The Off Limits Rule: Chapter 8

I keep my truck lights off, and I’m parked a few houses down from Lucy’s. It’s odd how much this makes me feel sixteen again, trying to sneak her out of her house without her parents finding out. Except, she is the parent this time, and we’re playing a game of Get Past the Brother—which honestly feels riskier, because I really like Drew a lot. I don’t get the same thrill I used to get from sneaking around, because Drew has been a great friend, and whether he knows it or not, he helped me out of a really gloomy time in my life.

But then I see Lucy slip out the door and completely forget everything I just felt. This is absolutely thrilling.

She looks side to side and folds her arms tightly around her, clearly worried I’m going to pop out of a bush. I flash my lights twice, and even from this far away, I can see her beaming smile. She looks back toward the darkened house then hurries down the path toward my truck. The interior glows in warm light when she opens the door, making her soft features look like velvet.

“Hi,” she says, sliding up into the leather seat.

“Hi.”

Her eyes scan around the cab and then up to me. “This is your truck?”

I’m not sure what that inflection is supposed to mean. “Yes?”

I’ve always been proud of this vehicle. It’s my dad’s old 1972 Ford F250, but it’s fully restored, painted in a matte, light-hunter green with blacked-out rims and baseball leather interior. This truck turned me into that guy who, when asked if he has any children, pulls out a picture of what he drives. That is, until two seconds ago when Lucy added a strange inflection and made me want to park it in my garage, cover it with a sheet, and pretend I’ve never heard of it.

She chuckles. “Sorry. I think I emphasized the wrong word. I just meant I’ve already ridden in this truck before, but I didn’t realize it was yours.”

“Oh,” I say, letting out a breath of relief that I don’t have to disown my favorite possession now. “Yeah, when Drew helped you move home, right?”

“Yep.” She gives a private smile, and I want to know what it means more than anything, but she keeps it to herself. “I like it.” Her fingers go to the glove box where she unashamedly opens it, takes a peek, and closes it again. And now she’s dropping down the visor and flicking it back up. She plucks the change from my cup holder, counts it, and drops it back in. I’m mesmerized. How long will she go on like this if I let her?

“Lucy…” I say on a chuckle, and she whips her head up, tosses her hands in the air, and lets them fall dramatically against her lap.

“I know, okay?! But I’m a ball of nerves. Why am I in here? What are we doing?”

Earlier tonight, I called this woman cute and she looked like she was going to break down in tears. Then, when she admitted she felt boxed in and set aside, I couldn’t take it. I might not be able to do anything about making her feel anything more than cute without having her brother remove any dangly parts of my body, but I can do something about her needing excitement.

My grin slants. “We’re doing something dangerous tonight.”

Her smile drops, and her eyes do that wide owl thing that is uniquely Lucy. It’s adorable, but I don’t dare tell her because I know she’ll take it like I’m saying You should start wearing oversized bows in your hair rather than You’re so adorable I want to kiss every inch of your skin.

“Dangerous?” Her voice quivers a little.

“Yep.” I hold out my hand for a low five. “You in?”

She bites her lips together and looks down at my hand. “I’m in.” And then, because she’s Lucy, she takes my hand and wiggles it.

“No, no, no. Are you insane? I’m a mom, Cooper—I can’t freaking go to jail.”

I grin and cut the engine to my truck. “You’re not going to go to jail.”

Even in the dark, I can tell her eyes are wide. “TRESPASSING IS A CRIME!”

“Shhhh,” I say, chuckling and covering her mouth with my hand. Now all I can see are her big blue eyes sparkling. “It’s going to be fine. I know the owner.”

She pulls my hand away from her mouth but, as I notice with great pleasure, doesn’t let go of it. “Then why don’t you use that handy little device there called a cell phone to call the owner and ask him or her for permission first?”

I run my thumb across hers. “Because what fun would that be? I thought you wanted to do something dangerous.”

She growls a little. “I was thinking something more along the lines of trying to eat a whole gallon of ice cream in one night and not throw up.”

“Wild woman.”

