Rules of Convenience

Chapter 1

1

MISTAKEN FOR A DOLPHIN

P lease make this end . Please make this end. Please make this end.

An annoying mantra in my head as I’m doing my best to look engaged and interested in what has to be the most boring conversation of my life for the last hour. This will be the third blind date Samantha Voss, my best friend since the third grade, has set me up on this year.

Each one… worse than the last.

How many times can I be expected to sit across from someone spouting mundane details of their life like it’s a job interview and have to pretend to enjoy it? I never understand why women aren’t just able to say, ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t feel like we have that spark. It was nice meeting you,’ when we both know it isn’t going to work.

No, we do what women are trained to do. We smile, feign interest, and act polite. It would be all too rude to end a date before the other party had a chance to plead their case a.k.a. sell themselves . It isn’t necessarily his fault. He’s attractive enough. He’s tall, has light brown hair and crystal blue eyes that a girl can get lost in—not me but some girl—and at least he dresses like he cares about what I think of his appearance upon meeting him. But there is just something about him that doesn’t make me truly care whether there’s a second date.

“So, what are your favorite hobbies?” My date asks, trying to engage me in this, until now, one sided conversation.

“Um,” I hesitate, trying to come up with something that makes me seem like I’m not overly obsessed with just my work or make me seem disinterested in the conversation. Which I clearly am . “I like to read whenever I can find time. How about you?” I ask in return.

A look crosses his face that has his eyebrows pinching together. A look I wear all too often. It’s disappointment. He probably just spent the last thirty minutes naming off all of his favorite hobbies while I was wishing to be anywhere but on this date. Without another thought, I come up with an excuse for a short reprieve.

“Sorry, I just need to use the restroom really quick. I’ll be right back.” I grab my phone and excuse myself to the ladies’ room without giving him so much as a smile as I get up to leave.

Amelia

Not going well. Need an exit strategy.

I text Sam while scurrying to find sanctuary in a bathroom stall for as long as I can without making things even more awkward. Looking down at my phone waiting for Sam’s response, I jolt back a step after running straight into what can only be described as a brick wall draped in clothing.

I mumble my apologies without looking up, too wrapped up anxiously waiting for a reply.

“I think the proper response after bulldozing another human being is to ask if they are alright,” the stranger responds to my rude intrusion to his personal space.

My attention immediately pulls from my phone and I glance at the man in front of me. I was fully prepared to let him have a piece of my mind about already giving him an apology but my words get caught in my throat when I look up to see who I had run into.

I was not expecting to see someone with features… so distracting.

It takes me a few seconds to stop analyzing said brick wall and to realize that it was incredibly rude of me to not even make eye contact as I apologized. I was raised with better manners than that.

“I’m sorry I was caught up in trying to make a hasty retreat from...” I stop myself from pointing towards my table and divulging to this complete stranger how awful my night has been going with a blind date I could’ve spent my whole life not wasting time on. So, I continue with a rather short apology instead. “Sorry. Are you alright?”

He smirks at my obvious uneasiness.

I see a hint of a dimple in his cheek and that almost makes me forget the need to breathe.

“I might wake up with a nasty bruise, but I think I’ll survive,” the stranger jokes, rubbing his chest where I ran into him. “You might want to walk with your eyes pointed in front of you to avoid any other catastrophes though,” he adds sarcastically. Still showing off that irritating dimple.

I don’t have any words to say back so I just nod and beeline to the bathroom. After the door shuts behind me, I take a look in the mirror at myself. My cheeks are flush from embarrassment at the interaction I just had with the man outside, which is a nice matching touch to the red satin dress that I decided to wear tonight.

What a waste.

I spent so much time picking out the perfect outfit, making sure my hair was pinned half way up just right, and shaved enough of my body to be mistaken for a dolphin if I were touched in the dark. Which obviously wouldn’t be happening tonight. All I wanted was the night to end so I could go home and curl up in a ball to read a good romance novel. I just needed a decent excuse to get out of the rest of the evening.

I straighten the straps on the dress. It hugs me in all the right places and outlines my sometimes too curvy hips, but it was one of the dresses that always made me feel confident.

This dress is too pretty to have worn tonight.

I run my fingers through my hair to remove any flyways and readjust the pins holding it up on one side. I did my best attempt at Hollywood curls tonight, but the humidity in the air just turned it into long waves down my back versus actual curls. It doesn’t matter, I’ll just toss it into a messy bun in about an hour anyway.

Sam

Not Again!!

Sam’s reply is coated in judgment. I know my friend just wanted me to give this guy a chance so she doesn’t have to worry about me being alone forever.

