Page 15 of Breaking All The Rules
“Um…” She tried really hard to think of something outrageous. “I’d like to do something reckless in my car, like burn rubber or compete in a drag race?” Her father considered it the height of irresponsibility to drive recklessly. Which, for him, meant going any more than five miles over the speed limit.
“Yup.” He ate more pancake, then chewed and swallowed it before he continued. “There’s a couple there. Reckless driving. Number two sixty-two. And public nuisance, number four one nine slash ten.” His tongue flicked out to remove the shine of maple syrup from his lips. “What else? Feel free to really test my knowledge of local and county statutes here.”
Bea toyed with the idea of saying rob a bank just to see what Officer Syrup Lips would say to that. But essentially, she was coming up blank, because she’d spent thirty-five years being a law-abiding citizen—and less than twenty-four hours as the opposite. “It’s not necessarily about breaking the law,” she clarified. “It’s about breaking the…strictures of my life.”
Put on her by her father and her grandmother and every damn boss she’d ever had.
“Okay…like?”
“Like…” Bea flailed around mentally for a moment or two. “Sleep in. Drink beer for breakfast.” She realized those probably sounded pathetic. Plus, she’d already done that quite a lot these past two weeks. “Ride a horse.” They had to have horses around here somewhere, right?
Her best friend in high school had a horse, but Bea had been expressly forbidden to ride it because apparently smelling horsey wasn’t ladylike.
“Dye my hair.” Charlie Hammersmith had intimated that women in advertising were far too distracting to the men in the room, so it was important to be inconspicuous.
Attractive, of course, but not flashy or showy.
She rooted around inside her head for something else. “Shoot a three-pointer.” That was better, considering Bea had never played basketball in her life. “And…line dance.”
God, her grandmother would be horrified by a line-dancing Beatrice. The only form of dance she rated was the ballet. And only if it was at Carnegie Hall.
“Line dance?”
He’d said it exactly the way her grandmother would have, like it was some kind of abomination that should be outlawed.
“Yes.”
She sat a little taller in her chair. Why not? She was far too old to learn ballet, and if beer for breakfast and Annie’s pie became a regular thing—from her brain to God’s ears—she’d need to do some form of exercise. It was probably a hell of a lot easier than a three-pointer, too. “Also, sleep under the stars.” Camping had been considered low-class by her grandmother. Another thought popped into her head. “Get a fondue set.”
God, cheese. Gooey, melty cheese. Her mouth watered just thinking about it. But she’d denied herself the pleasure of cheese since Charlie freaking Hammersmith had informed her at a work function, just after she’d been promoted to junior executive, that the firm had a certain image to project, as he looked pointedly at the third portion of deep-fried Camembert she’d snagged from a circulating platter.
So she had to be attractive—but not distracting. And God forbid she even be the teeniest bit fat.
Austin, who clearly thought she was getting significantly less badass, shot her a pitying look. “What else?”
Bea thought hard. “Get a cat. Something cute and sweet and adorable.”
“You had a rule against getting a cat?”
Stabbing a glare in his direction, she said, “I was never home to either look after or give proper attention to an animal.”
“Okay.”
His tone suggested this item was probably the most pitiable of them all and, goaded by that and by the way he licked his lips—again—she blurted out what was really on her mind. “Have a lot of orgasms.”
It occurred to Bea that this might not come across as cool and edgy but, rather, a little TMI. And, well…sad. It shouldn’t be a surprise, given she’d told him about her lack of satisfaction yesterday, and reiterating it today was probably bordering on desperate, but hell, she was desperate. Not that he seemed to be judging. In fact, he seemed to be very much enjoying it, a smile quirking his lips to one side.
“Lucky you. No town ordinances against that.”
Ha! There was the way she was planning on having them. “They’ll be very loud.” And because she felt it needed further clarification, she added, “And with outrageously unsuitable men.”
“What does outrageously unsuitable mean, exactly?”
Someone like you.
Except, yeah, she wasn’t going to say that. “Someone who doesn’t know the meaning of brand awareness.”
He laughed. “That’s who you deem as unsuitable?”
