Six Rules: Book Two in the SIX Series (8 page)

Chapter 10

          
“What is this place?” I asked as he pulled into a parking
lot in front of a dark building. Greyson faced his truck directly at the
building so that his headlights illuminated it. The inside looked vacant, but I
could see some shelving units and some counter space inside.

          
“My dream,” he said, shutting off the engine. “I’m going
to buy it. Eventually.” He looked over at me, beaming. “Instead of cooking out
of my condo or in my mom’s diner, this will be my kitchen.”

          
“It’s so big,” I said, glancing through the streams of
light from his headlights. It looked at least twice as big as my bakery
storefront, though I couldn’t tell how far the space went back.

          
“Well, I thought I could put some glass cases in the front
there,” he said pointing into the darkness at one side of the large picture
window. “Maybe I could rent out some space to a baker so I could offer desserts,”
he said with a smirk.

          
“Oh no. No way,” I said shaking my head. “Is that why I’m
here? Is that what this relationship contract is about? You really just want to
expand your business?” Suddenly I felt as though maybe Greyson wasn’t being as
honest with me as I thought. Did he have other intentions?

          
“No Mal, that’s not what I’m getting at,” he said
defensively.

          
“So you want to compete with me then?” I said, still a
little angry and annoyed by this conversation. “Because I can tell you right
now this isn’t going to be an amicable relationship if you’re trying to market
yourself against me.”

          
“Mallory, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant at all. I’m
just saying it’s a big space. That’s all I meant. I mean, if things work out
between us,” he began.

          
“If things work out? I just spent three hours meeting your
entire family all because it was some ‘rule’ you came up with on a napkin that
I couldn’t say no to. I understand this isn’t exactly a conventional
relationship based on passion and romance, but I think we definitely need to
separate whatever this is from business.”

          
Greyson interrupted me. “Look, I’m sorry it all came out
like that. That’s not what I meant.” He shook his head and looked like he was
trying to gather his thoughts. “This isn’t even my space, it’s just something
that I really want. Something that I’m hoping for. I really like you Mallory,
and I just wanted to share this place with you tonight because it means
something to me, that’s all. I kind of view this relationship the same way I think
of this building; I know it’s something I really want, but I have no idea
whether or not it will work out because I don’t get to decide everything.” He
stared into my eyes and he looked so vulnerable to me in that moment.

          
“How can you be sure you want this? Me? What makes you
think I’m the girl who can fit into your life?”

          
“Because you’re not what I expected,” he said softly.

          
“What does that even mean?” I asked curiously.

          
“Well, I just always thought I would find someone who
really ‘got’ me, you know? Someone who understood my passion for my business,
someone who challenges me. You really get under my skin. You have since the
first day I met you when you bossed me around and insulted my Italian
heritage,” he said smirking. “You’re so calculated and safe and prepared for
everything, but you need to get outside of your own head.”

          
“I can’t even decipher if that’s a compliment or not,” I
said with a raised brow.

          
“It is,” he said sincerely, still staring directly at me.
His lips curled up into a smile and I hated how attractive he was in the exact
moments I questioned whether or not I could tolerate him.

          
“Well that’s my problem. I am safe and prepared and I have
everything planned out. But then you came along with your business and your
rules and well, I just didn’t expect you,” I responded, trying to explain how
much his presence rattled me.

          
“The best things in this world are unexpected, Mal.”

          
“Yeah, like tsunamis and earthquakes and serial killers
and large swarms of bees?” I said randomly, just throwing words out of my head.
“I just don’t want to get burned when I see a fire coming, that’s all I’m
saying. Because then it’s my fault, and I hate that.”

          
“That’s what I mean about you needing to get out of your
own head. Just trust me, Mal. I promise you I will not disappoint you,” he
said, leaning over to kiss me. His lips were warm against mine, and despite how
crazy he made me feel, I finally realized it was a good kind of crazy.

          
I pulled my lips away from his and moved my body closer to
him, resting my head on his shoulder. He stroked my hair, and I imagined for a
moment this was a normal relationship.

          
“What’s your favorite thing to cook?” I asked.

