Rule #5: You Can't Trust the Bad Boy (The Rules of Love) Read online

  I pinched my lips together as I stared at the back of the bike. I could do this. I could totally do this. Right?

  “Make your decision, Blondie. I can’t wait forever.”

  “Brielle,” I said as I slipped the helmet over my head and secured it. A thrill rushed through me as I stepped closer to him. I was actually going to do this. My head felt light as I forced my nerves to calm.

  “Right. Blondie—Brielle. They sound the same to me.” He laughed.

  I wasn’t sure how to climb onto a motorcycle in a dress, so I held onto his shoulders as I swung a leg over and sat, tucking my dress under my legs to keep it from flying up.

  Once I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to flash anyone, I focused back on Jet. My heart pounded as I stared at his leather-clad back. I hadn’t noticed until this moment how broad his shoulders were, and I hadn’t anticipated how small I would feel pressed up next to him.

  He glanced over his shoulder, and his cocky smile softened as he studied me. “You okay?”

  The butterflies inside of my stomach felt like missiles as they dive-bombed at lightning speed. “Yes,” I whispered.

  He revved the engine as he nodded toward me. “You’ll want to hold on. Don’t want to lose you before we get to the bank.”

  “We’re going there right now?” I yelled over the roaring engine.

  “Yep. I’ve got trust issues, and I don’t work for free.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek as I nodded. “Of course. Right.”

  “Are you ready?”

  I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling my body closer to his. His cologne filled my nostrils. My hands were pressed into his abs and I was trying really hard to ignore the fact that I could practically feel every muscle. “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Yes?”

  I nodded into his back.

  “Perfect.” He pushed the kickstand up and turned back at me. “Name’s Jet.”

  I nodded again but didn’t look up. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was the fact that this was easily the most rebellious thing I’d done in my whole life, but I needed him to get moving before I lost my nerve.

  Thankfully, Jet wasn’t bothered by my silence, and he pulled away from the curb.

  At first, I felt like I was going to throw up. My stomach was in knots. and the rush of the world around me made me disoriented. I couldn’t be sick. I’d never live that down.

  So I said a little prayer, and a few minutes later, my stomach settled, and I could actually pull my head away from Jet’s back and look around.

  It was strange, seeing Atlantic City like this. I’d always been in a car when traveling through the city, and my parents weren’t much for rolling the windows down.

  But here, on the back of Jet’s bike, it was like I was seeing this city for the first time.

  The ocean peeked out every so often between the large, looming hotels. Places that my father intended on purchasing. He often talked about taking over Atlantic City. That it was somehow my destiny. A destiny that I didn’t want and would never pick for myself.

  But they wouldn’t listen to me. They never would.

  Anger boiled up inside of me, so I pushed my parents from my mind. That wasn’t what this weekend was about. It was my last hurrah before I went home and faced whatever my parents had planned for me.

  But for now, this was about me. All about me. And I was going to enjoy every minute of it.

  It didn’t take long for Jet to pull up in front of the bank. He nodded toward the doors and raised his fingers, rubbing them together.

  I rolled my eyes as I climbed off the motorcycle. The freezing cold air caused me to shiver as I stepped into the lobby. A woman with a bubbly smile nodded at me, indicating that I could step up to her window.

  “How can I help you, sweetheart?” she asked in a full-on southern drawl.

  I turned and pulled my debit card from my bra. “I need to make a withdrawal from my account,” I said as I slid the card across the counter. “Name’s Brielle Livingstone, and my pin is 8569.”

  The woman took it and nodded. “Fingerprint,” she said, motioning toward a small black box off to the side.

  I complied, and it must have worked because she said, “How much are you looking to take out?”

  I fiddled with a pen that was attached to a chain. “A grand.”

  Her gaze snapped over to me. “A thousand?”

  I nodded.