Sam

Fine. Give it another thirty minutes and I’ll call with a reason for you to leave.

Thirty Minutes .

I can make it through another half hour of idle chit chat. I’d rather climb through the nearest window though. Politeness be damned. But I am polite. And this man deserves more than a fleeing bandit on a first date. I take another brief look in the mirror, let out a lengthy sigh, straighten my spine, and make my way back to the table.

As I approach my date, I catch a glimpse of the stranger I ran into on my way to the bathroom. He’s sitting with another man at a booth in the corner of the restaurant with papers splayed out in front of them. He must sense my eyes on him because he looks up before I have a chance to look away. The dangerously handsome stranger lifts his glass to me with one hand in acknowledgment and rubs his bruised chest with the other. This should’ve annoyed me, but I can’t help the instant butterflies forming in the pit of my stomach. I look away to find my date patiently waiting for my return.

“I ordered you another glass of wine while you were in the bathroom,” my date says, pushing the new glass towards me as I sit back down.

He really is a gentleman, but another glass means even more time sitting here. There isn’t anything particularly wrong with the man; he seems genuinely interested in what I have to say, he seems passionate in what he talks about, and he was kind enough to make sure I didn’t have to wait for a refill which showed maybe he cared about the little stuff that often gets overlooked on dates. There is just something… boring about him.

Would I have to pretend to be engaged in meaningless conversation if there was a second date? Would I have to pretend to laugh at his jokes even though I haven’t found a single thing he said funny so far tonight? I didn’t want to pretend, it’s exhausting. I just needed another thirty minutes of him telling me things about himself that wouldn’t matter once that timer Sam set went off.

Ten minutes.

Twenty minutes.

When is Sam going to save me? I plead to myself.

Twenty-three minutes

The check arrives.

Twenty-Six minutes

My date signs the check and begins to stand.

Eureka!

I want to kick my chair back with enthusiasm that the date is over and my home is the next stop on the agenda. I’m saved by perfect timing before the need for my getaway plan is even enacted. However, I should try to show an ounce of decorum to my date so I stand up like a lady as he pulls out my chair.

I slightly cringe as he helps me into my jacket. I guess chivalry isn’t dead, but I’m used to being alone and doing things myself. It feels unnatural to have someone helping me with something as trivial as getting dressed.

“Amelia, would you care to join me for another drink at a bar down the street? I know a really cool spot not far from here.” My date asks me with a tinge of hope in his voice.

Damn it.

“Oh, that’s really kind of you…” I begin to reply before a familiar voice cuts me off.

“Amelia? Is that you?”

I look up to see the stranger from the bathroom. Hazel eyes, pools of liquid gold, bearing down on me as if to say play along .

“I knew that was you. I was just finishing dinner with a business associate,” he turns around hooking a thumb towards the seat he just vacated, “and thought I saw you,” he continues. The stranger from the bathroom turned towards my date, “Hi. Incredibly rude to interrupt. I saw you guys were finishing up as well, and didn’t want to miss my chance to say hi. Amelia and my family go way back and I haven’t had a chance to see her since I returned home to Charlotte.” He offers his hand. “I’m Riley Anderson.”

My date shakes his hand. “Matt Summers, it’s nice to meet you.” Matt looks at me, waiting for an answer to the invite he just extended.

As if this savior of a man can sense that I needed an out, he offers his own invitation. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you mind if I stole Amelia for a drink? You know, to catch up on how our families have been since I’ve been gone.”

I can not believe what is happening. I went from pleading to get out of this date so I could stop pretending I was having a good time to pretending I know this other stranger to get out of my current situation. Not sure what will give me more of a headache; the wine I was drinking or the web of lies I’m trying to keep straight.

Like the gentleman this guy has been all evening, he doesn’t even hesitate, “of course, it’s up to Amelia. We can take a rain check on drinks another time?” He finishes with a lilt to his voice, optimism coating his words.

“Yes of course. Rain check would be great.” I lie.

With that, he kisses my cheek, thanks me for a lovely evening, and offers his farewells to the two of us and walks out of the restaurant.

Thirty minutes and like clockwork, my phone starts to ring. I look down and sure enough… Sam. Right on time . I debate on answering it. I look up to the guy standing in front of me as he raises an eyebrow at my buzzing phone .

“You gonna answer that fake emergency or was I enough of an escape plan?” he says with a cocky smirk.

Annoyed, I swipe the answer button and lift the phone to my ear.

