Breaking the Rules: The Honeybees, book 1 Read online

  “Nothing in particular,” Devin said. “Let’s get together and then figure it out.” I smiled. Of course Devin would take the spontaneous route. And of course I was the one who wanted to plan my whole day.

  “Can you give me a couple of hours to run some errands first?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Devin said cheerily.

  We agreed to meet at the park outside the running store where we began our training runs, and I hung up with a giddy excitement that I immediately scolded myself for. This is just for Taco, I told myself. This is all about Taco.

  Nonetheless, I had an extra little spring in my step as I gathered my things to head out the door for my errands. The blue sky seemed extra blue as I headed out into the cool but sunny San Francisco day, looking forward to meeting up with Devin and Taco that afternoon.

  By the time I met them in the park, a few minutes early, the sun was shining even more brightly, and the coolness of the day had burned off into an endless warmth that made me want to lay in the grass beneath the trees for hours, reading. I sat down on the grass, ignoring the picnic table nearby, and stretched out my legs, glad I’d worn a dress. The grass felt cool against my skin.

  A minute later, I saw Devin and Taco trotting toward me and couldn’t help the smile spreading across my face as I noticed Devin’s hair and Taco’s ears bouncing as they jogged. Devin smiled in greeting as Taco jumped up onto me in excitement, smudging my dress with lightly dirty paws. I had to admit, I was thrilled to see that dirty mutt, and I hugged and patted him, deciding to worry about my dress later.

  Devin, apparently, had aspirations not too far off my own. “What do you think about the beach?” he asked.

  I hesitated a moment. I’d assumed we’d stay in or near the park. I didn’t have a swimsuit with me, or a towel. I hadn’t even shaved my legs, though my blond fuzz was light and fine enough that it was hardly noticeable. And I had only lost two of the fifteen pounds I was trying for. But instead of running with my excuses, I instead stared up into his open face and said, “Sure.”

  I followed Devin back to his car, Taco zigging and zagging around us. We climbed in and I stared at the muscles in Devin’s arms as he shifted gears in his old but well cared-for stick-shift.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked, glancing over at me.

  “Not since breakfast.” I wasn’t particularly hungry, though—being around Devin made me a little too nervous to want to eat. But I kept that part to myself.

  He nodded and didn’t say anything, but a moment later he pulled up at a street parking spot outside a small boutique grocery store, and I followed him inside. “Why don’t you choose a bottle of wine while I grab some food?” he said.

  Aha, my brain warned. Day drinking? He’s a party boy. Don’t fall for him. But a glass of wine in this beautiful weather—and on the beach, no less—sounded pretty fantastic right now, so I searched the fridge case for a bottle of chilled white that would pair well with sand and salt spray.

  By the time I’d picked out the wine, Devin was already waiting for me at the register, his part of the groceries already bagged, only a baguette peeking out the top of the paper. He held out a hand for the bottle of wine, and I protested. “Let me get this.”

  “No,” he said. “I invited you.”

  I handed over the wine.

  Back in the car, he handed me the bag. “Guard this with your life,” he said.

  I snuck a suspicious look back at Taco in the backseat, who was sniffing hard in the direction of the baguette. “Not a chance,” I told him, and, seeming to understand, he collapsed back down onto the seat with a resigned sigh. It amazed me how human he seemed at times.

  We started to pull away from the curb when I said, “Wait, what about cups?”

  “Cups?” He looked confused. “Oh—for the wine! Of course!” Devin shook his head, smiling at me. “I would’ve had us drinking straight from the bottle.”

  I shrugged and smiled back. “I plan ahead almost to a fault.”

  Devin hopped out of the car, and I expected him to go back into the grocery store, but instead he jogged a couple of doors down to a little gift shop. Thirty seconds later he re-emerged with two hand-thrown glazed mugs in his hand. I laughed as he got back into the driver’s seat.

  “They didn’t have wineglasses,” he said.

  “Good thing,” I told him, “because I don’t think we’re supposed to have glass at the beach.” I stopped myself before adding, “Probably not ceramic either.”

