew?”

  “Right?” Brandi beamed. She started to walk toward the line, but then she stopped and gave Savannah a playful look. “Oh, and did I tell you, he runs marathons. Marathons,” she said again with emphasis. Then Brandi darted forward, goosing Wally as she passed and wrapped her arms around William’s neck.

  Savannah threw her hands up as she turned her back on the passionate new couple and headed up to the office.

  After the last server dropped off their cash, she waited, listening to their feet drum down the stairs. And then she heard the distant thud of the heavy backdoor shutting. She closed her eyes, and for a moment just listened to the silence.

  She was alone.

  Her heart started to race.

  Would he come?

  She held her breath waiting, wanting for him to be there so much.

  Chapter Seven

  Savannah stared at the clock in the office. It was almost two-thirty in the morning. She’d finished her closing duties an hour ago, but still she lingered, waiting...for him.

  Last night, he had said it wasn’t goodbye. If that was true, then where was he?

  Then an idea occurred to her that made her heart race even faster, but not for a good reason.

  What if a job went wrong and he got caught? What if he was, at that moment, sitting in jail?

  She groaned. Why the hell was she worrying about a guy who could have been busted for armed robbery.

  What was wrong with her?

  She wasn’t a stupid girl. She was pretty smart, actually. She had a degree in English. She was well-read and reasonably well-traveled thanks to her college summers spent backpacking around Europe. She was a manager at a successful restaurant in an affluent town with a steady income and a savings account. She had even started investing her money.

  Hell, she had a 401k.

  She wasn’t an idiot. But still, all evidence at that moment said otherwise. She was alone, holding her breath, desperately wishing for an admitted criminal to break into her place of employment and kiss her through his freaking balaclava.

  It was official.

  She was a bad, stupid girl.

  She pressed her hands against the table and stood. Then, with determination imbuing her stance, she crossed the room, grabbed her purse, and left her office. Ignoring the little voice inside her that begged her to stay and wait so that she could feel his hands on her body again, she carried on, down the stairs and out the back door. When the sea air hit her face, she took a deep breath.

  She had done it.

  She had walked away from the bad boy.

  Hopping into her Jeep, she headed out onto the main beach drive toward her cottage. She smiled, feeling that special sense of pride one only feels when they’ve triumphed over an addiction. Like when she quit smoking or that time she refused to go to Vegas with Brandi, knowing the short excursion would just end up draining her savings and adding more notches to her bedpost.

  Yes, she, Savannah Honey, had made the hard choice and won against her strongest enemy—herself.

  When she arrived home, she unlocked the door and stepped into her small mudroom. Dropping her keys and bag on the slim antique side table she had refinished to shabby chic perfection, she headed into the galley kitchen and reached for the bottle of red on the counter. But then she stopped, and instead, grabbed the small kettle on her back burner and filled it with water.

  She was going to have an alcohol-free, caffeine-free, bad boy-free chamomile tea. And more than that, she was not going to stay up until dawn binge watching teen-vampire shows. She was going to sip her tea and go to bed, so that she had energy to enjoy her first day off in nearly two weeks.

  If it hadn’t been three in the morning, she might have even called her nonna to tell her how awesome her granddaughter was.

  With her steaming mug clasped between both hands, she crossed into her living room and sat in her cozy chair by the window. Bypassing the women’s fashion magazine that was only going to make her feel like her healthy curves weren’t skinny enough, she took up her favorite book that she’d read a million times. Running her hand down the worn cover, she glanced at the many dog-eared pages visible in the binding, but then her smile vanished.

  She narrowed her gaze on the cover of Wuthering Heights, starring the ultimate bad boy—Heathcliff before she dropped it back on the table, deciding she needed a new favorite book. No longer was she going to be Catherine racing across the moors in the rain, her heart aching for her tortured love. What she needed was an Edgar Linton type—kind, tender, loving. She was going to take a page from Brandi and find herself a sweet guy in possession of hidden treasures.

  She finished her tea and put the cup in the sink before stepping into the bathroom. It was a good thing she wore her blond curls in a bob. Her water heater was small, and the pressure was rubbish. Still, she loved her near-the-beach cottage...although, one day, she hoped to be wealthy enough to buy actual beach-front property, a sail boat, and expensive linen drawstring pants and barely-there tank tops.

  Smiling at her future self, she climbed into the shower and rinsed off the day. Inhaling her peach-scented shampoo, she bade goodbye to The Cove’s signature seafood fragrance. Scrubbed clean, she stepped out, dried off, and wrapped her towel around herself before crossing back through her narrow kitchen. Despite the warmth of the night, as she left her steamy bathroom, goosebumps dotted her arms. Shivering, she padded quickly across her living room floor, then up the stairs into her bedroom.

  Shuffling through her dresser, she sought her favorite, feather-soft t-shirt when, suddenly, a hand covered her mouth from behind.

  Chapter Eight

  Heart pounding, she clawed at the hand.

  “Savannah, it’s me,” a soft voice breathed in her ear.

  She froze. The hand dropped away from her mouth. She turned around. Her face was a breath away from a familiar black mask.

  “It’s you,” she said, her heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to be with you in a place with fewer cameras.” He crossed the room to her door and took down her robe from the hook and handed it to her.

  Her hands shook as she swept the soft, white cotton over her shoulders. She shimmed her hips, wiggling out of her towel before she cinched the tie around her waist.

  “I waited for you at the restaurant. I thought something happened to you.”

  “I’m sorry I worried you.”

  “When did you get here?”

  “Sometime ago.” />
  “Why didn’t you come out when I first arrived?”

  “I didn’t want to intrude upon your tea.”

  She blew out a long breath. “Once again, you’re very considerate for a thief.”

  What was she doing? She had been ready to get a good night’s rest. For pity’s sake, the man had broken into her house! She should be kicking him out, or better yet, calling the police.

  But that’s not what she did...

  “Take off your mask.” The words came out in a rush.

  “Okay,” he started to reach for his mask, but her stomach flipped.

  “Stop,” she squeaked. Clearing her throat and composing herself, she continued, “I mean, I didn’t think you were actually going to go through with it.”

  He made of show of scanning her room. “Why? Do you have cameras? Not that I would be opposed to a little video in the right context.” Again, she could hear the smile that his mask hid.

  “Do you want me to keep it on?”

  She swallowed hard. “No, it’s not that. It’s just...I’m nervous.”

  He reached for the zipper of his vest and began to inch it down. “What if I do it slowly?”

  She covered her face with her hands. “Oh God.” She took a deep breath. “Okay.” Peeking through the V’s of her splayed fingers, she watched him slowly lift his mask. First, his familiar chiseled jaw and full, nibble-worthy lips came into view. Then he whisked the dark fabric away.

  They locked eyes.

  He was devilishly handsome. She drank in the sight of his mussed black curls and deep-set, amber eyes, framed by thick black brows. There was a passionate strength in his square jaw and the elegant lines of his face.