Ask Me Why: An Enemies to Lovers Standalone Romance

by Harloe Rae

  His nose dusts my ear. I hear his deep inhale. “I can smell how much you want me.”

  I press my thighs together. “What?”

  “Yeah, I bet you’re wet for me.”

  “Stop, please. Maybe later.” My squeak is all breathy.

  Brance chuckles. The filthy sound turns my nipples into hard peaks. My empty core clenches on nothing but air. Damn him.

  He dips closer to my ear. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

  Brance shifts backward, putting some much needed space between us. The tension oozes from my straining muscles. I appreciate the eye candy, but my body could use a reprieve.

  “You don’t have to stay.” I’ve been repeating a version of that sentence countless times since he arrived.

  Brance shrugs. “This is where Ollie wants to be.”

  I peer over at him. “And you?”

  “I’m managing.” He nods at the novel still in his hand.

  “Feel free to pass the time reading. Just do it silently.”

  “That’s not nearly as exciting.” Brance wags his brows. “For either of us.”

  “You can shelf that in aisle three with the others.”

  He snorts. “No, no. This is coming home with me. Especially after how you reacted just now. I want to know what gets your engine revving. Maybe I’ll learn some new tricks.”

  This man is trying to make me climax on command. He might succeed before this conversation is over. “You don’t need any help in that department.”

  “I haven’t used my best moves yet.”

  Good Lord. How can it get better? I blink at him. “This will take much longer if you don’t quit messing with me. I’m not making any progress on all these discard piles.”

  Brance narrows his gaze. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  The answer is no. But that white tee barely conceals the ridges lining his torso. And his ass in those faded jeans is getting me steamy in all the right places. With his son around, getting turned on is highly inappropriate. Would it be so wrong if I took a quick squeeze? Maybe lower his—

  He clears his throat. I jerk my gaze off his zipper.

  “You can stay.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  My stomach dips when he winks at me. Who knew there was swoon hiding behind all those hurtful insults and callous sneers. I think he’s warming up to me. That could be very dangerous. I shove the crazy far out of my thoughts.

  “I’m starting to feel guilty. You two always come here. The balance seems off.”

  Brance shrugs. “Because you’re always working.”

  “That’s hilarious. Take a peek in the mirror, Mister Partner.”

  “I make time for what’s important.”

  I slap a palm to my cocked hip. “I’m a small business owner. This place doesn’t run without me.”

  His eyes flare, eating up my defensive stance. “Retract the claws, Brae. We know, hence our regular presence.”

  I avert my gaze, appropriately reprimanded. “Okay. Sorry.”

  “For the record, I give Ollie the choice of going anywhere. Thicket is all he wants.”

  I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “Does that bother you?”

  Brance is smiling. “Not as much lately. I’m reaping some benefits of his infatuation.”

  My cheeks flame hotter than a brick oven. “Took you long enough.”

  “Same to you, taffy girl.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “None of that.”

  “Sugar?” His grin is teasing.

  I offer one in return. “Stick with Brae.”

  “That suits you, among other things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Definitely not suitable for prying ears.” He lifts his chin to where Ollie sits, twisting toward us with a beaming smile. We exchange a finger wave. Little eavesdropper.

  My sigh is a hot fudge sundae with sprinkles on top—paradise for the taste buds. “He’s such a sweetheart. I’m very glad he found my store.”

  “The feeling is definitely mutual.”

  “You’re my best customers.”

  Brance grunts and crosses his arms. “But that’s superficial. It’d be nice to see you outside of these walls more often.”

  A swarm of bees high on honey buzz in my belly. “Would you like that?”

  Why am I digging?

  He squints at me. “Ollie sure would.”

  I accept that with a nod. “I’m actually training someone to fill in part time. Kallie is a college student off for the summer. She’s looking for a few hours here and there. I can give that easy enough.”

  “It’ll free you up for other things.” His emphasis on the last two words makes me shiver.

  “That’s the plan.”

  His stare is soul-deep. “What’re your hobbies?”

