Unbroken Rules (Rules 3)

After the fifth round of tequila shots Allie and Caleb got to celebrate Winter’s return, I knew my baby was wasted. We ended up splitting a cab as everybody was fucked-up, except for me. I was just starting to get a buzz. I used to spend my nights getting blacked out with the West side. My tolerance is way up there.

“You’re right. You’re not drunk. You’re hammered.” I circle her wrist with my hand, pulling her back to me before she trips.

“A hammer? What do we need a hammer for? Are we building a house?”

I scoff. “Not hammer. Hammered, as in you’re wasted.”

“Wasted? I don’t want to waste anything. I’m earth-friendly.”

I crack a smile but don’t bother answering her nonsense.

“So this is where you grew up?” I help her walk.

She nods.

The streetlamps allow me to assess the regular-sized brick house in front of me. I briefly saw it earlier when we stopped by and Winter ran inside to drop her stuff, but I didn’t really get a good look. A reasonably large driveway, bright red picket fence, a garage. It’s a pretty nice house. Just doesn’t belong to a very nice lady, from what Winter told me.

A faint light can be seen inside, but the driveway’s empty. I assume her folks forgot to turn off the lights before they left. I remember Winter telling me her family is coming back to town tomorrow morning. I guess that means Winter’s mom will have to see me walk into her kitchen. Way to meet your girlfriend’s family for the first time. This can either go decently right or terribly wrong. Winter told me her mother is overly strict and hates having guests over. Never once let Allie spend the night. I already hate the woman, and I’ve never even met her.

We stop at her front door.

“Give me your keys.” I hold out my hand.

“I already did.”

“No, you didn’t?”

“Yes, I did. I gave you the key to my heart.”

I bite back a grin. Wow.

“Man, are you going to hate waking up tomorrow.”

“I won’t. Because you’ll be there.” She gives me a lazy smirk, gets on her tiptoes, and smashes her lips to mine. I can taste the alcohol on her breath. It starts out as a harmless kiss until her wandering hands drop a little too low, and her tongue slips past my teeth. She’s kissing me like she wants us to get down and dirty right here on her porch.

I pull away. “Baby, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but not now.”

“Why not? We’re home alone.” She wiggles her eyebrows and kisses me again, sucking my bottom lip into her mouth and tracing the curves of my chest through my shirt. I always forget how straightforward she gets when she drinks. I groan and slap her hand away from my pants. As much as I’d like to throw her over my shoulder and strip her down in her childhood bedroom

, she’s drunk. She needs to get inside, have at least seven glasses of water, and pass out.

“Keys please?” I insist.

Rolling her eyes, she stuffs her hand down her purse and hands me her sunglasses, then her wallet—pretty much everything except what I asked for—until, finally, on try number three, she gets it right. I insert the key into the lock. As I turn it, the door opens by itself. What the fuck? Why isn’t it locked?

“Are you sure your parents aren’t home?”

“A thousand percent,” she slurs.

My mind runs a million miles. This is weird. Either they forgot to lock up or… someone’s inside. We just got to Canada. It hasn’t even been a whole day yet.

No, I can’t believe someone would be psycho enough to follow us all the way back to beaver land. My brother? The West side? So many less than desirable options clash in my brain.

“Stay back,” I tell Winter, instinctively pushing her behind me. I open the door slowly. My fingers seek and find the closest light switch. The lights come on, and Winter jumps back a step.

No fucking way.

3