Page 25 of The Rules We Broke
“Excuse me,” I said, mortified. “I was just about to get something to eat when you came over.”
“You can cook now?” Brady teased.
Oh, he remembered. Those disastrous cookie attempts. He’d eaten every last crumb and claimed they were his favorite—even when they tasted like sugary drywall.
“No,” I admitted. “I was hoping Doris had left something for me.”
Brady gazed at me with that familiar gleam. “I was going to take Caroline for pizza after this. Come with us.”
Caroline jumped up and bounced on her toes. “Please, please, please!”
I looked from her sweet little face to her uncle’s. The Eatons and the Jacksons didn’t mix. Rules. History. Heartache.
“I wish I could,” I said carefully. “But I have three trees to decorate tonight.”
“Ahh,” Caroline sighed dramatically.
Brady grinned—mischievous and far too charming. “Caroline, I think we should order pizza and help Miss Ellie decorate her trees. What do you think?”
No. Absolutely not. Brady Jackson was not going to help me do anything. He’d already crossed a boundary just being here.
Caroline ran up and grabbed my hand, eyes wide. “Could we?” she asked, voice dripping with sweetness and innocent hope.
I looked at Brady—who was still grinning like a fool—and then at the little girl clutching my hand, that precious gap-toothed smile shining like twinkle lights.
I will not let them stay. I don’t care how cute she is. I will not—
She wrapped her tiny little arms around me, and I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
“Of course, honey.” I found myself saying almost against my will.
Brady winked at me.
I curled my lips.
I still hated him.
Chapter Four
Bradywhippedouthiscell phone so fast, it was like this had been his plan all along.
He called the local pizzeria, rattling off an order so familiar it felt like a punch to the gut—pepperoni and olive pizza and homemade cinnamon sticks. All my favorites.
Why did he have to remember?
Maybe the better question was: why couldn’t I forget?
“Please deliver it to the Eaton’s place,” I heard him say. Then a pause. “Yes, I said the Eaton’s place.”
I cringed.
Nothing had changed.
The owners were probably on the phone with his parents already, letting them know their son was at the enemy’s doorstep—with their granddaughter. It wouldn’t surprise me if Mr. and Mr. Jackson called Brady to insist he bring Caroline home.
I glanced at Brady. His smile said everything was okay.
But it wasn’t.