  She clicked her tongue as she stared at her screen. For a moment, I wondered if she was going to say something. But she pulled open her drawer. “What kind of bills would you like, sweetie?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Twenties are fine.”

  She counted them out in front of me, and I nodded along with her. When all fifty bills were laid out, she grabbed an envelope, stacked the bills, and slipped them inside. Then she handed the pile over to me.

  “Here you go, Ms. Livingstone. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

  I shook my head as I clutched the envelope in my hand. “Nope. I’m good. Thanks.”

  “You have a nice day then.”

  I smiled over at her as I turned and made my way through the bank. I half-expected to find Jet gone when I stepped outside, so I was pleasantly surprised to see him sitting on his bike right where I had left him. His gaze roamed over me, and I held up the envelope as I walked over to him.

  I opened it and pulled out a handful of twenties. He protested, but I shook my head.

  “Half now. Half later,” I said as I pulled the other half out of the envelope and folded it then slipped it into my bra.

  My skin heated as Jet’s eyebrows went up. He didn’t hide the fact that he’d watched me stash the money. I shrugged. “Purses ruin my outfit,” I said as I grabbed the helmet and slipped it over my head.

  Jet chuckled as he pulled the motorcycle off its kickstand. “I didn’t say anything.”

  I wrapped my arms around his waist. “But you were thinking it.”

  The roar of the motorcycle drowned out his laugh as he stuck out his left hand and merged into traffic.

  The farther we got from Livingstone Hotel, the freer I felt. It was liberating, putting Mom and Dad in the rearview mirror. Even though, in the back of my mind, I knew it was for only a short time, I was going to enjoy it. My last weekend of freedom before I succumbed to my parent’s insanity and followed my destiny to sign my soul over to the highest bidder.

  I deserved this break.

  It didn’t take long before Jet was pulling into a parking lot that lined the beach. Nice thing about a motorcycle, you can literally park anywhere. Once the engine was off, I moved to dismount only to find Jet’s hand appear from over his shoulder. Like he was trying to assist.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled as I allowed him to help me down.

  I stood there, feeling like an idiot as Jet chuckled and pushed the kickstand down.

  “You’re an investment,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to trip and call this whole thing off.” He swung his leg off the motorcycle and straightened.

  My heart literally skipped a beat as I glanced up to take in his full six-foot-something frame. His leather jacket clung to his body, hinting to the muscle underneath.

  To say he was formidable looking, standing there in front of me, was an understatement.

  “You okay?” he asked as he reached up to help with my helmet.

  The warmth of his fingers and how they lightly danced over my skin sent shivers down my back. I jumped back, startled from the way his touch affected me.

  “I’ve got it,” I said as I reached up to unclasp the chin strap.

  Jet raised his hands as a slow, sly smile emerged. “You looked like you were in a trance. I was just helping you out.”

  I slipped the helmet off and handed it over. He turned to set the helmet on his bike, which gave me a moment to rub away the feeling of his fingers against my neck. I was pretty sure my cheeks were burning red.

  I really needed to get a gri
p if I was going to be able to handle this weekend. Or else Jet would realize that he’d agreed to help a crazy person and drop me back off at the hotel.

  When he turned, his relaxed smile helped put my nerves at ease. He looked calm. Which was strange. He’d been so broody before. He was a mystery that I wanted to figure out.

  “Ready?” he asked, nodding toward the ocean.

  I glanced where he’d motioned and then back to him. “The water? Seriously?”

  He shrugged. “The boardwalk. It leads to the pier.”

  “Pier?”

  His jaw dropped. “Yeah. Steel Pier. How long have you lived in Atlantic City?”

  I shrugged as I followed after him. His stride was about double mine, so I had to rush to keep up. “Since I was seven. But I spend most of my time in New York.”

  Jet glanced over at me. “New York? Why?”

  “I go to a prep school there. Although I suspect that my parents send me there so I don’t get in their way.” I pulled my fingers through my curls and secured my hair in a ponytail at the nape of my neck.

