Rule #8 You Can't Excuse the Billionaire's Heir

“You’re crazy, you know that?” my best friend, Maddie, said as she
slammed the register drawer closed and turned to stare at me. 

“I’m not sure crazy’s the right word.” I tucked my red hair
behind my ears and adjusted my black-rimmed glasses. “Smart was more what I was
going for.”

She shot me an exasperated look. “Charlotte, we’re talking about
Liam Johnson’s party.” She focused her bright, blue eyes on me and the
intensity of her gaze caused me to twitch. 

“I know,” I said, as I reached out and fiddled with the stack of
gift cards that were piled up on the counter. But that was the problem. I
didn’t fit in with her crowd. I never would. The sooner she realized it, the
sooner we could go back to the way our friendship used to be. Before she got
popular. 

Besides, ever since my mom died last year, everyone was weird
around me. Quiet and skittish. I didn’t want to spend the whole night smiling
at sympathetic gazes and pats on my shoulder. 

The sound of the espresso machine filled the air. I glanced over
and waited for Parker to finish what he was doing. Well, in all honesty, I was
grateful for the break the noise gave me. It allowed me time to process how the
heck I was going to get out of this party without telling her that I just
didn’t belong or want to go. 

“I just…can’t. I have to work and then it’s my night to watch
Drew. Dad’s working tonight so I probably shouldn’t go out.” I gave her my best
apologetic smile, hoping that it would appease her for now. 

Maddie groaned and leaned both elbows on the counter. “It’ll be
fun.” Then she stuck out her bottom lip. “Don’t make me go alone. Please?
Brody’s going to be there and things are moving in the right direction with
him.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

Brody. Maddie’s victim this week. She went through boys faster
than a person with a box of tissues when they had a cold. I, on the other hand,
had yet to even have a boyfriend. Or be kissed…

Why Maddie was my friend was beyond me. But, I guess a
Kindergarten bond over mudpies was strong enough to keep us together. 

Maddie sighed and blew a strand of highlighted blonde hair from
her face. Her perfectly lined eyelids and dainty nose were definitely the
reasons why every boy at Sweet Creek High wanted to date her. Where she was
curvy, I was average height and thin. 

Maddie drummed her fingers on the counter. “Fine. But you’ll think
about it, right?”

I chewed my lip and nodded. 

“Are you just going to stand there all day or can other people
order?” a strained voice asked from behind me.

Startled, I jumped to the side. When I turned to apologize, I saw
a pair of dark brown eyes, perfectly formed lips, and a creased forehead. A guy
I’d never seen before in my life was glaring at me. 

I swallowed, muttered a small apology, and stepped out of the way.

“Lucas, be nice,” a girl with long, wavy brown hair and the same
deep brown eyes said as she walked up next to him and shot me an ‘I’m sorry’
look. She had a lace headband on and a flowy black dress that hit her
mid-thigh.

I shook my head. “It was my fault.” 

“See, it’s her fault,” said the guy whom I could only assume was
Lucas. 

She shook her head. “Jacquline. But you can call me Quinn,” she
said, extending her hand. 

Lucas moved to order while I stood next to Quinn. She had a soft
smile and unlike her friend, a kind look in her eye.

“What’s your name?” Quinn asked me, drawing my attention over to
her. 

“Charlotte.”  I peeked over
at her, trying not to stare. Sweet Creek was a small town in North Carolina.
Most people wore t-shirts or jeans. Sometimes, not even that. The beach was
thirty minutes from where we stood and during the summertime, swimsuits and
flip-flops were the norm. 

Lucas and Quinn were too well dressed to be from around here. 

Quinn didn’t seem to notice my faded overalls and white t-shirt.
If she did, she didn’t seem to mind. Although, I made sure not to touch her. I
had worked at the bakery this morning and didn’t want to get any residual flour
on her dress. 

“Are you from around here?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself. These
two stuck out like a sore thumb and I had this strange desire to learn more
about them.

Maddie finished taking Lucas’ order and called, “Next!” Quinn shot
me a sympathetic look and stepped up to order. I waited, not sure if we were
continuing our conversation or if we were done. 

Lucas had shoved his hands into his front pockets and was staring
everywhere but at me. He had dark brown hair that was styled in a way that made
it look like he wasn’t trying—even though he so obviously was. His dark jeans
were faded and ripped but I could tell they were made that way instead of worn
from work. 