          
“Breakfast,” he said smiling down on me. “But for work, I
don’t know that I could pick a favorite. I love every kind of pasta. I love
recipes with bacon. I love mixing different sauces together to make new flavors
people wouldn’t expect. I like trying something for the first time, so anytime
I make a new recipe I think it will be my best invention. What about you?
What’s your favorite thing to bake? Carrot cake probably?”

          
“Actually, I prefer other people’s carrot cake. I know
that seems weird. But it’s kind of like scratching your own back, it’s never as
good as someone else doing it. I think I like cupcakes the best. They’re so
small and easy and perfect. Four year olds love them, eighty year olds love
them. I like their simplicity. Maybe I’m a girl who likes knowing what I’ll
get,” I said, staring out into the building still illuminated in front of us.

          
“Well then I won’t try to fix you,” he said with a smirk,
referring to one of my rules. He kissed the top of my head and turned his keys
in the ignition.

          
He drove me back to my apartment and we made small talk
about his family. As we pulled into my apartment lot, I unfastened my seatbelt.

          
“I’m sure you have a busy week, but can we pick a day to
hang out? The whole day?” he asked sincerely.

          
“Oh yes, one of your rules. We have to have an ‘us’ day,”
I replied.

          
How did I go from being so in love with Dillon to being
called unlovable to scheduling an ‘us’ day with a guy who still seemed like a
stranger in a week’s time?

          
“I can move some things around and we can do either
Tuesday or Wednesday if that works for you,” I suggested.

          
“Let’s do it Tuesday then. I don’t want to wait the extra
day,” he said with a mischievous smirk.

          
“Don’t you have to check your schedule or something?” I
asked.

          
“I make my own schedule,” he responded, sliding closer to
me. He brushed a section of my hair back from my face and stared into my eyes.
I loved moments like these. Usually he seemed so confident, so eager to make
something out of whatever this relationship was. Then he sporadically had
moments like this where it felt like he was so vulnerable, as if he was waiting
for me to tell him what to do. I kissed him gently.

          
“I have a pretty early morning tomorrow. I know I keep
going back and forth on that, but I really do need to be in the bakery by six
a.m. I’m going to head in,” I said, softly kissing him one more time.

          
“I’ll walk you to your door then,” he said, reaching to
unlock his seatbelt.

          
“Don’t worry about it, please. The steps are right there.
Walking to the door after a date is the worst,” I said smirking.

          
“What? I thought women loved the walk to the door,” he
responded with a raised eyebrow.

          
“No way, it kills me. Too many feelings. With every
footstep your mind is racing, expectations are flying. It’s never been my
forte,” I said honestly.

          
“Right, got it. No feelings or expectations. I can see how
that would be a terrible thing for a budding romance,” he said sarcastically. I
playfully slapped his arm.

          
“Look, I’ll probably have to work until at least six or
seven tomorrow night. I have a pretty busy day. But do you want to grab a late
dinner?” I asked.

          
“Only if you’ll walk me to my door afterwards,” he
responded teasingly.

          
“Fair enough,” I said smiling. “I’ll call you when I’m
done at the bakery.” I opened the truck door and began to climb out.

          
“Mallory,” he said stopping me. He leaned over and pressed
his lips to mine, firmly, passionately. He ran his fingers through my hair. “I
hope your mind races anyway while I watch you walk up the steps.” He flashed a
boyish smile at me and I couldn’t help but grin back.

          
This guy was like quicksand, pulling me in. The trouble
was, I wasn’t sure I wanted out.

Chapter 11

          
I woke up around five-thirty and took a quick shower. As I
headed out the door a little before six, I noticed a small piece of paper taped
to the outside of my door.

          
Looking forward to dinner tonight. Bring your ugly cat
figurine.

          
I smiled, genuinely grateful that Greyson was a good
listener and remembered that I loved sweet little notes like this. We didn’t
physically exchange our napkins with our rules written down, so I was happy he
apparently remembered them on his own. I headed down to the bakery and Addie
arrived a few minutes later as I started pulling out all of the equipment.