  “Your parents sound like winners,” he said as he slipped his hands into his leather jacket and glanced over at me.

  “They’re okay. I mean, I know they care about me. They just have a weird way of showing it.”

  Jet chuckled as he kicked a rock, sending it shooting across the sand.

  I peeked over at him, wondering about his dad. I wasn’t sure how to ask him about what had happened at the hotel earlier, so I decided to take a less direct route.

  “What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. Any parental drama going on in your world?”

  When he grew quiet, I worried I’d somehow offended him. But I wasn’t sure how I could have. We were talking about parents; the most logical step was for him to share his own experience.

  “I really don’t want to talk about them,” he said.

  I nodded—probably a bit too vigorously. “I get it. No worries.” I bit down on my tongue, stopping myself from saying anything more.

  He was studying me when I turned my attention to him. His eyebrow was quirked as he watched me.

  Suddenly self-conscious, I patted down my hair and rubbed my face. “What?” I asked when I couldn’t feel anything out of place.

  He just shrugged. “Nothing,” he said as he quickened his pace, making me triple my stride to keep up with him.

  Irritated, I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Hey,” I said as I attempted to pull him to a stop. “If you keep walking like this, you’re going to wear me out.”

  He laughed as he slowed his gait. “Maybe that’s a good thing?”

  I shook my head. “You’re not getting rid of me that fast. I’m paying for a weekend, so I expect a weekend.”

  He nodded as his smile softened. “And you’re not worried your parents are going to come looking for you?”

  My stomach hitched. Truth was, I was pretty certain that Mom and Dad were going to have a search party out scouring the city for me by nightfall—but I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I was a kid anymore.

  I bolstered my courage and shook my head. “I’m a rebel. They need to get used to that.”

  Jet paused, while I kept walking. When I noticed, I stopped and turned to see him run his gaze over me. He snorted.

  “Sure you are,” he said as he passed by me.

  Frustrated, I moved to keep up with him. “What does that mean?”

  He paused and stared down at me. My brain must have short-circuited, because I stopped moving as well. It wasn’t until he leaned in that I realized how close we were.

  My gaze involuntarily dipped down to his lips. The memory of kissing him rushed back to me and caused my whole body to heat. It was like one of those moments where you’re not sure if you dreamed it or if it was real. My mind was saying it had happened, but the logical part of my brain was telling me I’d dreamed it.

  I wanted to kiss him again just to prove to myself that it had happened.

  “Brielle Livingstone, I doubt you could ever really be a rebel,” he said, snapping me back to reality, despite the fact that my mind was still swimming.

  Before I could retort, he turned and headed toward the ticket counter.

  I stared after him as his words sunk in. That wasn’t true, was it?

  Chapter Five

  Luckily, Jet’s conversation with the ticket teller saved him from my frustration. I didn’t want to broach the topic while he was chatting—probably flirting—with the girl behind the counter.

  After he paid, he handed me my ticket and extended his hand for me to follow. When we entered the park, I turned to him with determination. He was going to hear just how rebellious I really was.

  “Oh no,” he said as he stared down at me with a teasing smile on his lips. “What’s wrong?”

  I studied him, frustrated that in one movement he could still my rage. The sparkle in his eye told me he knew what he was doing. He was trying to get me all worked up.

  I glared at him as I shook my head. “That’s not fair,” I said, stomping over to get in line at the mini doughnut shop.

  Jet followed me and leaned in. “What’s not fair?”

  My body warmed from his presence. That both irritated and excited me. But there was no way I wanted him to discover that, so I turned and glared at him. “You know my drama, and yet, I don’t know yours.”

  His expression stilled as he straightened. His tanned skin blushed as he cleared his throat. “You don’t want to know, Blondie.”

  Great. Back to that nickname. I watched as he stared at the prices above the counter. He had no interest in what a dozen mini doughnuts cost; he was avoiding talking to me. Or looking me in my eye.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, feeling brave enough to goad him a bit. He was using what he knew about my family against me, it was only fair that I know something about him—other than that his father was thrown out of the casino.