  “Oh!” he said again. “Right! Well, see, everything works out.” He handed me the mugs, and I found a place for them in the grocery bag, trying to see what all was there. All I could identify was some olives.

  “They’re beautiful,” I said, which was true. The mugs were glazed in black with drips of red and gold running down from the rim. Who was this man, who would buy mugs on a whim for us to drink wine from? It was so unlike the measured approach to life that I took, but I loved it. His spontaneity was fun and exciting, and I found myself thrilled to be spending the afternoon with him.

  A few minutes later he pulled up at Baker Beach, which was, unsurprisingly, crowded on the cloudless Sunday afternoon. Baker was an off-leash beach right in the city, so it was popular among dog owners, and Taco quickly found another dog to play with, a tan Rhodesian ridgeback mix.

  While I made sure Taco didn’t get into too much trouble, Devin pulled a blanket out of his trunk and we walked down to an unclaimed area of the beach near some rocks. I set the bag of groceries down and lay on the blanket, my feet hanging off. I dug my heels into the sand and closed my eyes for a moment.

  Cool sand hit my ankles and my eyes flew open. “What are you doing?!” I laughed as Devin continued to pile sand on me.

  “Burying your feet,” he said matter-of-factly, as though it were obvious—which, really, it kind of was.

  “You watch it,” I said, and grabbed a handful of sand and playfully tossed it at his waist, careful not to get it on the blanket.

  “Now you’re in for it,” he said, and went around to the hand that had thrown sand at him, where I was gathering up a second handful. Devin bent over and, before I knew what was happening, started throwing sand on my hand.

  I couldn’t help laughing. “And now what do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

  “If I bury your hand, you won’t be able to throw any more sand on me.”

  “Oh, right,” I laughed, “you’re completely immobilizing me.”

  “I am,” he said. “Just try to get your hand out of there. Just try.”

  I turned to stare at my loosely sand-covered hand and wiggled my fingers, then pretended to try to lift the hand. “Oh no—I can’t do it! I’m stuck!” I joked.

  “You see?” he said. “That’s what you get. Let that be a lesson to you.”

  Then Taco ran up to us. Devin sat down beside me on the blanket and coaxed Taco to sit between us. With a heaving sigh, the dog plopped down on the blanket, and I turned over onto my stomach, freeing my hand from its sand prison. Devin and I lazily stroked Taco’s fur, and I thought about how close his fingers were to mine, how easy it would be to reach over and touch his hand.

  A few minutes later, Devin reached into the bag we’d brought. “Ready for some wine?”

  “Sure,” I said, propping myself up on my elbows and watching him unscrew the lid and pour some into the two mugs. “Good thing you got screwtop,” he said, and I laughed and shook my head.

  “I told you, I think ahead,” I said. “You’re telling me we’d be screwed right now if this bottle had a cork?”

  “Um…” he looked up, thinking. “Yes.” He handed me the cup. “I don’t usually drink. Kind of messed with the running. It’s not like I keep a corkscrew in the car.”

  “I don’t drink a lot either,” I said, and peered at him, wondering if the party boy image I’d conjured earlier had been wrong. “But on a day like this? At the beach?”

  He cocked his head to the side and opened his arms u
p to me as though to say, “What can I do? It’s out of my control,” and I nodded. “Solid point.”

  “Exactly,” he said, and held up his glass. “To nice weather.” I clinked mine against his.

  We each took a sip. “And to the marathon!” I said.

  He held up his glass again. “Doesn’t count unless we clink them.” I tapped his mug with mine obligingly, and we took another sip.

  “And to getting to spend time with my dog again!” He raised his glass a third time, and a wave of guilt hit me as I met his. He just seemed happy, though, his grin electric. I was so glad that he was grinning at me again, even more so now that we’d agreed to share Taco.

  “And to my dog too,” I couldn’t resist adding, “who helped me through the roughest night of my life.” We clinked a fourth time.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked, and I paused to consider.