  “You’re looking at it.” I spread my arms out and spin in a slow circle.

  He stays silent, those blue depths far too imploring.

  I knot my fingers together. “What?”

  “I want to know about you. There’s more to your life than this shop.”

  With his curiosity, cleaning is officially forgotten. I’m off track and might as well share one of my passions. The old whiskey barrel sits to my right. I scoop up a handful of colorful pieces, letting them filter out between my fingers. “These are Captured Fragments. I make them.”

  Brance moves closer, peering inside. “What are they?”

  I repeat my funneling process. “Recycled parts of random objects. Most of the items are broken beyond repair and people donate them to me. It feels really good finding purpose for something thrown away. I smash these seemingly insignificant items apart, smooth out the rough edges, and create a unique shape.”

  Holding up an orange cube, I let the light reflect off the shiny sides. “Alone, they’re just a single sliver of glass.” I reach in and snag a few more. “But together, they make something special.”

  I tilt my palm and catch the sun. A rainbow appears on the ground by our feet.

  He smirks. “Again with the rainbows.”

  “I like natural beauty.” I lift a shoulder.

  “Me too.” He rips his gaze off my face, reaching for a fragment. The piece rolls around in his hand. “They’re like worry stones.”

  “Many use them for that.”

  “That’d be good for my office. There’s a lot of shit going down on a constant basis.”

  I put several dozen pieces in a bag and pass them over. “On the house.”

  He crinkles the paper sack. “You’re too sweet.”

  Embers glow in my lower belly. “That’s what you said the other night.”

  Brance scratches his chin. “Nothing but the truth. Tell me more about you.”

  I glance at the ceiling, searching for anything of interest. “I dunno. Trying to think of stuff is making my life seem really bland.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Iowa.”

  His brow furrows. “I haven’t spent much time there.”

  “You’re not missing much. At least where I grew up. My hometown is tiny. You can drive along Main Street without blinking.”

  He laughs. “Not a lifer?”

  “Not even close. I left with zero intention of going back.”

  “Same here. I’m from a suburb of Chicago. Like the city fine enough. There’re just too many bad memories.”

  “We have that in common.” I’m constantly plagued with them.

  “Family?”

  “Still living in same house. They’ll never leave. How about your parents?”

  His lips purse and I’m sure he’s about to shut me down. But Brance is full of surprises today. “My dad is retired in Florida. He travels a lot. Hopefully he’ll make it up here to visit Ollie before summer ends.” Something dark passes over his features. I barely hold back a shudder. His nostrils flare, and he looks ready to spit nails. “My mother is on the east coast, terrorizing her current husband.”

  I wait for more, no
t wanting to pry. He moves his jaw back and forth, chewing on something big. In the end, he swallows it down without sharing.

  I’m about to resume the organization mission when forty pounds of little boy plows into my leg. I topple sideways, bracing for the unforgiving ground. A strong arm loops around my waist and keeps me upright. Brance tugs me into his body while Ollie wraps around my leg. We’re all in a cuddle huddle. For a brief moment, I wish this wouldn’t end. But that’s crazy ridiculous.

  Brance is the first to pull away, keeping his hands on my shoulders. I offer a smile and mouth a silent bit of gratitude. Ollie clings tight to my thigh without showing any signs of letting go. I laugh and comb through his hair.

  “Hey, sweetie.”

  He looks up, resting his chin on my hip. “Hi.”

  Brance pats Ollie’s back. “Having fun?”

  His son shoots him a wide smile. “Uh-huh. The best. Thanks for bringing me.”

  “As if I had a choice.” There’s laughter in Brance’s tone, but I detect a slight edge.

  I quirk a brow at him, and he nods to the romance novel perched on my register. The grin stretching my lips explains plans for next time we’re alone. A low noise escapes Brance’s throat.

  Ollie’s gaze bounces between us. “Whatcha talking about?”

  I draw my lips between my teeth, hoping Brance will take this one.

  “You, of course. It’s always you, Ollie.” He swipes a thumb down his son’s cheek. A tiny piece of me melts beyond recognition. This man is ruining me.

