Page 2 of Rules in Love
Two cups were poured, and something labeled half and half, which I presumed was milk, was added to theI heart NYCmug. “I’m sure you’re going to fit in just fine. We have a lovely group of people here. Why don’t you tell me about your family? You’ve moved here altogether, right?”
Too focused on the murkiness I’d been handed and was about to taste, I agreed with a nod and forced a smile.
“Oh, how lovely. You’re a close family, then?”
“Super close.” I coughed, struggling to swallow what proved to be a terrible coffee. “I don’t know what I would do without them. Iris’s mum passed away when she was born, and my parents only a year or so before that.”
“Good heavens. I’m so sorry, Finn. That’s an awful lot of loss for such young shoulders to carry. I hope this big change is the new beginning you deserve.”
“So do I, Jan. So do I.”
The door at the rear of the kitchen opened, and a gust of New York humidity blew between us. “Oh, that breeze is coming from the garden. I might get Joseph to show you that later. He loves the little tree we have out there. He planted it when we first arrived, and it’s his pride and joy.”
Jan continued her well-rehearsed newcomer speech as a flash of color caught my eye. I heard the words “essential” and “code” and saw something on a lanyard being waved before my eyes, but honestly, she could have been tap-dancing naked while piggybacking a crocodile, and I wouldn’t have noticed. Because my attention had been stolen and my heart besieged by a mop of red curls, a pair of long legs, and a short pink skirt. Wide and fluttering eyes of glimmering green with tiny flecks of hazel I could spot across the room caught mine. Plump, pillowy lips curved ever so slightly into something that was not quite a smile but more than a smirk.
Her breath caught. The rise and fall of her breasts captured my imagination, and I had to hold in the deep-chested groan that was dying to come out.
It was just a moment in time. A shared glance held just that bit too long to be fleeting, but not long enough to be creepy. But with that one glance, that one smirk, I was wiped out. Gone. Done.
That was the very first time I saw Scarlett Grant.
As the bathrooms were pointed out to me, I again caught the mystery girl’s gaze and gripped the closest table in a feeble attempt to gather my bearings. But it was useless, and she was no girl. She was all woman, a goddess. One who’d blown my freaking mind and sent blood pumping to an organ not fit to mention in polite conversation.
“Jan… Jan, who is that?” I asked, my voice hoarse, dry like I hadn’t just drunk the world’s worst coffee.
“That’s Scarlett. She’s another one of our junior architects. She and Theodore over there joined us from England a year or so ago. They’re both your age, you know. Would you like me to introduce you? I’m sure you would have a lot to talk about.”
I was about to scream,YES, DO IT NOW!But my brain foresaw the danger of a lonely, possibly pent-up young man such as myself meeting such a woman.Do not talk to her! Do not touch her! YOU WILL BE WEIRD!
“Hmm. Uh, I’m sure we would, but you know, I might take a rain check. I can make my own introductions once I’ve settled in. No one else needs to shake my sweaty paws this morning.”
“Oh, nonsense. I’m sure they would love to meet you, but you’re right. You have all the time in the world to make friends.” Jan stopped abruptly and pulled a diagram of the office layout from her pocket. “Okay, that’s about it for now. Let’s see where they’ve put you.” Clicking her tongue, she studied the sheet of paper, looked up, and then pointed to two empty desks. “Ah, there you are. Your new home away from home.”
On the move again, my heart began to race. We were walking right to Scarlett.This is bad. This is very, very bad. My-ears-are-sweating bad.I had never had that happen before and hoped to never experience it again. One of the desks was right next to her, the other directly behind her, and thank God, that was the one we stopped at. It was still close. Possibly too close. But I found some consolation in the fact that my back would be facing hers. God help me if we were face to face.
“You have a lovely view from your window,” Jan said as she peered down to the neon-light-filled alley and winced. “Well, it’s not that lovely, but it is a view. We’re so happy to have you, Finn. Just yell out if you need anything.” I knew what I needed, alright. But asking to be hooked up with the hot chick in pink probably wasn’t what she meant.
With lust and a sense of knowing dread coursing through my body, I took a seat and began to unpack my things.
The urge to keep looking her way, to drop at her feet and beg her to be mine without a word spoken between us, was most inconvenient. I had a plan for success. From the get-go, I was to walk in here focused and determined. The next couple of years would be all work and no play. I would craft my skills and build my expertise, reputation, and wealth. Then, when the time was right, I would pack it all up, take my family back home, and start my own firm in Byron. An instant, heart-swelling attraction was most definitely not on the agenda. Nor were shaking hands and a twitching cock each time I caught a flash of those wild curls.
Deep in my soul, I knew I was fucked.
Scarlett
Just how much influence should Jane Austen have over a 21st-century woman’s love life? It was a question I had pondered frequently for years, but recently, it had rarely left my mind.
Because…
Something of a most alarming nature had happened. I had fallen stupidly, madly, deeply in love with a man I had barely spoken a word to, but to whom my ovaries swore allegiance the first time I saw him—which was yesterday.
To quote my darling Jane fromLove and Friendship, “The very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone.”
My very own heart-beholder was gorgeous, tall, and dashing, which a young man ought to be if he possibly can, but the best thing about him had nothing at all to do with his surfer-boy curls, tall, muscular frame, and a jawline I wanted to cut my tongue on. Though, those points all helped. It was his name. If I were ever so lucky to marry the man of my wet dreams like Emma, Lizzy, or Fanny did, I, myself, would become an Austen. Scarlett Elizabeth Austen.
I’d even started practicing my new signature. Not as soon as I saw him, obviously. That would be weird. I waited a good twelve hours.
Longing for a man I knew nothing about, other than the fact that he was my new co-worker, was not healthy or realistic. Though, in all honesty, reality had very little involvement for a good portion of my life.
