The Off Limits Rule (It Happened in Nashville 1)

Jessie’s eyes are wide too, and she puts her hands out in front of her in the classic settle down gesture. “Okay, let’s just take a breath. She said not to respond right away anyway. Let’s harness our inner rich goddess and see what reply pops into our heads.”

“I don’t have enough self-tanner in my bloodstream to fully harness mine.”

“Oooh, I know!” she nearly shouts. “Say…Sup?”

I gawk at her. “Sup?! What am I, a frat guy in a salmon shirt and little shorts with anchors printed on them?”

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

“Yes. I’m going to the cell phone store and changing my number. Problem solved.”

Jessie is about to tell me I’m stupid when another text comes through, and we both scream like someone just jumped out of a closet and yelled BOO!

Cooper: What have you been up to?

“Okay, okay, okay, that’s good. He’s interested. He’s keeping the conversation going. Now, do exactly what Sasha said and ghost him.”

“Too late. I sent a reply while you were talking,” I say, trying to angle my phone away so she can’t judge.

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

She shakes her head, looking exasperated. “What did you say?”

I reluctantly show her my text.

Lucy: Nothing. Been super bored.

Her face is so disapproving. She thinks my response is garbage. “Oh great. Now he knows you’re pathetic and desperate.”

I gasp. “Hey! I’m not pathetic and desperate.” But I totally am, and now I’m itching to correct myself. Jessie sees the look in my eyes and turns her head to the side so she can shoot me an effective side glare.

“Don’t text anything else—”

She doesn’t get to finish before I’ve shot off another gem.

Lucy: But not like super bored. I mean I’ve been doing stuff.

Not just sitting around thinking about you.

The second after I hit send, I feel in my bones that it was a mistake. Yep, so bad. I groan. “What have I done! I’m a disgrace to single women everywhere! I have to fix this.”

“No! Lucy, don’t you dare text one more thing. Hand over the phone.” Now she’s looking at me like I’m holding my thumb over the trigger of a bomb detonator. She’s inching forward, and I’m inching away, fingers poised to fly across the keyboard at record speed. “Lucy,” she says, dragging out my name.

I hold her gaze and whisper, “I’m sorry, Jessie. I have to.” And then I bolt across the salon, pregnant Jessie hot my heels. My thumbs mash the screen in ungraceful movements as I zigzag around furniture, trying to outsmart Jessie by doing a spin move when she corners me. “HA! Pregnant sucker!” I yell while pressing send on the best text I’ve ever concocted.

Jessie slumps over into a chair, trying to catch her breath. “You’re beyond help. If Cooper doesn’t ghost you after whatever terrible thing you sent him, marry that man.”

I look down and reread what I wrote. The moment the tag under the text moves from delivered to read, I want to enter the witness protection program.

Lucy: What I’m trying to say is, I have done the appropriate amount of things since we last saw each other. Not too much, not too little. And I have thought about you. But also an appropriate amount. Some might even say a friendly amount.

Cooper surprises me and doesn’t ghost me. He doesn’t even make me wait for a response.

Cooper: That’s too bad. I liked it better when I thought you were pining for me.

“Wow, those are some top-notch flirting skills,” Jessie says, appearing over my shoulder like the blonde genie in that old TV show.