  Ollie makes a running lap around us. “I want ice cream.”

  “We need dinner first,” Brance reminds him.

  The Tasmanian tornado comes to a halt. His pout could put child actors out of business. “But I’m not hungry.”

  I tap my lips. “How about we clean up and go to Dapper? We’ll share a bunch of stuff.”

  I almost expect Brance to lunge at the chance to correct me about who knows what. But he remains silent. His eyes bore into me, and I’m helpless to look away.

  Ollie giggles. “I’m gonna pick up my puzzles. Have fun with your staring contest. I hope you win, Miss Braelyn.”

  I blink my gaze off Brance, focusing on his son’s retreating form. He’s so damn perceptive. Can we really keep this a secret?

  Brance tugs on my belt loop. “Quick. Give me something good to tide us over. This might be a long-ass meal.”

  I bounce up on my toes, reaching his ear. “I read dirty romance novels.”

  He scoffs. “You already gave that up.”

  I tsk. “I never officially admitted it. You know what they say about assuming.”

  Brance buries his nose in my neck. “I wouldn’t mind making an ass out of you and me together.”

  I stretch, giving him more room to explore. “You’re bad.”

  “Oh, you have no idea.”

  “I might have a hint.”

  He bumps his hips into mine, giving me a feel of exactly what he’s suggesting. “You’re asking for trouble.”

  “Read chapter seventeen in that book,” I purr. “It’s a really good scene.”

  Brance leans back, his jaw slack. “Yeah?”

  “Hell yeah. There’s some great unconventional position inspiration.”

  His lips press against my temple. “In that case, you better get the recliner ready for later.”

  Brance

  Swing

  The memory of bending Braelyn over her storage crate flashes before my eyes. The high from yesterday hasn’t worn off yet. That doesn’t mean I won’t try to sneak a quickie later. It’s been two weeks of fucking her at every stolen opportunity. She’s extremely flexible and down for anything, in all ways that matter. Each hidden location has given us inspiration for trying something new. The sex is damn hot, and it still feels like we’re only scratching the surface.

  We’ve managed to keep our hookups a secret. But this could set off waves and rock our arrangement.

  I reach for the tickets and fan them out. There’s three, same as when I checked five minutes ago. The debate builds strength, two sides rioting and demanding to be heard. My mind is ripping in half. Is this crossing a line? Those boundaries I’ve been so damn adamant to keep.

  This won’t be pushing too far. It’s just one game. Ollie will be with us. There’s no potential of this being a date.

  Man the fuck up, I scold myself. She’s just a chick.

  One my son happens to love. A lot. Braelyn will agree to anything for him.

  That indisputable fact slams down a gavel. Decision made, I grab my phone and tap out a text.

  Me: Hey. What’re the chances you’d like to see the Blues play tonight?

  I hit send before finding ten reasons not to. The ball is safely lobbed into her field. I glare at my cell until the screen fades to black. Fuck. But what was I expecting? That she’s waiting to hear from me, desperate and ready at all times? Even I’m not that arrogant.

  Ollie darts down the stairs and runs toward me. “Did you ask her?”

  I point at my phone. “Just sent a message.”

  He plops onto the chair beside me, resting his chin on an open palm. We take turns staring at the dark screen. This isn’t constructive for either of us.

  “Do you want a snack?” I move to the fridge.

  “Cheese wheel, please.”

  I pull open the deli drawer. “Coming right up.”

  “Miss Braelyn will say yes.”

  I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or himself. I choose to let it slide, handing him the wax covered circle. Ollie tugs at the tabs, revealing the white Swiss inside. Half the chunk is gone with one bite. He happily munches away, humming the theme song to his favorite cartoon. The strain collecting at the base of my neck ebbs slightly. Crisis averted.

  “Shu mwe cull herm?”

  Ollie resembles a chipmunk storing food for winter. I barely make out his garbled words. With a tense chuckle, I shake my head.

