The Aubrey Rules (17 page)

Chapter 23

The Aubrey Rules To Live By, Rule #23:
Every relationship has obstacles. And how my new boyfriend responds to them will tell me if he indeed is the one for me. I will do my best to remain calm and think rationally about how to face them, too.

**Note**
Beckett did NOT sign up to date a girl who lives out of state.

**Note #2**
When am I going to see him? WHEN? By car I will be nearly two hours away.

**Note #3**
This could kill our relationship.

**Note #4**
WHY DO I NEVER HAVE TISSUES AROUND WHEN I’M CRYING WHY?

My Connectivity video chat icon flashes, and I see Beckett is trying to connect with me. A wave of nausea washes over me. We’re just beginning. I don’t want to be in Wisconsin. I don’t care that load of people make this commute every day, as Shelley assured me. I want to be near him. I want to be able to see him whenever I like.

And this move could change everything.

I click on it and there he is, smiling at me from his hotel bed in Portland.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Beckett says, his eyes shining at me. But the smile quickly evaporates from his face. “Aubrey? What’s wrong?”

I try to hold back my tears, but Beckett blurs in front of my eyes. “I’m moving,” I blurt out.

“What?” Beckett asks, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“My condo sold,” I say, forcing the words out over the huge lump in my throat. “I’m moving out. Tomorrow.”

“
Tomorrow?
” Beckett asks. “Are you kidding? That’s bullshit. How the hell can you move in one day?”

“My furniture is in storage, remember? And Super Stagers needs this furniture for another property right away. So I have to get out immediately. Luckily I only have to move my clothes and a few things. Livy’s going to help me. Sunday is the only day I have where I won’t have to do it after work at night.”

Beckett rubs his hand over his face. My heart freezes. This is his uncomfortable move. Oh, God, this is going to go downhill fast, as he doesn’t even know I’m moving to freaking Wisconsin yet.

There’s no way, with his game schedule and practices and public appearances, he is going to want to date a girl who lives
two hours
away.

And with that thought, I burst into tears.

“Aubrey!” Beckett says, his voice alarmed. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. Just a different location, that’s all.”

“B-b-but it’s not,” I manage to get out. “I-I-I’m moving to Wisconsin!”

And then, despite my rule about not to get all overly emotional in front of a new boyfriend right away, I lose it. A sob breaks loose from my throat, and the full-on cry begins.

“What?” Beckett asks.

“Wi-wi-sconsin,” I sob. “North of Milwaukee.”

Beckett’s eyes register nothing but shock. I can’t tell if it’s from my location or from me crying about moving to said location.

“Sweetheart, stop,” Beckett pleads.

Him calling me his sweetheart makes me cry harder, and now my nose is running. Oh, God, I’m ugly crying in front of Beckett, fantastic!

I sniffle and look around for a tissue. “I need a tissue,” I blurt out. I set my iPad aside, get up, searching for the damn box, but can’t find it, which means I need to resort to toilet paper. I blow my nose, snag the roll, and come back to Beckett.

“You okay?” Beckett asks softly, his eyes reflecting nothing but concern for me.

“No,” I say truthfully. “I don’t want to be away from you. I don’t! And now I’m in a freaking different state, and we’ll never see each other an—”

“You don’t think we’ll see each other?” Beckett interrupts. “Is that why you’re crying?”

I sniffle and nod. “Yeah. You didn’t sign up for this, Beckett. You wanted to date the girl downstairs and now you have to take a train to see me and worse I’m doing the ugly cry in front of you and my face is blotchy I’m sure and you must think I’m crazy or have PMS for crying like this but I don’t an—”

“Breathe,” Beckett interrupts, his voice calm and commanding at the same time. “Please stop and breathe, Sweetheart.”

I immediately stop speaking.

“Breathe,” Beckett insists.

I pause, close my eyes, and draw a shaky breath of air. Then I exhale slowly. I open my eyes to Beckett, which makes me want to cry again, but I don’t.

“Okay,” I say, my voice wobbly.

“I want you to listen to me,” Beckett says firmly. “Where you live doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. I’m not dating you because you’re convenient. I’m dating you because you’re Aubrey. And we’ll figure this out. But I promise you there is no distance that will come be between us. I’d go anywhere to be with you. When I get home, we’ll take this on and figure it out together. I promise you we will.”

