The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(61)

Lainey Taylor: Fastest person to ruin a good time. 1.2 milliseconds.

“I need some time to clear my head. We need to have a little space.” He pointed between us. “I think that it’d be best if you relinquish Bruce walking duties back to Jackson for a while.”

I sucked in a shaky breath and cut my gaze to the dog, who was belly up, snoring on his pillow. “Okay.” That news alone should have made my night. Bruce was nothing but a pesky, slobbery dog who ruined my clothes. And also had the cutest button nose, and did an awesome impression of a pig when he was happy. But what did this “space” and “time to clear his head” thing mean? I thought we were making a breakthrough, that I was really getting to know him, and yet I ended up pushing him away. My appetite suddenly vanished, the mac and cheese rolling around, threatening to make a repeat appearance.

There had to be a positive spin on this, right? Without dog walking duties, it freed up my evenings to…sit at home and watch TV and mope. Oh, man, I was worse off than I thought. My mom had been right. Work had taken over my life. I was wasting my early twenties in an office rather than indulging in bad choices. Yep, this totally sucked.

He blotted his face with his napkin and threw it down on the table. His chair groaned against the tile as he stood and adjusted his tie. “I need to get back to the office.”

“Right.” His schedule for the night was clear. I’d made sure of it before I left, because if tonight had gone well, I was planning on taking him up on his cookie-making offer.

Well, whatever I thought was obviously a moot point as of thirty seconds ago. “I should probably walk Bruce anyway. I’ll have him back in a little bit and then head home.”

He stared at me, his expression unreadable.

I always picked the most opportune times to babble. He’d made it clear the position we were in. Boss. Employee. Benefits currently terminated. Because even if he did want to start something, I couldn’t do it, good cooking or not.

A few tears tracked down my cheek.

He lifted his hand, like he might wipe my cheek, but then he swallowed hard and dropped it to his side. He grabbed his coat from the rack and walked out the door.

Bruce got up from his spot in the living room and padded over to my chair. He nuzzled my hand, and I scratched him behind the ears, his favorite spot. He let out the snorting noise and I smiled.

“At least someone enjoys my company.” My voice shook and pitched up at the end. I quickly cleared my throat and swallowed past the thick knot. Nope. Not going there. If Brogan could barricade his feelings behind a Berlin-size wall, so could I.

He licked my hand in response.

Another onslaught of tears pricked at my eyes, but I pushed them back. I would not cry over something that was so silly to begin with. No one knew Brogan, and I was deluding myself to think I could get close to him. It was much better this way. I could focus on my work and my mom. Shudders wracked me as I sat hunched over, rubbing my arms in an attempt to fight the chills overtaking my body. I glanced around the empty condo. Barren, skin-deep, a shallow shell. This was what Brogan chose, what I had hoped he’d change once we spent more time together. Tears streamed down my face, and I pulled Bruce closer, nuzzling into his fur. At least we ended things before he could break my heart.



Jackson shook Bruce’s leash, and the vein in his forehead throbbed double-time. “I can’t believe I’m stuck walking that damn dog again. He destroys everything good in this world.”

“He likes being scratched behind the ears when you first come in,” I said, quietly. Tears pricked my eyes the instant I’d tossed his leash on Jackson’s desk this morning.

“What?” he snapped.

“If you show him affection, he’s less likely to eat your clothes,” I offered. Although really, why would I want to stop Bruce from destroying the Italian loafers Jackson had been bragging about for the past three weeks?

“The only thing I’ll show him is the door if he ruins my new loafers.” Even I knew this was an empty threat, because Jackson would never do anything to purposefully piss off Brogan.

Both elbows were propped on my desk as I rested my chin in my hands, staring at my computer. I’d been reading the same email for twenty minutes.

To: Lainey Taylor

From: Brogan Starr

Subject: Leash

Please promptly return the leash and key to Jackson. He will take care of everything else. I expect files on the Anderson account on my desk first thing Monday morning.

Best,

Brogan Starr, CEO Starr Media

I’d pushed him too hard and lost him. But did I ever really have him to begin with?

I’d once had a membership to a purse website that rented out high-end bags for a great price. I’d gotten this cream Michael Kors bag that really was the mecca of all purses. When I’d mailed it back, I felt like a piece of myself had left with that bag. This was worse. So much worse, because purses didn’t give me butterflies or make me smile even if I was having a horrible day. They also didn’t look nearly as good in a towel.

Then again, how could I possibly be with someone I knew nothing about? The answer was simple: I couldn’t. So, it was time to put on my big girl panties and devise a plan to get Brogan off my mind for good.





Chapter Twenty-One


Lainey Taylor Rule of Life #17

A jealous boy can be a good thing.