Katie McGarry - Breaking The Rules

That siren smile that I love so much crosses her face. Her fingers reach up and trace the line of my jaw. “You are the most impossible person I know.”

“Damn straight.”

“That’s not always a good thing. Sometimes you make life more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Never said I was going to be easy.”

“I know,” she says as her smile fades. “I never said I was going to be easy, either. In fact, I promised the opposite.”

“I like you just the way you are.”

My fingers tease the end of her sweater again, but this time Echo doesn’t stop me as I edge the material off her arm. In fact, she leans forward so I can slip the entire sweater off and toss it to the floor where it belongs.

I skim the length of her arm, specifically the longest scar from top to bottom. “Why, Echo?”

“Why what?”

“Why hide them again?”

She’s silent, and we won’t leave this bed until she answers.

It’s hard to imagine her lying in a pool of her own blood. It drives me crazy that I almost lost her before I had the chance to meet her. I’m schooled in loss and understand its permanence.

Just the thought of losing Echo creates an anger bordering on fear. It’s a dangerous combination, and I hate her mother for causing such suffering and pain.

Echo’s breathing hitches when I slide my thumb along a smaller scar. She likes that spot. I’ve memorized it. A centimeter below the crook of her elbow. Her skin is sensitive there, and when I kiss it, Echo normally falls apart and nearly shatters.

I gently press my lips behind her ear, and Echo nudges closer to me. “Why, Echo?”

“Because.”

I nip at her earlobe, and she shivers. “Because why?”

Her shoulder moves under my body. A half shrug maybe. “It makes me feel better.”

Fuck that. “Why?”

A kiss on her neck. A long one. A lingering one. God damn, Echo tastes so good. Her skin is soft and tempting. But I want answers.

“Because sometimes I want to blend in.”

I raise my head and stare straight into her eyes, spotting the plain honesty. What she doesn’t understand is that she could never blend in. Blazing red hair. Bright emerald eyes. The most beautiful girl in the world. She’d turn heads regardless of a sweater.

As I open my mouth to respond, my phone rings.

Echo

Noah drops his forehead to my shoulder and groans. Good God, I completely understand. My body pulsates like a five-alarm fire. I kiss his collarbone and rub my hand along his spine, in regret...in apology. His phone rings a third time. “You should answer.”

“Fuck.” He presses his lips against my neck before drawing away and yanking his phone out of his back pocket. “Yeah.”

Noah’s eyes meet mine, and I tilt my head in question. I exhale when he subtly shakes a no, telling me the call is benign.

“Yeah,” he says again then flashes a smile promising lots of naughtiness. “I understand.”

Noah cups my waist and swipes his finger underneath the material of my shirt. My mouth pops open. No way. There is no way he means to explore while he’s on the phone. His hand begins to travel for my bra. Holy freaking crap. I bat at his arm and mouth. “No.”

“Why?” he mouths back, but his grin grows.

“Because,” I yell-whisper.

Noah lowers his arm away from my bra and instead snakes it around my waist, gathering me to his side. He nuzzles my hair before saying into his cell, “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Thanks.”

He ends the call and slides his phone back into his jeans. “Tell me I’m forgiven.”

“Who was that?” I ask.

In lightning-fast movements, Noah rolls us both, and his heavy weight pins me against the mattress. “Say I’m forgiven.”

“For what?” My brain goes blank. Noah’s on top of me, and subconsciously my legs hook around his. Through his jeans and my jean shorts there are parts of him that are sweetly touching parts of me.

We haven’t made love yet. I think of it. I dream of it. Sometimes I wake up so on edge that I worry I’ll explode, but when it comes to it , I haven’t found the courage to cross the line. And Noah’s always patient...so patient. Even when he has to resort to cold showers or really, really long hot ones.

I don’t ask what he’s doing in there, but I kinda can guess, and that only makes me feel epically worse.

“For upsetting you this morning,” he answers. “Tell me I’m forgiven.”

I nod because I love him, and I can’t imagine not forgiving him. “Just don’t do it again.”

Noah rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes as if I handed him a death row pardon. “I love you, Echo.”

The pterodactyls that only he can create lift their wings and soar in my stomach. I love those words out his mouth. Almost as much as I love his hands on my body and the way his eyes devour me. Almost as much as I love him.

He kisses my lips and before I can repeat the same to him, he’s off the bed. “I’ve got to roll. The last Malt and Burger jacked up my hours in the system, and they want me to go into a local one and fix it.”

I sit up on the bed and bite the inside of my lip to keep from throwing a fit like a toddler. “How long?”

“An hour. Maybe longer.” Noah places one of the room keys on the dresser next to the television. “By the way, I want to take you out to dinner in Denver to celebrate. Someplace nice.”

“Celebrate what?”

“For when you blow those pretentious assholes away with your paintings.”

I smile, amazed by the roses, by his faith in me and by the fact that he’s absolutely fantastic. “Thanks.”

Noah gently pulls one of the curls. “Damn, baby, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

But I do want him to kiss me. Instead, I shove at his wall of a chest, and he winks at me before he grabs the keys to the car and walks out the door. The air conditioner kicks off, and I lean against the headboard, staring at Noah’s roses on the bedside table. I pick one up, inhale the sweet scent and wonder, when it comes to it , why I’m waiting.

Noah

Time sheets from two weeks ago hang on the overpinned bulletin board, and balls of wadded paper overflow from the trash. I’m not feeling that this Malt and Burger is organized. In the cramped back office, I reenter my time from last week then roll back my chair to give space for the manager to approve it.

“The guy at the store down south said you’re a great worker. That you’re fast and keep your grill clean.” The manager, Jim, according to his name tag, wears pants that are too long and not in the girl-catching way.

I nod at his statement. I’m good at what I do, but being a fry cook isn’t my die-hard aspiration for a career. My goal’s to be a man that Echo will be proud to walk down the street with. What I am now won’t be enough to keep her for life.

He leans over, and his tie hits the screen. “Want to take a few shifts here?”

“Not staying in Colorado Springs long enough. Thinking about heading to Vail. Any stores there?”

“Yeah. I know the manager there and could give him a call if you want.” Jim minimizes the screen.

Personal recs make getting in easier. “I need to check an email to see if Vail is an option.” I motion at the screen with my chin. “Mind if I use this?”

“Go ahead.”

One of his employees calls his name, and the two have a conversation at the door of his office. With a few clicks I’m into my personal email account, and my gut coils like a damn snake. Carrie sent the email.

I run my hand over my head then hover the cursor over her name. This could change everything.

Echo

There’s nothing like the rush of being chased by the great Noah Hutchins.