The Off Limits Rule (It Happened in Nashville 1)

“I get it, and it’s all good, man.”

He nods, and I nod, and it’s all settled now. I’ll stay away from Lucy.

Except I don’t.

I step into the boat and wrap a towel around my waist before my feet carry me directly to the bow where she’s sitting. My eyes immediately snag on Lucy’s bare legs stretched out in front of her. She’s so engrossed in her book that, at first, she doesn’t even realize I’m standing here. But then she looks to the side, makes direct eye contact with my navel, and scrambles to tuck her legs under her so fast she nearly dumps her book in the lake.

She’s yet to actually talk to me other than the soft “Hi” she gave me earlier along with the weirdest handshake of my life. Somehow, though, it went down as my favorite too. She’s quirky, and I’m drawn to her in a way that kind of scares me—scares me because if Drew knew, he’d turn me into a eunuch.

“Hey. Hi,” she says, shifting in her seat, eyes bouncing everywhere to keep from having to look at my face too long. I make her nervous. “What’s up?” She aggressively pushes a lock of hair out of her eyes and then finally really looks at my face.

She freezes like she wasn’t expecting me to be smiling down at her.

“Can I sit down?”

Those long, dark lashes blink. “Yeah, of course.” She gestures to where I was sitting earlier, but I don’t sit over there. I sit right beside Lucy (a little too close) and look at her over my shoulder, noting another blush on her cheeks.

“Are you having fun?” I ask.

“Mmhmm. Yeah, lots of fun.” Her voice is a little squeaky.

I grin and nod toward her book. “Really? ‘Cause it kinda looks like you’ve just been up here reading all day instead of having a good time.”

She looks at me over her book with a mischievous sort of smile. The expression makes my stomach coil up tight—which is odd because it hasn’t done that in a long time. “Who says reading can’t be fun?”

“You sound like my third grade teacher.” I notice Lucy’s smile fade a little, and she scrunches her nose, eyes dropping down to her lap because she thinks I’ve just insulted her. Only because this is an emergency, I ignore the DO NOT TOUCH sign and bump her shoulder with mine. “I had a major crush on her, though. You should have seen how many stars I got on my reading chart.”

This makes Lucy laugh, dimples popping beside her mouth, and suddenly, making her laugh is all I want to do. You know, as a friend. Because even though I find her ridiculously attractive, I’m also not going to try to start anything up with a woman who’s just come out of a breakup. She’s vulnerable, and I’m not a vulture, so I’ll just make her smile for purely friendly reasons. Also, the whole Drew-death-glare situation was a little scary.

“So, you’re a major flirt, huh? Like, is it tough for you to talk to a woman and not try to seduce her?”

A laugh bursts from my mouth because I kind of can’t believe she had the guts to call me out like that. “Maybe a little less creepy than you make it sound, but yeah, I guess you could call me a flirt.”

“Well…” She wiggles her finger in my direction. “You don’t have to do all that here with me. I don’t need the lines.”

“Why do you think I’m giving you lines?”

She tips a shoulder and pretends to be interested in her book. “Because you saw Drew’s bookish little sister

up here on the boat and felt bad that I was alone, and as the token flirt guy, you felt it was your job to entertain me.” She looks up. “I’m saying I release you of your responsibility.”

An incredulous smile pulls over my mouth because I really like her. I like that she says what she thinks and is not afraid to call it like she sees it from the start. Except, she’s not seeing it right this time. “I’m not up here talking to you because you’re Drew’s sister, believe me.” In fact, her being Drew’s sister is the only reason I haven’t asked her out already. “And you know, I think I’m offended that you’ve so easily diminished me to nothing but the token flirt guy.”

“Are you actually offended?”

“Maybe.”

She narrows her eyes. “Okay, I give you one minute to convince me I have you pegged wrong.”

I lift an amused brow. “You’re serious?”

She looks down at her phone and swipes across the screen until a one-minute timer starts ticking. “Clock’s ticking,” she says.

Well, shoot. Suddenly, this is important for reasons I don’t quite understand. I sit up straight and clear my throat. “Okay. I work in marketing. I’m from Charlotte—”

She grimaces. “Those tidbits aren’t going to help you. Dive deeper. Forty seconds left.”

“Ah—shoot, okay. I like to play solitaire on my computer. I’m really close with my parents; we talk almost every day, though it’s mainly to help them figure out how to change the input on their TV again. I like to bake, but I’m terrible at it. And I own a rescue shelter for abused animals.”