“We just got here. We’re from New York. Well…” She shot Lucas a
look that was filled with…something. Regret? Understanding? Sympathy?
Something. 

“Why are you talking to her?” Lucas asked, turning to Parker who
had just called his name. Quinn parted her lips to respond but Lucas just
grabbed the coffee, mumbled something about heading outside to wait, and
stomped out of the shop. 

I couldn’t help but glare at him. What was his problem? “Did they
run out of coffee in New York?” I asked, turning my attention back to Quinn. 

Her gaze lingered on the door as she sighed. “You’ll have to
excuse my brother. He’s…going through something.”

I scoffed. That was an understatement. We all go through things. I
had had my share of things to go through. I swallowed as an all-too
familiar pain rose up inside my gut. Tears stung my eyes. Why hadn’t time
healed the gaping wound inside my chest? A wound that could only have been
formed by the loss of a parent.

Suddenly, I needed to get out of there. I needed the openness of
the outside world. Not the cramped quarters of The Bean where the walls were
slowly closing in on me. 

“I’ve gotta go,” I mumbled and headed to the door. Maddie called
out something about talking to me later and I just waved my hand in her
direction. I kept my gaze trained on the sidewalk as I hurried around the
corner. Suddenly, I slammed right into what felt like a brick wall. 

But brick walls didn’t grunt or mutter stuff under their breath. 

Not sure if I wanted to look up, I did anyway. 

Lucas was staring down at me. His dark eyes were stormy and hard.
It took a few seconds for me to realize that I was wet…with steaming, hot
liquid. 

Finally, my brain registered that I'd had hot coffee dumped down
the front of me. I yelped and began to attempt to wipe it off my skin. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Lucas asked, reaching over to a
nearby table and grabbing a stack of napkins at the owner's protest. 

I started to hold out my hand when I realized that he wasn’t
getting the napkins for me. Instead, he bent down and began to wipe the coffee
off his tan loafers. 

“These shoes are Italian,” he said, like I should know where his
footwear came from.

I stared at him, not sure what was going on. Thankfully, the
liquid had cooled slightly in the ninety-degree summer heat. My skin no longer
felt as if it were on fire. But that didn’t excuse the fact that he was more
worried about his shoes than the fact that I could have second degree burns on
my chest. 

“I’m fine,” I snapped as I continued wiping the giant brown mess
that was all over my clothes. 

He glanced up at me and I wanted to punch him. There wasn’t an
ounce of sympathy or regret in his eyes. If anything, all I saw was annoyance. 

“Well, you should watch where you’re walking.” He finished wiping
his shoes, straightened, and just when I thought he was going to give me the
rest of the napkins, he turned and flung them into the nearby garbage. 

Red-hot fury coursed through me, rivaling the heat from his
coffee. “What is the matter with you?” I asked, stomping over to the
garbage and fishing out his discarded napkins. 

He glanced into his cup and then chucked it into the garbage. It
narrowly missed me and I had to jump out of the way to avoid any more coffee
hurling my direction. This guy was a real piece of work. 

“I’m going to get another cup of what this town calls coffee.” He
held my gaze for a moment before turning and heading back into the shop. 

I glared at his back as hard as I could and dabbed my clothes with
the napkins, and then dumped them back into the garbage. I was soaking wet and
according to my watch, late for my second shift. I crossed Main Street and
walked the three blocks to my house. 

Dad was in the driveway underneath his “next big thing” as always.
His feet stuck out and I could hear his drill, amongst his swearing. 

Ever since Mom died, he’d thrown himself into his projects. Cars,
motorcycles, snowmobiles. Anything he could find, he collected and stored in
our yard, driveway, and backyard. We lived in a suburban junkyard. 

Mrs. Protresca was standing in her yard, watering her petunias
when I walked past her. She was staring at the large truck that had been parked
right on the border where our properties met. I could see the frustration in
her expression. 

“Hey, Mrs. Protresca,” I said, giving her the biggest smile I could.

Her gaze snapped to me. “What is this?” she asked, waving her hand
to the towering monstrosity. 

Frustration crept up inside of me. I told Dad we had to get rid of
these vehicles, but he didn’t listen to me. Something he was doing quite
regularly lately. 

“I know. I’m talking to him, Mrs. P.” 