  “No,” I said, and I meant it. Matt was in the past, and I much preferred being right here, right now, with Devin.

  We sipped in silence for a few minutes, and then Devin jumped up, Taco excitedly following.

  “Come on, let’s get in!” he said.

  I glanced down at his jeans. “Do you have a swimsuit?” I asked in surprise.

  “Nah,” he said, and leaned over to roll up his pant legs while Taco jumped around him in excitement, then ran a few yards away, looking back at us as though trying to get us to follow him. “You’re in a dress, you’re fine,” he said, and flashed me that irresistible smile again.

  “Okay,” I said, smiling and then looking down in embarrassment at the way his grin melted me.

  I finished the rest of the wine in my mug and then pushed it down into the sand and followed Devin to the surf, glancing back every few moments to make sure no one was messing with our stuff. Taco led the way, galloping straight toward the waves.

  “This is his first time at the beach,” Devin said. “Let’s see what he thinks of the salt water.”

  Taco hit the incoming wave at full speed, letting his mouth hang open and seeming to bite the water. Then he froze abruptly, sneezed three times in rapid succession, and trotted back toward us. Devin snorted with laughter and I started laughing too, and soon neither of us could stop. It was as though we had the beach to ourselves; no one else around us mattered. It was just the two of us and our dog, standing there on the beach, slightly buzzed from the wine, laughing harder and harder, and every time I thought we were done glancing at the other’s face and starting in all over again.

  Devin reached out and grabbed my arm as though to steady himself, his eyes tearing up from the laughter, and the warmth of his hand spread through my whole body.

  Does he…? Could he…? I hardly dared wonder. A guy like Devin, so free and spontaneous? With a girl like me, so precise and planned?

  And then the moment was past and the two of us were stepping into the water-logged sand at the edge of the water, sinking down into it before the salt water rushed over our feet and then retreated, leaving hints of foam on our toes. Taco came back, and he’d found a stick. Tentatively, as though worried about getting his paws dirty, he trotted out to Devin, looking up at him eagerly. Devin took the stick and threw it down the shore for Taco, who raced after it.

  I ventured in a little farther, and after a few throws Taco got bored with Devin and brought the stick to me. I was touched. I threw it for him, and got so caught up in watching him run after it and then bound back into the waves toward me, no longer suspicious of the water, that I didn’t even notice when a larger wave swept toward me.

  “Watch out!” Devin called, but by the time I turned to see, it was too late. The wave splashed over me, soaking the bottom of my dress to my waist, and the rush of water pushed me off balance. I stepped backward, trying to catch myself, but the surface of the sand was uneven. My arms flailed wildly for a moment, and then I fell into the retreating wave. When I stood up, the whole front and bottom of my dress was soaked, and my underwear clung to my skin.

  I felt my face redden in embarrassment, but Devin was laughing again, and after a moment I laughed too, trudging back toward our blanket with my dress heavy around me, the fabric slapping wetly against my skin with every step.

  “Tough break,” he said, his eyes still glittering with laughter, and I punched him playfully.

  “Now what?” I said, more to myself than anything. “I don’t have a change of clothes.” I considered the possibilities.

  I could take off my dress and wring it out, pretending my bra and underwear were a bikini. No. I could never do that—not here, in the middle of the day, surrounded by strangers…and Devin.

  I could dry off with the blanket. But then we’d have to sit in the sand.

  I could…

  Devin interrupted my thoughts. “Now,” he said, “we have more wine. And our picnic.”

  I nodded, luxuriating in his laid-back attitude and grateful that he didn’t see my fall as time for the afternoon to end.

  While he poured us another mugful of wine each, I squeezed out the skirt of my dress as best I could, then sat back down on the blanket. Taco plopped down in my lap, and I imagined how much dog hair would be glued to me when he got up. But I didn’t care.

  “I have a jacket in the car,” he offered. “Want me to get it?”

  “No, thanks,” I said. “The sun is plenty warm.”