An overwhelming feeling washes over me as I take in his words. I know he’s telling me the truth. That I’m what matters in this, not where I live. That Beckett will be with me, and no matter what obstacle is, he is right by my side. My problems are his.

This is what love is,
I realize, my heart pounding against my ribs. Beckett listens to me. He provides calm to my world. None of my problems are silly or trivial, and he will take them on with me.

He accepts me, all of me, the crazy and the silly and the explosive bits, and wants to be with me.

No matter what.

If I was typing, I’d be using shouty caps to say I LOVE YOU to this amazing man, the one I know, without a doubt, I love with all my heart.

“Aubrey?” Beckett asks, interrupting my thoughts.

It’s all I can do not to confess my feelings. But it’s too soon to spring it on him, I know that. It’s crazy how fast I’ve fallen for him.

But when you find love, you know.

And I have no doubt about what my heart is telling me about Beckett.

“Okay,” I say. I reach for the roll of toilet paper, rip off some, and blown my nose.

“Is that toilet paper?” Beckett asks.

I feel my face turn red. “Um, yes.”

“We’re going to Target when I get back. Obviously you need someone to supervise your shopping list.”

I laugh, and Beckett laughs with me.

“I’m sorry I had a meltdown on you,” I confess.

“So you really don’t want to be away from me, do you?” he asks softly.

“I don’t.”

“I don’t want to be away from you, either,” Beckett says.

I smile through my tears. “Even though you just saw me ugly cry?”

Beckett smiles back. “Ugly cries don’t scare me.”

I love you,
I think.

“I mentioned PMS,” I tease.

“I hear girls have that,” Beckett deadpans.

“You really did mean it when you checked yes, didn’t you?”

Beckett’s face goes serious. “I did. I check yes to everything, Aubrey. And I promise you, we’ll figure this out.”

I know we will,
I think, staring at the man I love. Distance will be an obstacle. It will limit our time together and make logistics a challenge.

But when you love someone, you work through it.

And when Beckett returns to Chicago, we will.

“Here you go,” Livy says, handing me the box she has just removed from her trunk. I take it, and she picks up one more. “This is the last one.”

She slams the trunk to her SUV, and we walk toward the house as snow falls down on top of us from the gray sky. The winds from the lake gust up, and it’s brutally cold today.

“The first thing we’re doing,” I say through my scarf, “is making hot chocolate.”

We head up the drive to the sprawling house, the one built in the 1950’s and considered an architectural gem. I have to admit, the house is crazy cool, with lots of open spaces and high ceilings. I love the stone fireplaces, and the kitchen is gorgeous, with a long kitchen island, one I swear I could fit fifteen chairs around. Windows are abundant and there are fun curved walls, too.

And if I could pick it up and drop it on Lake Shore Drive next to the building where Beckett lives, it would be perfect.

I step inside the foyer and set my box of sweaters down. Livy follows behind me, setting the box she has on top of mine, and I shut the door. We begin peeling off our winter gear, and as soon as we’re done, I lead Livy back to the kitchen so I can rummage through my food and find the hot chocolate supplies.

Livy takes a seat at the kitchen island built for forty and studies me as I sift through a box for my cocoa mix.

“You seem to be handling this okay,” she says as she watches me.

I take out a box of Lucky Charms and sigh. “It’s not ideal, but I know Beckett and I will figure it out. So I’m looking as this Wisconsin thing as an adventure in commuting. And I can add living in Milwaukee as an unexpected life experience.”

Livy smiles at me. “That’s true.”

“Ah, Swiss Miss!” I exclaim excitedly as I find the box. Then I turn my attention to Livy. “And it’s the kind with marshmallows.”

Livy laughs. “I’m going to have to ignore my clean eating habits to drink this, aren’t I?”

“Come on, it’s fun,” I say, moving from cabinet to cabinet until I located some mugs. I retrieve two and set them on the island. “And it’s so cold. If you weren’t driving back to Chicago, I’d offer to put some amaretto in it.”

“Plain old Swiss Miss is fine,” Livy says.