  He had to know that I knew about his dad. I mean, he’d looked right at me when he left. But, I could be wrong.

  “Do you suffer from short-term memory loss?” I asked.

  His brows furrowed. “No. Why?”

  I shrugged as I moved forward in the line. “No reason. Just trying to figure you out.” I pretended like I was ticking thoughts off on the tip of my fingers. “I’m guessing since you can ride a motorcycle, you don’t have some sort of far-off blindness.” I scrunched my nose.

  Jet stared at me like I had two heads. “What are you talking about?”

  Sighing, I shook my head. He really didn’t want to talk to me about himself. It kind of hurt that he was being so secretive. “Never mind,” I said.

  Jet shoved his hands into the front of his jeans and shrugged his shoulders. “My family’s a mess. Not something that you want to get mixed up in.”

  I studied him. For a moment, it felt as if Jet Miller was being vulnerable. It was probably the truest thing he’d said to me since I met him. It didn’t take a genius to see that his family had issues. But whose family was perfect? Certainly not mine.

  I gave him a small smile. “Wow. That’s...deep.”

  He scrunched up his face as he mocked a hurt look. “Thanks,” he said as he scoffed and nodded behind me. “Your turn,” he said.

  I glanced behind me to see that I was next in line. After ordering a dozen mini doughnuts, I stepped off to the side to wait for them to come out of the fryer. I folded my arms and leaned against the outside of the small building, hoping that we could move our conversation away from our families.

  “So, do you go to school around here?”

  Jet glanced over at me. “I actually just graduated.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. So, summer before college?”

  Jet shook his head. “Not really. Summer before work is more like it.” He reached up and pushed his hand through his hair. “Dad says it’s time I take responsibility for the family.”

  The way he said the word
s made me wonder if he hadn’t meant for me to hear that. They came out soft, sort of like a thought escaping his lips unbidden.

  I studied him, wondering what he could mean. His parents wanted him to take responsibility? It made me wonder if this leather-wearing, motorcycle-riding guy and I actually had something in common.

  Did he also know what soul-crushing family responsibility felt like?

  His cheeks flushed as he glanced over to me. He cleared his throat.

  “Anyway. Didn’t mean to bring you into my mess.” He nodded toward my bag of mini doughnuts. “How do those taste?”

  I slipped one into my mouth and then licked the sugar off my fingertips. “Divine.” I tipped the bag toward him. “Want one?”

  He glanced over at me and then back to the bag. He shrugged as he pulled one out and popped it into his mouth. “Wow,” he said as his lips curled around his teeth as if to hold in the sugar. “Those are good.”

  I nodded as I pulled out another doughnut. “Cinnamon sugar makes everything better,” I said as we passed through the entrance of the pier and into the amusement park.

  Families were moving around us. Kids shouted with excitement as they ran from one side of the pier to another. I felt a tad old as I studied the kiddie rides that lined the edges.

  “Are we too old for this place?” I asked, glancing over at him.

  Jet shrugged. “Eh, age is just a number, right?”

  I stared at the ride with tiny airplanes affixed to it. “Yeah, I don’t think age matters in the case of your giant-ness and these tiny rides.”

  Jet scoffed. “Are you calling me fat?”

  He said that at the same moment I slipped a doughnut into my mouth. I tried to laugh, but cinnamon sugar shot to the back of my throat and threw me into a coughing fit.

  Jet’s eyebrows rose, but I waved him away. Embarrassment coursed through my body as my eyes watered.

  “You okay?” he asked, reaching out to whack my back.

  “Yeah. I’m good,” I wheezed.

  Wow. How ladylike was I being right now? I’m sure I looked so incredibly sexy standing on this pier, hacking up a lung. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for my coughing to subside to a dull ache in the back of my throat.