          
On Mondays and Fridays we opened the bakery earlier than
usual, hoping to get some of the before-work crowd stopping in for some
Danishes and coffee. Traffic was still pretty light, but I hoped by Fall we
would be busy enough to open early every weekday. I loved working so early in
the morning. That’s when my head felt the clearest and I felt the most
productive.

          
“So, how’d it go with your bossy boyfriend last night?”
Addie asked inquisitively. “You met the family, right? Were they normal?
Crazy?”

          
“It actually went pretty well,” I said honestly. “He’s
actually starting to grow on me. Maybe this is like, a real thing.”

          
“What exactly does that mean?” Addie asked, pulling out
pastries we made the day before and filling up the glass bakery cases.

          
“Well, relationships are a lot of work for me. You know
that. Trying to get the business up and running and everything, it’s just hard
for me to focus on someone else. Dillon made that clear. But Greyson, I don’t
know. He’s just different. I think we’re similar in a lot of ways, so I think
he’s the first guy to really make an effort to let me do this my way. He’s very
structured in a way, so that seems to work for me. He seems to care about how
I
want this to go, if that’s makes sense,” I said, trying to explain. “I don’t
know, maybe it’s a little weird. But I have a ‘get out of jail card’ if I
change my mind, so that at least makes it all less scary to jump into, right?”

          
“Yeah, but how is that really going to go? I mean, if only
one of you shows up to the restaurant in three weeks, isn’t that more heart
wrenching and pathetic than just a normal ‘you’re unlovable’ break-up? I mean
do you really think you can just order a chicken burrito, eat it alone, and be
over it?” Addie made a good point.

          
“What makes you think it won’t be the other way around?” I
remarked, sounding a little too cavalier.

          
“I know you, Mallory. You’re either committed to something
or you’re not,” Addie replied. “You’ll know before three weeks is up as to how
all of this is going to turn out.”

          
“We’ll see,” I answered. Addie was right, usually I was
sure how things would turn out. But with Greyson, I really had no idea.

          
The morning was busy for a Monday, and we had to make
quite a few more batches of cinnamon rolls. Those were always a best seller.
After the morning crowd died down we focused on some of the party orders and
events we had coming up that week. I explained to Addie that I wouldn’t be in
the following day since I had plans with Greyson, which she was shocked by. I
guess me giving up an entire day of work just to hang out with a guy was a
little out of character for me. Addie promised to cover everything for the day
though, so I knew it wouldn’t be a big deal.

          
We finally wrapped up the day around six-thirty. I called
Greyson as I headed upstairs to my apartment.

          
“So, are we still on for dinner tonight?” I asked as soon
as he answered the phone.

          
“What do you have in mind?” he asked.

          
“How about you pick me up at seven-thirty? We can have
burgers overlooking the water at Mack’s Tavern,” I said, sifting through my
closet for something to wear.

          
“A real man would never turn down a Mack burger. Sounds
perfect. I’ll see you in an hour. Oh, and bring a swimsuit and a change of
clothes,” he added.

          
“It’s way too late tonight for a swim,” I responded.

          
“It’s not for tonight, it’s for tomorrow. Unless you think
you’re borrowing my clothes,” he said mockingly.

          
“What makes you think I’m staying the night tonight? The
date hasn’t even started,” I retorted.

          
“You promised you would walk me to my door tonight,
remember? I know how that will end. All those feelings,” he said, still mocking
my conversation from the night before. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

          
I picked out a striped cotton summer dress to wear and
curled my hair. I threw on some strappy sandals to keep it casual and grabbed a
small purse. I remembered that I also needed clothes and a swim suit for the
following day. I packed a small bag, feeling a little weird that my stay at his
condo tonight was already planned. Granted, this wouldn’t be the first time I
stayed there, given I went home with him the other night after the bar. What a
terrible decision that was for a first impression. He definitely handled it
well though, which was a little surprising to me. But this seemed different,
planning ahead of time to stay there. I wasn’t sure if that made the whole
thing seem more or less trampy, although I guess it didn’t matter at this point
anyway.