Her expression softened for a moment before she got a determined
look. “It’s been a year, Charlotte. This can’t keep happening. If your father
doesn’t clean up the yard, I’m going to have to complain to the city.” She
adjusted the readers that were perched on her nose and peered down at me. 

I swallowed and nodded. “Of course. We’ll get it cleaned up.”

She gave me one more stern look before calling for her dog,
Princess, and disappearing behind her house. 

I sighed as I walked across the lawn and over to Dad. “Another
one?” I asked. 

Dad rolled out from under the car he was working on. “Hey,
pumpkin.” Then his gaze swept over me. “What happened to you?”

I waved his question away. He wasn’t going to change the subject
that fast. “What is this?” I moved my gaze to the car he was under. “You
promised me there would be no more additions.”

He pulled himself up to sitting and wiped his hands on a rag that
had been threaded through his belt loop. “Yeah, but I got this one for a steal.
Once I fix it up, we’ll be able to sell it for triple what I paid for it.” Then
his gaze dropped to the front of my overalls. “Did you get any in your mouth?”

Realizing we weren’t ever really going to have an open
conversation about his need to salvage every vehicle that came across his path,
I motioned toward my clothes. “A spoiled, rich kid spilled his coffee on me.”

Dad’s graying eyebrows went up. Before Mom got sick, he had thick,
dark hair. But now? He looked old. He had dark circles under his eyes and
always looked tired. I knew he was still hurting. We all were. But we couldn’t
get kicked out of our house. Not when this was the last place we’d lived with
Mom.

Pain crushed my heart and I had to blink back my tears.

Dad must have seen my reaction because he cleared his throat,
fiddled around with a few tools, and then laid back to roll under the car.
“Don’t forget, I’ve got to work tonight. You’ve got Drew.”

Great. Typical Dad. Anytime anyone got sad, he shut down. 

I wiped at my cheeks, angry with myself that I had allowed my
emotions to get the better of me. I took in a few deep breaths and then turned
toward the house. “I’ll be home.”

Once inside, I texted Winny to let her know I was going to be ten minutes
late, took a quick shower, and dressed in a pair of jeans cut into shorts and a
tie-dyed tank. Once I had my shoes on, I was out the door and on my bike. I
rode through the streets of Sweet Creek taking note of all the familiar shops.
The Bean was on the outskirts of downtown. Small shops lined the street and
felt like home. 

I waved and nodded to a few people who were either watering their
flowers or sitting out with a newspaper and coffee. Just when I turned down
Parsons Street, the familiar smell of The Bread Basket filled my nose and all
the stress I’d been feeling rushed from my body. 

This was where I belonged. Right now, this was the closest to a
home I had. Here, life was simple. It was all recipes and baking. I didn’t have
to think. I could just create. 

I skidded to a stop out back and climbed off my bike. After the
kickstand was down, I turned and pulled open the back door. I paused just
inside and grabbed my apron off its hook and strung it over my neck. 

“I’m here, Winny,” I called toward the kitchen. “I’m so sorry. I
met this completely conceited guy at The Bean who spilled his coffee all over
me so I had to go home and shower.”

When she didn’t answer, I finished tying the strings around my
waist, and continued. She was probably elbow deep in dough. 

“He was this awful out-of-towner. Acted like I was supposed to
know that his shoes were Italian.” I scoffed at the memory of Lucas
bending down to wipe off his shoes. “I mean, a real jer—” 

I rounded the corner and my words came to a screeching halt. Lucas
was sitting on one of the bar stools next to the counter. Quinn was next to
him, her lips pinched into a tight line, like she was trying hard not to laugh.

“Wha—what are you doing here?” I finally managed to say. This had
to be a dream. Well, more like a nightmare. Why was he here looking all high
and mighty? I had half a mind to walk over and give him a piece of my
mind.  

Winny appeared from the front. Her grey hair was pulled up into a
bun and her rainbow-colored spectacles hung from her neck. She had dark brown
eyes that were warm and welcoming. “Oh, Charlotte, you’re here.” Then she
paused as she studied my expression. “Everything okay?”

My brain didn’t seem to want to work. All that was going through
my mind on a repetitive loop was, He’s herein neon letters. It must
have shone on my face because she continued to stare at me with her eyebrows
creased. 

When I didn’t answer, Winny glanced over to Quinn and Lucas and smiled. “Ah, so I see you’ve meet my grandkids.”

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