The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(40)

I packed up my laptop and brushed past him, and as soon as I crossed the threshold into the main office, I let it go. No good could come from holding a grudge. As my mom always said, While you’re carrying a grudge, the other guy’s out dancing. Jackson was doing the frickin’ Mambo Number Five, and I wasn’t going to spend another minute sulking. Time to come up with a plan.





Chapter Fourteen


Lainey Taylor Rule of Life #98

Cookies do solve all problems.

Brogan was sitting on the couch, his feet propped on the coffee table, when I brought Bruce back from his walk on Wednesday. It had been two days since the infamous Meeting of Betrayal and I’d had time to cool down.

“I thought you had a meeting until nine?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled and continued to sift through the paperwork spread across the cushions.

“That good, huh?”

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch, his arms behind his head for support. The fabric of his shirt stretched over his chest, and for a split second my breath hitched. Even when he wasn’t trying, it was like his body pulled me under a spell. A brain power outage spell. “Worse,” he said. “So, so much worse,” he muttered to himself.

This made me pause. Over the past two months, he’d never shown this side, one that I was only privy to because I was in his personal sanctuary.

Brogan never broke a sweat at the office, always happy, joking around, the life of the party. But seeing him so vulnerable in his home, where he didn’t need to put on an act, made me realize how much I didn’t know about him. How he seemed so perfect at work, but it was all just for show.

Even Superman had his kryptonite.

“You know what makes it better?” Whenever I had a bad day at school, Mom and I would bake together. Sometimes it would be cookies, other times elaborate cakes. Somehow she was able to get my mind off whatever had bummed me out that day. With as many bad days I had in middle and high school, I was shocked I wasn’t diagnosed with childhood diabetes, or at the very least hadn’t ended up the size of a humpback whale. Thank you, Taylor genetics.

“A new job?” he deadpanned.

I rolled my eyes. “Right, because this company isn’t your baby or anything.”

“A parent needs a break from his kid every once in a while,” he grunted, but his tone held a little less irritation than a minute ago. He didn’t bother opening his eyes. “What’s your proposition to make this shitty day better?”

“Cookies.”

“Cookies?” He repeated it like I’d just told him the answer to the question of life was three. This man was a poor, deprived individual if he didn’t indulge in my one—okay, one of many vices.

“You know, the magical food not made with prunes or anything remotely healthy, but tastes amazing?”

He blinked slowly, his long eyelashes fanning over his face. “I know what a damn cookie is, Taylor. I just don’t see how it’s going to solve my problems with this possible merger.”

“You obviously haven’t had my world famous chocolate chip.”

“World famous? What makes these cookies stand out from the rest?” He shot a skeptical look in my direction.

“I have a few secret ingredients. But it’s the unicorn tears that really push it over the edge.” When he didn’t look convinced, I added, “C’mon. how can you pass up ooey-gooey chocolate chips nestled in an array of ingredients that will blow your goddamn mind?”

“You’re really building yourself up, Taylor. But damn…” He groaned, and the sound vibrated deep in my chest. “Cookies do sound kind of good.”

“Well, boss. I think we could both use some. You have chocolate chips, flour, butter, baking soda, eggs, and sugar?”

He nodded. “Think so.”

“Good. Prepare to be wowed.”

I could have sworn that I’d heard him mumble “I already am,” but decided that it was my imagination and the overflow of emotions swirling around in my head at the moment. I had to hand it to Brogan, he’d succeeded at taking my mind off the fact that I’d been screwed over by my coworker and my relationship with my mom was strained for the first time in years. It was much easier to focus on the mundane task of measuring and mixing. And eating. Always eating. Because when I was stuffing my face, I couldn’t possibly say anything stupid.

A few minutes later, all the ingredients for the cookies were laid out across the granite countertops, along with a red KitchenAid mixer. For someone who consistently spent more time in his office than at home, he kept his kitchen well-stocked.

Once the wet and dry ingredients were mixed together, I began balling up cookie dough and placing it on a baking sheet. Scoop. Roll. Smash. Scoop. Roll. Smash. Three very easy tasks that took all my focus. By the time I lined up enough to cover an entire sheet, the worries of today seemed to fade to background noise. It was a long way away, but I couldn’t wait until I had a kid of my own to share this tradition with.

Brogan joined me at the counter, the evidence of a long day etched into his face.

“Have you had a chance to watch any of the other movies I recommended?” I asked, trying to get his mind off whatever was bugging him from work.

He drummed his fingers along the granite countertop. “No, but they’re queued up on my Netflix account.”