Page 6 of Broken Rules
“It doesn’t matter. I can deal with a few calls a month.”
My brows furrow. “Sadie, don’t push this off like it’s not a big deal. If he can find a number, what’s stopping him from finding an address? It’s better to nip the issue in the bud before the situation spirals into something worse.”
Her silence is deafening, feeling the stress pouring out of her. “I will. Soon.”
I sigh and draw her in for a side hug. “Okay. I’ll text you tomorrow. Don’t forget your bag in the trunk.”
She nods, grabs the clothes, and waves before striding to her apartment along the darkened pathway. I watch her until she enters her home, then pull into traffic, driving the five-minute distance to my two-story house. Living in Portland means my neighbors are close by, yet I have no desire to talk to anyone. By the end of each night, I’m just a body waiting to crash, forcing myself to leave work at the front door.
TWO
CHAOS IN A WORLD OF PERFECTION
I tend to drive on autopilot until reality kicks in every few moments like shit—how did I not die within the last five minutes of staring out my windshield thinking about anything other than operating heavy machinery? Because my mind knows where to go, taking the same route every day.
Wake up, work both jobs, sleep, and start again.
Earlier this week, while driving through Portland, I nearly ran over a woman crossing the street to an apartment complex on my way back to work from my lunch break—not my finest moment, and an eyeopener to be more careful. Proof my mind does run on autopilot, and I need to slow down.
I’m no jealous person, but what would life be like living a day in the shoes of a man who has his shit together? I have no shame walking in mine—there’s just not much going on for me other than punching a time clock, no room for anything new, but that’s because I’ve yet to find something worth occupying my time…someone.
Would I prefer the company of a woman next to me when I wake up? Sure, but there’s a difference between hooking up and really finding your person. A woman who plucks those heartstrings in your chest with the slightest smile, how effortlessly the terms us, our, and we roll off the tongue because being around them is that easy, where autopilot no longer exists since you’re invested in every moment together.
There are clients who stay at the cabin every week for the Kylo Kent Experience, and since I’m Kylo’s assistant, I can introduce myself to women—find that smile. In twelve years, I’ve yet to immerse myself in any of them or have the urge to talk to anyone for more than a one-night stand—until she strolled by me with that gorgeous smile, and I felt a pluck.
Love at first sight is bullshit.
Parked in front of the cabin, I puff out my cheeks, exhaling a heavy breath while rubbing my hand over my face, still unable to get that woman from this morning out of my head—her cute face, that round ass, and the confidence in her step—love at first sight is bullshit, right?
Fuck…what was her name again? I really need to start putting more effort into knowing his clients.
I huff a laugh, then groan while getting out of the car, my knee aching, and I shake the sawdust from my jacket before heading inside the cabin instead of going home. Kylo overworks himself just as much as me, maybe more, but he doesn’t see it. I hope he’ll take my suggestion to cut back his client intake to once a month for a while—so much prep work and mental stimulation go into his sessions. He’ll eventually get burnt out accepting clients without proper breaks in between, even if he doesn’t fuck everyone.
How does Kylo keep his dick soft around a woman like her? Knowing he hasn’t touched her that way makes me want to talk to her even more, yet the chances I’ll ever formally meet her are slim to none. Strolling through the great room, I enter the kitchen and go straight for the peas in the freezer, snagging a beer from the fridge, then sit at the island.
“I need to quit before my knee gives out.”
“Old at the age of thirty-one.” Kylo chuckles from the couch and places the book he was reading on the coffee table.
“Yeah. Well, not everyone can work from home with their dream career. I was told to suck it up and get my ass to work straight out of high school.”
“So quit. You make more than enough here.”
I snort a laugh—yeah, if only it were that easy.
Laying the peas on my knee, I sigh, resting my elbow on the countertop while smoothing my thumb over the beer cap. “You know if I quit, I wouldn’t hear the end of it from my pops. The old man wants his son to take over the family business bullshit.”
“And logging isn’t what you want.”
“Got that right.” I slouch further into the seat and plop my foot onto the next chair, staring out into the distance. “Trust me. If I could, I’d leave in a heartbeat.”
Kylo stays quiet for a moment, and I look at him. “I’m going to need Lina to come in early on Saturday morning to clean and stock feminine products.”
“Why?” I ask, straightening up in my seat.
“I have a client arriving afterward.”
I furrow my brows and shake my head while breathing out a deep breath. Of course he is, even with the issue he’s currently having with his recent client termination. His better judgment has been off, and safety isn’t at the top of his mind right now, so I’ll have to continue to be firm with him regarding certain aspects of the business. Having to force him to hire security to guard the premises being one of them—Adam used to guard the mill before dad switched to strictly security cameras, so I know he’ll do his job right around here.
