Page 6 of Rules

The shop's been dark for hours, just the lights in the back office and the soft glow of my desk lamp illuminating the stacks of receipts, invoices, and credit card statements. Only one more month to input and I'll finally be caught up. Running a small business means wearing all the hats - florist, designer, therapist for mothers and mothers-in-law trying to impose their unfulfilled dreams on others, and reluctant bookkeeping accountant.

A soft thump from the front of the shop freezes me mid-keystroke. I hold my breath, straining to hear. Nothing. Just something outside, I tell myself, though the hair on my arms stands on end. Joey hasn't stirred, which should be reassuring. His hearing is far better than mine, and he barks if someone so much as walks past the storefront.

Still, I can't shake the unease. Not with Sue Bradley lying in a hospital bed with a broken jaw and ribs. What would someone be after in the bakery anyway? Her secrets on how she gets her sourdough so crispy? Sue's carrot cake recipe? It's not like the bakery would have a lot of money before opening. If they were smart they would have broken in at the end of business on a Friday. People flock to her half off sale.

I roll my eyes at myself. Here I am trying to reason when the best time to break into the bakery would be. Good grief!

"Get back to work. The sooner I finish, the sooner I can go—" A sharp knock at the front door sends my heart into my throat. Joey springs to life, bolting across the floor before I can react.

"Joey, no!" I hiss, but he's already nosing the office door open, squeezing through the gap and disappearing into the darkened shop. His sudden barking echoes against the glass wall that's the front of the shop. This isn't his friendly "hello there" barking. This is his "someone's here" alert.

Another knock, more insistent now. More barking.

I hesitate, weighing my options. The shop is dark, but the parking lot gives enough illumination that whoever's out there can see Joey dancing around, giving away my presence. I could ignore it, but what if it's... I can't bring myself to finish that thought.

"Better the battle you know," I told myself, standing. Cautiously, I edge around my desk and peek through the office door. A broad silhouette stands outside, the outlineunmistakable even in shadow. My heartbeat quickening as I step into the main shop. "What in the world?"

The security light catches on his badge as I approach. It is him, Tobias. Looking impossibly good in his uniform, his face set in serious lines that do nothing to diminish how desperately I want to run my hands through that silver-streaked hair.

I smooth my own hair, suddenly aware I probably look like I've been through a wind tunnel after hours of absent-mindedly twisting it while working. With a deep breath, I scoop up Joey, who's frantically pawing at the door, and unlock it.

"Hey." I step aside to allow Tobias to walk past me.

Joey erupts into a frenzy of excitement, wriggling and grunting like Tobias is a rock star and he's his number one fan. The little furry traitor.

"What are you doing?" His question comes out like an accusation, those eyes filled with something I can't quite place. Before I can answer, he reaches for Joey. "Here, give me him."

Joey immediately nuzzles into Tobias's neck, earning himself an affectionate smile and a pet that disappears the moment Tobias looks back at me.

"Ruth," his tone hardens, "I asked you a question. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?"

The shift from tender to stern is quick, I take a step back. "Working. I had to catch up on paperwork." I gesture vaguely toward my office, trying to figure out what I've done to deserve this interrogation.

"It's eleven o'clock," he says, as if I'm unaware of the time.

"I know. I'm doing really well, I only have one more month and I'm done."

"You're done now." It's not a suggestion. "Come in earlier and finish it. I can't leave you here working this late at night, new rule, no more late nights."

Something in his tone ignites a spark of defiance. This is my shop, my business. I've spent years building it from nothing, staying late countless nights to make it successful. Who is he to waltz in and start barking orders and making rules?

"Tobias," I place my hands on my hips. "I have a business to run. Sometimes I have to work late to catch up on things, that's the way it is." I keep my voice reasonable despite my rising irritation.

"Like I said, come in early tomorrow."

The dismissal in his tone is the last straw. I turn and march toward my office, rolling my eyes where he can't see. "This is silly, Tobias. I'm going to finish it now. You can't tell me what to do. Have a good night and be careful."

I've barely cleared the office doorway when a strong hand grips my wrist, spinning me around. In one fluid motion, Tobias has me pinned against the wall, my face pressed against the cool paint. Both my hands are captured above my head in his powerful grip, his body pressing against mine from behind. The hard edges of his equipment belt dig into my lower back, but that discomfort is nothing compared to the jolt of electricity shooting through me at his closeness. His face is in my hair, his breath warming my scalp. Joey barks in protest, more than likely from being put down and not as a protector. Not that I want protecting right now.

"Go lay down, Joey." Tobias's voice drops to a commanding rumble that has an immediate effect. Joey's nails click against the floor as he retreats. "Good boy, Joey."

I feel Tobias inhale deeply, his chest expanding against my back. "I never forgot how your hair smells like a tropical vacation." His nose moves slowly from one side to the other, each breath sending shivers down my spine and causing my nipples to harden. Without releasing my arms, he turns me to face him.

"Tobias." His name comes out as a whisper. Up close, the fatigue etched around his eyes is impossible to miss.

"Ruth, I said no more late nights." His dark eyes bore into mine, leaving no room for argument. "You're done, come in tomorrow and finish."

But something in me needs to push back, to understand what's happening. "You don't get to boss me around."

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