“Hey Sam, your rescue attempt is not needed. The date just ended. I’ll explain later. No, it’s fine. I’m actually just going to go home. I’m exhausted, so I’ll see you tomorrow, ok? Love you too. Bye.” I hang up and glance back up at the man that just rescued me from the confinements of another excruciating hour of small talk.

“Thanks for that.” I pause at how to continue without offending him. “Not to sound ungrateful, but should I find it kind of creepy that you felt you had to intervene or by the fact that you know my name without ever being introduced?” I ask curiously with an awkward smile.

“Well, one, you’re welcome,” he says sarcastically. “Two, you looked like you’d rather sit in a crate full of spiders before you’d sit through anymore of that evening.” Couldn’t disagree there. “And three, he said your name when he asked you out for drinks as I was walking by.”

I can’t blame the guy for thinking that. I am usually pretty good at putting on a pleasant mask during shitty situations but after an hour…the act gets tiring. I can only imagine how prominent my frown lines were becoming during the course of dinner.

“Well, thank you again, then.” I reply.

I lift my phone again and open the ride sharing app to call for a car to take me home. He must notice what app I am opening because he places his hand over my screen blocking me from continuing with the request, “have a drink with me.”

“I just got out of drinks with one stranger. What makes you think I have the energy to make small talk with another?”

“You bruised my chest tonight. Are you so ruthless as to also bruise my ego?” He makes a show of being insulted while showing off that annoying little dimple. I roll my eyes at him knowing that it would probably take a lot more than one rejection to bruise the ego of a man like him. He leans down to speak in my ear, “and I don’t recall asking.”

Well damn.

I’d be lying if I said his assertiveness isn’t making me throw caution to the wind. So naturally, I find myself, against my better judgment, agreeing. “One drink,” I hold up my pointer finger emphasizing the one .

He gives me a satisfied nod and helps remove my jacket. Laying his hand on the small of my back, he guides me to the leather stools lining the bar. The innocent gesture, that would normally annoy me, sends a chill up my spine. I glance over my shoulder at him and the only thought that races through my mind is how curious I am to know if the rest of my body would have the same reaction to his touch.

That single thought is enough to mentally slap me back to reality. Has it been so long since I’ve been touched that this innocent interaction could have my mind going in all the wrong directions? I can’t help it though. He literally oozes sex appeal in the way he carries himself. He’s beautiful and he knows how to embrace it.

And I can't stop myself from noticing every detail about him.

He’s wearing black slacks that look like each thread was created for his body with the sole purpose of accentuating his muscular thighs. A dusty blue dress shirt tucked into his pants, hugs every contour of his lean torso and the sleeves are casually rolled up, showcasing vascular arms. Everything about his outfit choice was chosen so that it compliments the color of his piercing hazel eyes.

Eyes that I could totally get lost in with the way the shimmering accents seem to spread towards the outside of his irises. A mesmerizing combination of green and gold compared to the brown I was born with. I suck in my bottom lip between my teeth trying to keep my tongue from lolling out like a looney toons character.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman, but you’re making that difficult by looking at me and biting your lip like that.” He says it in such a whisper that if I weren’t right next to him, I would’ve missed it. The absolute boldness of his comment makes my eyes widen in surprise. And turn my insides into molten lava. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud. I release my lip and turn around, continuing towards the bar.

“That might have been the most forward thing I have ever heard, especially from someone I don’t even know.” I fire back with awkward laughter.

What is wrong with me? I don’t normally react this way, especially not over a guy.

He places his free hand over his heart and with an exaggerated gasp like his feelings were hurt says, “you know me. We met back there,” he hooks a thumb over his shoulder towards the table we just stepped away from. “I’m Riley… Remember?” He chuckles. “Unless you’re suffering from an episode of amnesia. In that case, I’m whoever you want me to be.”

So, the man has a sense of humor. Shocker, as if he wasn’t attractive enough.

“Sarcasm. Nice to see the world’s not dead.” I smile against my will.

The restaurant isn’t busy tonight so taking two seats at the bar still leaves us with enough privacy to talk. I order the same red wine I had at dinner and he orders a Macallan, neat.

Hmm, and the guy’s also got taste. He’d fit right in with my father.

“What do you do, Amelia?” Riley asks, turning in his stool to face me. The same leading question my date asked at the beginning of the night which should’ve made me roll my eyes at the cliche icebreaker but this time, instead of being annoyed…I feel inclined to answer for some reason.

“Project Manager at a Tech Firm based here in the city.” I answer, swishing the wine around in my glass.

“Ah, so you’re a control freak,” he says accusingly.