  “No, buddy. We’ll wait for her to answer. Be patient.”

  I almost laugh at my own suggestion. That request is along the lines of asking him to hold off on watching the new episode of Paw Patrol. He gobbles down the remaining cheese, his throat bobbing in an effort to swallow it all.

  “But she’s not working. It’s Sunday. Why is she taking so long?”

  “Ollie, it’s been five minutes.”

  His lower lip sticks out. “That’s a long time, Daddy.”

  He’s bouncing in place, unable to sit still. My gut clenches while weighing the possibility of her turning us down. We didn’t plan far enough ahead. She probably won’t be interested or has other stuff to do. I look at my son who’s vibrating with excitement. He’ll be fucking crushed if she doesn’t join us. And if I’m being honest, he won’t be the only one.

  My phone vibrates on the counter and I snatch it up.

  Braelyn: Baseball? With you?

  The need to correct her flexes my fingers. I type in a blur, resting my hip against the table.

  Me: And Ollie. We have tickets for the game later.

  Braelyn: That could be fun. What time?

  Me: Game starts at seven. We usually get there an hour early.

  Braelyn: Okay. Is parking expensive?

  Me: Are you good with trains?

  Braelyn: Yes. No traumatic history there.

  Me: Meet us at the Light Rail station off 73rd and Oakville. Let’s plan on five-thirty. Want me to send a pin drop?

  Braelyn: Ah, smart. That’s okay, I found it. See you soon.

  “What’s she saying? She’s coming, right?” Ollie is leaning over so far, he might fall out of the chair.

  His lips twist in that adorable way I love. “You’re happy.”

  I straighten off the counter ledge. “Of course I am. We’re gonna watch the Blues play.”

  He shakes his head. “But we do that a lot. This is different.”

  I turn away before he can dissect my expression further. The kid sees far too much. All I
need is for him to start hounding me about marrying Braelyn again. He’s dropped the subject more recently.

  “Let’s get ready to go, buddy. Is your jersey clean?” I call to him over my shoulder.

  His footsteps follow close behind me. “I dunno.”

  I smirk. Searching for his shirt will keep him preoccupied. “Well, get looking.”

  “Kay, Daddy. I’ll find it.” A light huff precedes him taking off toward the laundry room.

  I climb the stairs for a quick shower, trying to ignore the pep in my step. I’ll never admit the effect that woman has on me. This shit will be taken to my grave.

  Between chasing Ollie all about and inconvenient thoughts of Braelyn, three hours fly by in an arch of rainbow colors. We’re decked out in our gear and ready to roll. Whenever she’s involved, it’s a snap to get my son in the car and going. We’re on the road in record time, practicing our hoots and hollers for rooting on our team. I might need to keep her around for reinforcement purposes. But that would add more complications than I can count. I don’t allow that idea to take root while steering my car around the final curve. The crowded parking lot appears in front of us.

  Ollie begins kicking his feet wildly, the passenger seat jerking from the force. “We’re almost there. I’m so excited. Do you think Miss Braelyn is already here, Daddy?”

  Anticipation for a Blues game has never been higher.

  I smile up at the rearview mirror. “Maybe, buddy. We’ll see.”

  After finding one of the last available spots, we get out and walk to the pay station. I spot Braelyn almost immediately. She stands out in the swarm of people milling about. A bright blue hat hides half her face, but I’d recognize that ass anywhere. Especially in white cutoff shorts. Twin braids dangle over her shoulders, a red tank covers her tits and torso. She’s wearing the perfect outfit for a ballgame.

  I have to force my feet to keep moving without stopping to gawk. Ollie tugs on my hand, dragging me faster.

  “Miss Braelyn!” His loud squeal carries above the rowdy groups of people between us.

  She turns toward us with a wide grin. My son ditches me in a flash and latches himself around her bare legs. Braelyn hugs him in return, bending low to whisper something in his ear. A piercing bolt strikes my gut. For a split second, I’m jealous of their open affection. Would it be so bad to crash my lips down on hers? Yes, it sure as hell would be.