“Thank you so much for helping me move today,” I say. “I would have had to make two trips without you.”

“Please, no big deal,” Livy insists. “But why do I have a feeling I’ll be helping you move into Beckett’s place someday?”

I fill a Pyrex pitcher with water and stick it in the microwave.

“Livy! We just started dating a month ago,” I say, shutting the door and staring at the buttons. Crap, now I need to figure out a new microwave. I hit a few buttons and thankfully, it starts.

“Listen, I know you have rules about these things,” Livy says slowly. “Or maybe you used to. I don’t think with Beckett you’ve been following the rules.”

I turn and face Livy. “I haven’t. I don’t want to live by rules anymore. I’m following my heart.”

It’s true. I’ve abandoned my rules, my safety net, the structure to the chaos that love can bring to allow myself to fall for Beckett.

It’s a risk. A huge risk. One I’ve never been willing to take before he came into my life.

But as I think of him, I know he’s the man I was destined to love.

And I just hope Beckett can come up with a plan so we don’t have to be this far apart as soon as he comes home.

Chapter 24

The Aubrey Rules To Live By, Rule #24:
When making love for the first time with a new man, everything should be perfect. Set the stage for romance. Lingerie. Candles. A bottle of wine or champagne. Make your first time a sexy night to remember.

**Note**
Okay, I never planned on wearing snowflake flannel pajamas for my first sexy time with Beckett.

**Note #2**
I was supposed to have lost five pounds first. I hate you, French fries. I hate my addiction to you.

**Note #3**
I do have candles, but the way he’s been kissing me I refuse to stop him so I can have romantic lighting. Screw it.

Beep!

Beep!

Beep!

I groggily lift my head. My cell is going off with text message alerts. I had been talking to Beckett after his game in Las Vegas, the last game of his weeklong road trip. I’m sprawled out on the bed, stomach down, on top of the covers in my pajamas. Crap, I must have fallen asleep on him again.

I reach for my phone and squint at it. It’s a little after seven in the morning.

And it’s Beckett.

Sweetheart if you’re up message me.

Can you wake up?

AUBREY WAKE UP

I roll over on to my back and type him back.

You’d better be coming to Milwaukee to see me if you’re insisting I wake up at 7 AM on a Sunday.

Then I hit ‘send’ and wait for his reply.

It’s been a week since I moved to Wisconsin. I’m taking the train into Chicago, leaving the station at a quarter after six every morning and hopping on a bus to get to work. The only train I can make back leaves at eight in the evening.

I’m miserable and exhausted.

And to top off my first week in Wisconsin, the snow has been steady, with more heavy snow predicted all day today.

But seeing these messages from Beckett instantly brightens my mood. He’s finally home, and even if he’s in Chicago right now and I’m here, I’m happier knowing he’s back.

I wait for his reply. But oddly, he doesn’t text back like he normally does.

Hmmm. I sit up and stretch, and then push a wild, curly lock of my red hair out of my face. I wait for Beckett to respond when I hear my doorbell ring.

What? Who the hell is ringing my doorbell at seven in the morning? Who even knows I live here?

Wait a minute. Beckett just texted me. And I sent him the link to my new show property when we were talking this week—

Beckett! I leap off the bed and hurry down the stairs, so excited to see him after this long road trip.

I run to the door in my pajamas. I quickly glance through the peep hole, and I do confirm it is my Captain Smart Ass at the door.

I grin and throw open the door. Beckett is standing before me in his black wool overcoat, beanie, scarf and gloves, the snow cascading behind him at a rapid rate.

“Beckett, what are you doing here?” I cry, leaping up and throwing myself into his arms.

I wrap myself around him and he laughs, and I laugh with him. He carries me thought the doorway and shuts the door behind him with one hand.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, his brown eyes sparkling at me.

I stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. “You have no idea how much.”

Beckett’s mouth closes over mine, and I drink in every bit of him—the taste of mint on his tongue, how his five o’clock shadow lightly scratches against my face, how the faint scent of his cologne lingers on his skin.

I break the kiss and study him. “I still can’t believe it. You’re here.”

Beckett puts me down and cups my face in his gloved hands. “I missed you, Aubrey. This road trip was an eternity to me. The whole ride back from Vegas all I could think about was you. I know we had plans to meet up in Chicago but I wanted to see you now. I need this. I need to be with you.”