I want to deny that claim, be offended at it, but can I really when it’s the truth? Of course, I like to be in control. It gives me a sense of order in my life. Chaos and disarray have no place in my plans. “Ok, maybe,” I admit, guiltily. “So, what? I’m good at what I do. I’ve worked extremely hard to get to where I am. Unfortunately, women have to work twice as hard as men to prove we deserve to be where we are. Flying by the seat of our pants just doesn’t really go hand in hand with that.” I add defensively.

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?”

“Do what?” I ask, confused.

“Defend yourself. Control isn’t necessarily a bad thing and I didn’t say that it was. It might make you a bit exhausted if you feel the need to always have everything perfect or that you have something to prove, but if you have the energy to keep up with the demand of it, who has the right to tell you to change?” he replies with sincerity.

I let his words sink in. The absolute acceptance of what I said. Too many times people are so quick to give unsolicited advice of ‘you should really relax’ or ‘take a chill pill’ or ‘it’s not that serious’ as if the condescension of their words blows right over their head. It’s a breath of fresh air for someone to just listen without trying to fix you. I let my shoulders relax a bit and realize I want to know more about who this stranger is.

“What do you do, Riley, that allows you to have such an insight on others?” I ask with exaggerated praise.

“Lawyer,” he says flatly like it’s just any ole job and not a highly coveted one.

“Ah, so you like to argue.”

Riley lets out a laugh at my mockery of his words from earlier. “Touché, Amelia. Touché.” Lifting his glass and touching it to mine in admiration of my wittiness, he takes a sip of his drink, shrugs and continues, “I like getting my way. And I like to win.” He looks at me with a cocky smile.

I instinctively want to lean into him. Curious to know what he would taste like with a hint of whisky lingering on his lips. I unconsciously bite down on mine and then I notice his gaze dropping down to my mouth. I break away and give my attention back to the glass of wine.

Get a grip over yourself.

This damn wine.

That’s what I will blame my lack of inhibitions on tonight. I need to get out of here before I do something I regret. I think of my original plans of curling up with a good book, which sounds rather dull compared to sitting next to Riley, but it’s one I wouldn’t regret in the morning.

I need to find a reason to leave before the wine gets the better of my decisions. Glancing at my phone and seeing the time. Ten Thirty PM. “It’s actually getting a bit late and I have work early tomorrow. I should probably go.” I say and push the remainder of my wine away from me.

Without hesitation, Riley throws back his glass and finishes the last few sips of his drink. “Sure, let me at least see to it that you get home safely,” he offers.

“What makes you think I would want some stranger knowing where I live?”

“Well, fair. But, unfortunately, my grandmother would roll over in her grave and have my head knowing I rescued a woman from one disaster this evening only to let her fend for herself getting home to safety.”

I let out a small chuckle at his theatrics. “You didn’t rescue me. You got me out of dreadful drinks. As grateful as I am for that, let’s not pretend you just pulled me out of oncoming traffic.”

“I would say that I saved you but… semantics,” he shrugs his shoulders. “Either way, I can either see you to your home or you can take my number and text me when you get there safely.”

I can’t help but smile at his charm. I know the rational thing to do would be to take his number with the false promise that I will let him know when I get home but something about him piques my curiosity. What would be the harm in letting him walk me home? I live in a building with twenty-four seven security. I don’t have to let him upstairs to know which unit I live in. That way I have an excuse to spend a little more time with him.

“Fine. I’ll let you see me home. On one condition.”

He arches an eyebrow waiting to hear my ultimatum. “Consider me intrigued.”

“We walk there because if I get into a moving vehicle right now with the amount of wine I’ve had tonight, it very well might all come back up.”

“While I don’t like the idea of you getting sick on my watch, you’re going to have to give me a distance to go off of here so I know what I am agreeing to.”

I giggle. “Always the lawyer I see. Need all the facts outlined without leaving room for any misinterpretation, but fine… it’s only about five blocks from here. I think you’ll manage if I can.” I lift my leg to show him the four-inch stiletto heels I have to make the trek in.

If I can do it, so can he.

He lowers his sight down the length of my exposed leg to the strappy heels I’m wearing and I can see the way his throat bobs in response, swallowing whatever it is that he wants to say. The thought of that sends those uncontrollable chills back up my spine. His gaze travels upwards to make eye contact with me. Causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin.

Without another word, Riley gets off his stool and gives me his hand to guide me down from my seat. He tries to help me with my jacket before I slide it over my shoulders myself but I move a little too quickly for him. When the sash of my jacket is tied, he bends at the hips with the most dramatic bow and extension of his arm towards the door.

“Lead the way, Princess.”