  Taking a sip of wine, I reached for the bag of groceries and started setting out containers on the blanket between us. Devin hadn’t gotten plates or forks—I smiled to myself when I realized this, unsurprised—so we ate with our fingers, closing the containers back up between bites to protect them from Taco’s eager mouth. The baguette was crusty on the outside and soft in the center, just like a baguette should be. I pulled off a chunk and watched the crust shatter and crumbs rain down on the blanket beneath. He’d gotten hummus, olives, sun-dried tomatoes, prosciutto. All these rich, caloric foods certainly wouldn’t help me with my weight-loss goals, but for that moment I didn’t care. It was perfect, and all so delicious that I even forgot, at least briefly, about my clinging wet dress.

  “This is great, Devin,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “I’m having a good time,” he said, and the way he was looking at me when I met his eyes made me shiver. My insides did a quick flip-flop before I regained my composure and then tried to hide behind my mug of wine.

  We lay and talked while Taco curled up between us and snored. As the sun moved lower in the sky, a few clouds appeared, and I found myself starting to shiver in my still-damp dress. I looked around me for the first time in probably two hours, and realized that most of the people who had been out here had packed up, and we had the beach almost to ourselves. Taco was passed out on his side, snoring gently.

  “Are you cold?” Devin asked, glancing at my goose-bumped arm as I reached out for another olive.

  “I am,” I admitted, though I didn’t want this afternoon to end.

  “We could head out,” he began, “or…I could go grab my jacket for you from the car, and we could watch the sunset. It’ll only be another fifteen minutes or so.”

  I smiled. “Sure.”

  He jumped up and clipped Taco’s leash onto his collar, handing me the end, and then jogged back toward his car. Taco strained against the leash, whining and then barking toward Devin anxiously.

  “You poor boy,” I said to him. “You must have missed Devin so much when you were lost, didn’t you?” I patted Taco. “I can understand,” I whispered. “He’s pretty special.”

  A moment later, Devin returned with a dark brown hoodie that was several sizes too big for me. “Thanks,” I said, taking it from him. As I pulled it over my head, I was enveloped in Devin’s scent. It made my heart beat faster.

  Oh no, I thought. I’m really falling for him.

  We sat side by side, facing the ocean, staring out at the sun peeking out from behind the Golden Gate Bridge. It was beautiful, and as the sun sunk lower, muted colors appeared, bouncing off the wisps o
f clouds. I could feel Devin’s presence beside me acutely, the tiny inches between us, could hear his breath, and I wanted to touch him.

  “Are you warm?” he asked, and I snuggled his hoodie closer to my body.

  “I’m warmer,” I said.

  And then he bridged the distance between us, did what I’d been too scared to do. He put an arm around me, drew me toward him, and my heart fluttered. “I want you to be warm.”

  “You’re so warm,” I whispered, glancing at him and then quickly looking back at the sunset.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered back.

  His touch spreading through the side of my body where we were touching, encompassing my whole body, warming me all the way through. Beautiful? He didn’t see me as overweight, as slow, as unaccomplished?

  We sat like that for several minutes, watching the colors in the sky slowly intensify, then darken. I was fully sober again, the alcohol fading with the light. Taco licked my foot intently, and I wondered what was going to happen next. Where was this heading? What were we doing? Was this a huge mistake?

  And then I told the voice in my head to hush. Just enjoy this moment, I told myself. Don’t worry about the future. Don’t worry about how this will change things. Just enjoy it.

  The sunset faded to dark blues and purples and the beach around us was shaded. The last few people had left and I couldn’t deny any longer than the day was coming to a close. I started to shift to stand up, then glanced at Devin. He looked back at me, his eyes only inches from mine. And instead of standing, I leaned more heavily into him, pressing my body into his, and he leaned into me. His eyes were flecks of green with smaller flecks of amber, and they came closer and closer. The moment seemed to stretch out into minutes, days, and then our lips were touching, soft and gentle. His hair smelled like the hoodie, and his mouth tasted like the white wine.

  Devin put a hand on the back of my neck and gently drew me toward him, and then his tongue was on mine, tracing slow circles. I loved the soft plushness of his lips.