Married to the Enemy: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Bliss River Book 2)

by Lili Valente

  I’m interrupted by the sound of a doorbell.

  I freeze.

  I’m not expecting anyone, and who would show up at six-thirty at night except…

  “Mom, I have to go,” I say, my heart pounding faster as I head for the door. “I think Nash is here. Call you soon.”

  I hang up, dropping my cell on the entry table as I rush for the front door, throwing it open to find…Joy Geary on the front stoop.

  My hope curdles faster than milk left out overnight.

  “Oh, hi.” I lift an awkward hand in greeting. “Nash isn’t here right now, but I—”

  “I know he’s not,” Joy cuts in. “He was at my house earlier. He asked me to stop by. Is this a good time?” She glances over my shoulder into the house.

  “Um, sure. Of course.” I step back, motioning her in. “Felicity’s just finishing up her supper. Can I get you hot tea or something?”

  “Yes, please,” Joy says in an almost pleasant voice. “Nash has some lemon tea I like.”

  “Great.” I bustle into the kitchen to put the kettle on, while Joy settles herself into the chair next to Felicity’s. My girl greets our new arrival with a happy squeal and Joy smiles perhaps the first, truly joy-filled smile I’ve ever seen on the woman’s face.

  Instantly, Nash’s mother becomes a hundred times more approachable.

  “Nash has your smile,” I say, the words spilling out before I have a chance to second guess them.

  Joy shifts her attention my way, her smile fading only the slightest bit. “He does. He also has my stubborn streak. That’s why I told him he had to go talk to your father, even though he didn’t want to. It’s not good enough just to get my head on straight,” she says, with a wink in Felicity’s direction that makes the baby giggle.

  I pause, too shocked to say anything for a moment.

  Was that a joke? Did Joy the joyless actually make a joke at her own expense?

  “My daughter called me yesterday,” Joy continues, her gaze still fixed on Felicity, taking a piece of peach the baby offers to share with a graciousness that makes my heart feel lighter. “Apparently my son is a miserable wreck without you.”

  And lighter still…

  “I know that’s at least partly my fault, and I’m sorry,” Joy says. “Mamas always think they know best, but…sometimes we’re wrong. I’m sorry I said those things to you the other night.”

  “It’s all right,” I murmur more than willing to forgive and forget.

  “No, it isn’t,” she insists. “I was scared Nash was going to get hurt, but I was the one who ended up hurting him. I should have taken the time to watch the two of you together before I jumped to conclusions. If I had, I would have seen that he’s so deep in love nothing I can say will change his mind about it anyway.”

  “I love him, too.” I pour tea for both of us and bring the mugs to the table. “I promise you I do.” I pull out a chair across from hers. “And I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make him happy. I realize that our marriage was sudden and we haven’t been together very long, but I know Nash and I are going to last.”

  Joy glances down, studying the steam rising from her cup, the intimacy of the conversation seeming to make her a little nervous. “I married my husband six weeks after we met. I was only sixteen, and my mama swore I’d be back home in a month, but Pete and I will have been married for thirty-two years this December. Sometimes, you just know.”

  I smile. “Yeah, you do.”

  We sit in silence for a few minutes, sipping our tea while Felicity devours all of her peach-cube dessert, and I ponder the best way to welcome Nash home tomorrow.

  Within minutes, I have an idea.

  “Joy, what’s Nash’s favorite kind of cake?”

  “Red velvet with cream cheese icing,” she says fondly. “He’s had that same cake for every birthday since he was eight years old.”

  Red velvet with cream cheese icing. I can work with that.

  And if I start tonight…

  By the time Joy and I finish our tea, I have an idea of what I’d like to do. By the time I walk her to the door, I’m mentally checking through my list of ingredients, and by the time Felicity’s ready for bed, the batter is ready to go into the oven.

  I stay up half the night baking, but I’m still up and out of bed early the next morning to do some last-minute shopping, determined to give Nash a welcome home he’ll never forget.

  I can’t wait to see him again.

  Even better, I can’t wait to hear him promise he’s home to stay.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nash

  Friday is the longest workday of my entire career.

  By the time three o’clock rolls around I’m checking the clock every five minutes, so anxious to be home I can’t sit still for more than a few seconds at a time.

  Mom said her visit with Aria went well, and I feel good about the conversation I had with Bob—we agreed to be mutually respectful, even if we might never be great friends—but I haven’t talked to Aria all week.

  I have no idea what she’s thinking.

  Maybe the time apart made her realize that she jumped into this relationship too soon. She might want to take a step back. She might have decided I’m an asshole for leaving and that she and Felicity are better off without me.

  I certainly feel like an asshole. All our time out accomplished was to make it abundantly clear I’m more hooked on Aria March than exercise and late-night ice cream combined.

  The thought of living the rest of my life without her is soul crushing.

  I’ve almost called her cell a hundred times, but I forced myself to stay away from the phone. She might still be thinking, and I should have the self-discipline to give her space to do that—especially considering I’m the one who thought we needed time apart.

  “Stupid asshole,” I mutter.

  “What’s that?” Kelly, one of the new IT staff, pushes through the glass door to my office. “Did you call for me, Captain?”

  “No, sorry,” I say. “Just…talking to myself. Any updates from your department?”

  “Yes. All good news. We’re making excellent progress,” Kelly says. “The new system should be up and running by next week.”

  “Good.” I glance at the clock over Kelly’s shoulder.

  Still another hour and a half to go.

  Damn it.