As I stare into his eyes, I realize the distance didn’t matter to Beckett. He got straight off an airplane at five in the morning and drove nearly two hours in heavy snow simply to spend time with me.

There are no obstacles for Beckett as far as I’m concerned.

I love you,
I think, gazing into his eyes.
And right now I’m going to show you in the one way I can.

“I want to be with you,” I say softly.

“I’m glad, I’d hate to have to drive right back in that shitty weather,” Beckett says, grinning. He takes off his beanie and gloves, tossing them on the hall table. Then he removes his coat and suit jacket, oblivious to what I’m thinking.

It’s all I can do not to laugh. My beautiful, earnest, sweet boyfriend doesn’t get what I’m saying.

“Beckett, remember when I said I don’t believe in hook-ups?”

“Yeah, I do,” Beckett says, a look of confusion passing over his face.

“I know if we sleep together right now, it’s not a hook-up,” I say. “I want to be with you.”

I watch as Beckett realizes what I’m saying.

“Wait—you want to have sex? Now?” he asks.

I blush. “Okay, I know I’m supposed to have this whole sexy vibe going on and candles and perfume and lingerie—”

Oh shit.
Shit!
I glance down and realize I’m wearing snowflake pajamas. My first time making love with Beckett and I’m in
flannel pajamas?
Gah!

“Okay, rethinking. We should wait. I should put on something sexy and beauti—”

Beckett cuts me off by claiming my mouth with his. His kiss his hot and intense. He moves me backwards and pins me against the hallway wall. The kisses are growing faster and urgent and heat is burning through me.

“Oh, God,” I gasp against his lips.

He tears his mouth away from mine. “You’re already sexy and beautiful,” he says, his eyes intense. “And right now is perfect. I want you.”

Then his lips crush down on mine with intensity, and his whole body is hard against mine. “I have gone crazy thinking about you. About this.”

I’m on fire. I swear I’m on fire.

I yank at his dress shirt, freeing it from his pants. Beckett’s hands skim underneath my pajama top and find my breasts. I shiver violently in response. I begin working the buttons on his shirt, and he pauses to rip it off. Beckett removes my top, and finally we’re skin on skin, his hot chest pressed against mine. This feels so good. Beckett’s kisses are crushing, taking, in control.

Now his mouth is all over my body. I’m quivering with each brush of his lips against my skin.

I reach for his belt buckle, and Beckett groans in response. I press my mouth against his chest, kissing a trail to his belt buckle. Then I abruptly stop, standing up and undoing his buckle.

I draw an excited breath and slide his suit pants over his hips. Beckett helps me and his pants drop to the floor. He steps out of his shoes and pants. Now he’s standing before me in sexy black boxer-briefs, and oh, he’s
perfect.

My fingertips skim the edge of his underwear, and I’m desperate to feel all of him now, to see every inch of the gorgeous athletic body that belongs to the man I love.

As I’m about to pull down his underwear, Beckett stops me.

“I think I get to see your panties first,” he whispers sexily against my lips. Then he gives me another scorching kiss as his fingertips slowly, teasingly slide down from my collarbone, down my breasts, to my stomach.

Gah, my stomach!

“I should eat less fries,” I murmur against his mouth.

Beckett laughs against my lips. “Stop.”

“The salt makes me bloated,” I explain, kissing his neck.

“You’re fucking hot,” Beckett insists, his fingertips now undoing the drawstring on my flannel bottoms. “I can’t wait to see what’s underneath here, Sweetheart.”

I instinctively arch my back against the wall and wind my arms around his neck. I want this. I want him to touch me everywhere. I want to make love to Beckett for hours, to have him explore every inch of me. I want this in a way I’ve never experienced before.

Beckett moves his hands to my hips, and I whimper in response.

“Take them off,” I plead, desperate to be with him.

He removes my bottoms and steps back from me, his eyes hungrily moving over my body. Then he stops at my panties and his brow furrows.

“Lucky Charms?”

What?

I glance down.
Gah! Shit! Damn it!
I’m in my Lucky Charms rainbow hipsters, the ones my mom teasingly put in my Christmas stocking.

