Broken Rules

Chapter Fourteen

I've successfully managed to avoid Wells for most of the week. The only exception was our Monday interview for the article, during which my tardiness and hasty departure left very little room for us to interact. But aside from that, I haven't seen him all week.

I've been walking an extra twenty minutes from the lake house to the next nearest coffee shop, the Mean Bean, where the coffee is burnt, overpriced, and the owner is meaner than the coffee itself. Even my best smile doesn't even earn a hint of friendliness from her.

She's always glaring at me as if I've overstayed my welcome, which is probably true. I'm only purchasing one cup of coffee per full workday. But if she only knew the salary of a journalist at the Seattle Sun Times, maybe she'd reconsider offering more affordable prices.

But once the internet is back up and running, and this article that Wells and I are working on together is done, I won't have to worry about any of this anymore. I can work from the lake house and shake off these strange feelings for Wells. It will be water under the bridge, yesterday's news, buried in the past.

Except that I can't stop thinking about that dream.

I open my eyes, attempting to clear the vivid mental images from my mind and shift my gaze to Ellis. She's rummaging through the cooler for a bottle of rosé as we drift the lake on her boat.

"So when is the internet going to be fixed?" I ask, lying on the bow of the boat, drying off beside Delaney. We're still damp from our swim in the lake.

She suddenly halts pouring her rosé into her cup and turns to me. "Oh, shit," she says. "I completely forgot to call."

"Ellis!" I yell in frustration, sitting up on my forearms and shooting her a pointed look.

"What?" She feigns innocence, shrugging. "I thought you liked working at Hansen's Coffee. You go there every day."

"I'm there every day because there's no internet, not because I want to. I've been waiting for it to be fixed for the last two weeks now."

"Oh, please," Delaney mutters under her breath from her spot beside me. "You love going there."

I glance down at her, ready to glare at her, but her eyes are closed, and she's uninterested in my response.

"Okay, okay. I'll call tomorrow, I promise," Ellis pouts as she settles back into the cushioned bench chair and reaches for her phone.

"What are you doing on that phone that you've been glued to it all day?" Delaney asks Ellis, peeking one eye out from beneath the sun's glare.

"Nothing," she says, furrowing her brows irritably without bothering to look up. "Just work stuff."

"You're not working, you're texting," Delaney points out. "I can see your screen from here."

Ellis turns off her phone and tosses it into her bag. "Maybe I'm texting for work," she says with a touch of defensive. "And stop trying to change the subject. You're the one who's supposed to be telling us about Mr. McHottie math teacher."