My taunt gets me a sideways glare. “Cooper. I can’t be wild anymore. I’m responsible for more than just me. If I go to jail, I have a four-year-old who will really miss his mama and, frankly, be startled to see how ugly she looks in orange.”

I squeeze her hand. “Lucy, trust me. I won’t let you go to jail. We’re going to jump in and jump out then hit the road.”

She groans and gently bangs her head back against the headrest a few times. “This is stupid. You’re a bad influence.”

“That’s my tagline. Now, come on. Get out and shut your door quietly.”

“Because if I don’t…I’LL GO TO JAIL!”

“I’m going to personally drive you to jail and drop you off myself if you don’t quit yelling that.”

We both get out and stealthily shut our doors. I should say I shut my door quietly. Lucy tries to shut hers slowly, but it isn’t hard enough to latch. She presses it a few times, but it still doesn’t seal, so she has to throw her hip into it, making it shut with the absolute loudest WHAM I’ve ever heard.

She hisses and bares her teeth in an awkward expression. “Oops. Sorry.”

I shake my head and hold out my hand before I even realize what I’m doing. Lucy takes it without a moment’s hesitation, and I pull her down the sidewalk. Again, I parked a few houses down from our destination—because you can’t exactly park in the driveway of the property you’re about to trespass on.

It seems like everyone is asleep in the surrounding houses because the street is basically dark. I don’t think anyone will see us and call the cops, but if they do, it’s going to make this night a whole lot more interesting.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this!” Lucy says as we trudge across the lawn, rounding the corner of the house and heading for the back gate.

“Relax, we’re just having some fun.” I let go of her hand to reach over the gate and unlatch it.

“I can’t relax!” She’s whisper-hissing at me. “I have a terrible feeling you’re recruiting me into your felon gang or something, and to initiate me, you’re going to send me into this house to steal their big-screen TV.”

Now that’s a funny mental image: Lucy trying to lift a massive television out of a house on her own. I’m almost tempted to make her do it just so I can take pictures and always have something to make me laugh on rainy days.

“What’s a felon gang?” I ask, tugging her through the gate with me. “Is that like a special sub-category of gangs?”

“You know…like a group of felons who gang up together to steal.”

“You basically just restated the original title with more non-descriptive words. Here, stay close so we don’t trip the light sensors.”

“Ohgoshohgoshohgosh,” she says, staying close to my back as we hug the outer perimeter of the yard, heading toward the pool. It feels good to have her this close to me. She smells sweet. I can’t pinpoint the scent; it’s just soft and sweet. Maybe even a little fruity. “I’m going to jail. I am GOING to jail. Me, Lucy, will be going to jail.”

“What do I have to do to get you to stop chanting that?” We’re at the pool gate now; I unlatch the small fence and step inside, holding it open for her.

“Buckle me back into your truck and take me home safely.”

I level her with a loaded look. “Is that really what you want?”

She knows what I mean. This moment is more than just this moment. This is Lucy’s chance to choose to live. She told me in her long-winded first text that she wished she were challenged more. Well, here it is—her first challenge.

She holds my gaze, taking in a long deep breath through her nose. She looks toward the darkened house, and then when her eyes turn back to me, I see worry. “Lucy, I think you need this. Tomorrow morning, you’ll wake up, and go get your son, and have breakfast, and be a mom with all the bells and whistles—”

“I don’t wear bells and whistles on Thursdays.”

“—but tonight…you are just Lucy, a woman who deserves to let loose and have fun. What do you say?” I’m only about 30% sure she’ll do it. She doesn’t really have a good reason to trust me. Like she said, for all she knows, I’m a terrible guy and am actually leading her into trouble.

But when a slow smile starts to spread over her mouth, warm blood rushes through my veins, pumping and reviving my old familiar heart until it’s three sizes bigger. No more stealing Christmas for me. “Let’s do this.” But she quickly amends her declaration: “As long as this is only jumping in the pool and not actually destroying or stealing any property.”

I smile. “None of those things.” I step toward her to put a hand on her lower back and urge her through the gate. “Just swimming.”