My face burns bright red. “Um, because I love Lucky Charms. My mom got them as a joke,” I say, the words flying out in an embarrassed rush. “I normally don’t wear them, I promise I have sexy underwear, but I got lazy doing the laundry and I didn’t have time to wash them, so I’m wearing them, but if I would have known we were going to have sex I would have worn something else and if you’ve lost your excitement I underst—”

Beckett stops me from speaking by kissing me. “I like them. They’re so you.”

“Shut up, Captain Smart Ass.” I laugh, kissing him back. My embarrassment is replaced by an urgent need to have sex with Beckett.

“Captain Sexy Ass,” he corrects, lifting me up so I’m wrapped around him. “Now tell me where the hell the bedroom is in this place.”

Oh, Captain Sexy Ass, indeed
.

We’re kissing and growing hotter by the second as I direct Beckett to the master bedroom. I’d already told him I was on the pill, so there’s nothing stopping us now.

We make our way to the bed, and now I’m wrapped in his massive arms, our kisses growing desperate. I want this moment. I want to be with Beckett, to make love to him, and I want it right now.

“I want you so much,” I whisper against his skin.

“Not as much as I want you.” Beckett gazes down at me, his gorgeous eyes shining at me. “Now, should I see if there’s a pot of gold at the end of your rainbow?”

I burst out laughing as he uses a leprechaun reference, and he does, too. I love this. We can be funny and silly and as his lips reclaim mine in a steamy kiss, passionate and sexy all at the same time.

I love this man so much. And right now I can’t wait to show Beckett how I feel about him.

I’ve come to the conclusion I’m a complete idiot about my rules.

Because despite the fact that I was in flannel pajamas, had on Lucky Charms underwear, and didn’t light a single candle, I had the most amazing, hot, mind-blowing, passionate sex
ever
with Beckett.

Twice.

He reaches for my hand and links it with his. We’re facing each other side-by-side in my bed.

I stare into his deep-brown eyes, and I feel an overwhelming sense of connection to him. This wasn’t a hook-up. It wasn’t just sex. This was
making love
with a man who gets me, who adores me, who makes me feel sexy and desired.

And I feel all those things about him, too.

“So is this the part where you throw me out because there’s an open house today?” Beckett teases. “Is that the excuse you’re using to cast me aside after seducing me?”

I laugh. “You’re such a dork.”

Beckett brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. “I’m a dork, but I’m
your
dork. You’ve somehow managed to get past that, haven’t you?”

He’s teasing, but I hear the faint echo of insecurity in his voice. Beckett still has no clue how attractive he is, both inside and out.

For a brief moment, my own insecurity fills me.
That day will come and
will he still want me and all my annoying imperfections when he realizes this?

I shove the thought aside. No, I’m not going there. Not after last night. Beckett hasn’t said he loves me, nor do I expect him to. But I know he’s moving in that direction. I know it from the way he treats me. I know it from the way he looks at me.

And most of all, I know it from the way he made love to me.

I clear my throat. “You’re an incredible dork, Captain Smart Ass. I’m on to your game, but I like it.”

He flashes me a huge grin. “I’m glad.”

“Let’s spend the whole day in bed,” I say. “It’s snowing and cold and I just want to be here with you.”

Beckett laughs. “Sounds good.”

“I’m so glad you came to Wisconsin,” I murmur. “I missed you so much.”

Beckett lifts his hand and takes one of my curls and loops it through his finger. “Remember how I said we would figure this out? Your logistics?”

I nod.

“When I was on the road last week, I called my real estate agent,” Beckett says slowly. “And there’s going to be a unit coming up for rent next month in the building. It’s small, street view, but they are looking for someone to sublet it.”

I laugh. “Beckett, how much money do you think I make at ChicagoConnect? I can’t afford anything in your zip code.”

“No, but I can.”

I pause for a moment as I take in his words.

“W-What?” I stammer.

“Aubrey,” he says, lifting his hand to my hair and stroking it affectionately, “it solves everything. You’ll be back home. In your own space. There’s no more commuting, no more time wasted on trains. You sounded exhausted last week. And I know how upset you were about it. Let me do this for you. For us.”