          
About seven twenty-five, there was a soft knock on my
door.

          
“You’re early,” I said as I opened the door. He wore dark
jeans, leather flip flops, and a white button down shirt. His blonde hair was
perfectly shaped in a messy spiky fashion and his eyes looked even bluer than
usual.

          
“Sorry, I couldn’t wait any longer,” he said, giving me a
swift kiss on my cheek. “You look amazing.”

          
“You don’t look terrible. I mean, you do too. I mean, you
look nice,” I stammered, trying to get my words right. I felt flustered for
some reason, as if I was nervous for the date.

          
We walked down the steps from my apartment door and
Greyson pointed to the front of my car.

          
“What happened there?” he asked, noticing the damage to my
bumper.

          
“Oh, that was awhile ago. Just a little mishap while
making a delivery,” I lied. There was no way I could tell him about rear-ending
someone while trying to see whether or not he was waiting for me in the
restaurant after we first met. Sure, this guy was growing on me. But he still
seemed a little cocky, so I wasn’t sure he needed to know I had driven by that
night. I just wanted to pretend like the whole thing had never happened.

          
We climbed into his truck and drove to Mack’s Tavern. It
was a large log cabin overlooking Lake Tahoe. The skies were clear and it was a
beautiful evening to sit outside and eat.

          
“So I picked up a big catering job today,” Greyson said as
we sat down at our table. “It’s a wedding for a couple hundred people. It’s
coming up this weekend, actually.”

          
“Wow, that’s impressive. But they just booked you now,
less than a week before their reception? That doesn’t seem normal.”

          
“Well, the other place they had booked fell through at the
last minute. Apparently the owner had a heart attack or a stroke or something
yesterday,” he responded. We ordered drinks and browsed the menu. “I am so
elated. I mean not about the heart attack, that’s terrible. But I haven’t done
a lot of weddings yet, so it’s good from a business standpoint.”

          
“What are you making?” I mused.

          
“Chicken parm, a few pasta sides, some salmon. I actually
messed around with a few recipes today, so we’ll see what I come up with. They
gave me full reign on what I wanted to do, so that helps. It was going to be a
buffet style dinner anyway, so that makes it easier on me since people aren’t
already expecting a certain dish they rsvp’d for. The couple is really easy
going and they told me I could make anything I wanted. Those are my kind of
customers,” he said with a smirk. “The down side is I’ll have to cook what I
can prep ahead of time at my mom’s diner, since I obviously don’t have the
space in my condo for an order that big. So I’ll have to be gone for a few
days,” he said, eyeing me curiously.

          
“You really have to go all the way to your mom’s to make
all the food? There isn’t a closer place to use?”

          
“Not that I know of. Not until I buy that place on Dixon
Drive,” he replied, referring to the building he took me to last night. “There
is a really nice kitchen at the reception hall, but I can’t get in there until
the morning of the event. So I’ll have to get as much prepped as I can before
then. All the sauces and whatnot. The great thing about using the diner is that
it closes at two in the afternoon, so I have the rest of the day and plenty of
time at night to use it.”

          
I was surprised he had such a successful business so far
without having an actual kitchen of his own to work from. I knew the appliances
in his condo were high-grade and the place was immaculate, so I’m sure it
passed a health inspection and it worked well enough for a lot of his smaller
jobs.

          
“So what do you get here?” Greyson asked, changing the
subject. “It’s the same order every time, right?”

          
“Yes, don’t judge me. I like consistency. The teriyaki
pineapple burger is as good as it gets, so I see no need to experiment,” I
replied.

          
“In that case, I’ll get the slider flight. Four different
burgers. That way you have to try them all,” he said, staring back at me.

          
“You’re really killing my predictable streak. I hope
they’re all disgusting,” I said playfully.

          
We placed our orders and had smooth, casual conversation
throughout dinner. I was surprised how little he argued with me when I paid the
check. That seemed like good progress. It was a little after nine when we got
up from our outdoor table to leave the restaurant. As we made our way to the
entrance, I heard a familiar voice.

          
“Mallory?”

          
Shit.
It was Dillon.