  “Anything else?” I ask, my irritation with the clock audible in my voice.

  “Yes, um… Well, everyone outside wants you to go home early,” Kelly says, pulling my focus back to her flushed face. “They say you’re being a huge grouch, and you should just start the weekend now.”

  “And they sent you in to deliver the message?” I scan the room full of desks outside my office, but not a single staff member or officer dares to meet my narrowed gaze.

  Everyone seems to be working especially hard this afternoon, in fact.

  “They said you wouldn’t yell at me because I’m new.” Kelly’s pitch rises slightly as she adds, “They were right, weren’t they? I’m not in trouble?”

  “You’re not in trouble,” I assure her, scooting my chair back. “But tell them I’ll be back Monday morning, and—grouchy or not—I’ll be staying the entire day. And if I find out anyone else left early today, heads will roll, got that?”

  “Yes, sir.” Kelly practically trips over her own feet in her haste to leave my office. “Have a good weekend, sir.”

  I don’t reply. I can’t make any predictions about the “goodness” of my weekend. Or of my life.

  The only way either is going to be tolerable is if Aria says yes.

  Yes, she’ll stay.

  Yes, she’ll forgive me.

  Yes, she’ll be mine. For keeps.

  She’s working an event until four today and won’t be back at the house until four-thirty, so I kill time by swinging into the flower shop. I plan to pick up the same flowers I bought her for the wedding, but the store is out of calla lilies. The prettiest
flowers left are the roses, but red roses seem cheesy and impersonal for some reason. I almost go with the white, but they remind me of my grandmother’s funeral.

  So, in the end I grab a dozen of the yellow and head for the house.

  I’m still early, but that’ll give me time to get the roses in a vase, get out of my holster, and clean up a little before Aria gets back.

  I pull into the driveway and jog up the front steps, so sure the house will be empty that I don’t bother knocking or ringing the doorbell. When the door slams shut behind me and Aria screams, I’m so startled I almost drop the roses and reach for my gun.

  “Nash?” Aria cries out.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” I say, my heart still racing.

  “Oh my god, you scared me!” she calls from the kitchen with a nervous laugh. “We finished up early, but I didn’t expect you for a half hour!”

  “Sorry,” I say, moving through the living room. “I didn’t think you’d be back until…”

  I round the corner into the kitchen and my words die in my mouth, shriveling up and floating away, leaving me with no clue what I’d been planning to say.

  It’s impossible to hold onto the capacity for speech with Aria looking like that.

  “You like?” she asks with a grin as she props one hand on her hip, emphasizing her curves.

  Her barely covered curves.

  I nod, my eyes flicking up and down, from her wild hair loose around her shoulders, to the white corset cradling her breasts, to the lace panties and garters holding up stockings that stretch down her long legs before disappearing into red stiletto heels.

  Red heels on Red.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything sexier.

  “I was going for wedding night take two, but I couldn’t find my white shoes,” she says, lifting one leg and twirling an ankle.

  The heel circles in the air; my mouth goes dry.

  “I’m all about the red,” I say.

  “I heard that about you.” She turns, treating me to a view of her lace-covered bottom that makes the air in the house suddenly feel too warm.

  “That’s why I made red velvet cake. I still need to ice a few flowers, but…” She glances back at me with an expectant look.

  It takes me a second to realize she’s pointing to something on the counter by the stove, and another, longer second, to force my eyes away from my insanely sexy wife.

  When I do, my jaw drops.

  “Is that…” I trail off, shaking my head in disbelief as I circle around the counter. “Did you make that?”

  “Of course, I made it,” she says, as if whipping up a three-tier wedding cake covered in paisley iced swirls with pearl centers is something she does every afternoon. “You think I’d let someone else make my wedding cake?”

  I stop. “You made us a wedding cake?”

  “We never had a wedding cake. We never had a wedding night, either. Now that we’ve decided to stay married, I figured we should have both, right?”

  My relief is so intense my knees buckle. I brace myself on the counter with one hand, taking deeper breaths, shocked by the depth of my gratitude, and so grateful I close my eyes and send out a quick prayer.

  A prayer of thanks for this second chance.

  This life. This woman.

  “We have decided to stay married,” she adds, a tremor in her voice. “Haven’t we?”

  “God, yes, we have.” I drop the flowers on the counter and reach for her, dragging her against me, hugging her so tight her breath rushes out. “Yes, yes, yes,” I whisper into the crook of her neck as she wraps her arms around me and holds me just as tight.

  “You had me worried for a second.”

  “I was so relieved I thought I was going to pass out,” I say, laughing as I kiss the top of her head. “I’m so sorry, Aria. I never should have left. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Very stupid,” she agrees, kissing my neck, making me shiver.

  “But it did convince me of one thing.” I pull back far enough to catch her gaze. “Without you, I’m no good to anyone. I don’t care what we have to go through to be together. I’m all in.”

  “I heard you talked to my dad,” she says. “Thank you for that. I know he isn’t easy.”

  “He isn’t,” I agree. “But we had a good talk, and we’re going to play nice from now on. You’re too important to both of us to do anything else.”

  “I’m a lucky woman,” she says, her eyes glittering with emotion.

  “No, I’m the lucky one. I love you so much, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it.” Without another word, I sweep her into my arms and start for the bedroom.

  “Wait!” she says. “I want to feed you cake! Wedding cake before wedding night. There’s an order to these things.”

  “I’m not hungry for cake.” I kick open the door to the bedroom, crossing to the bed in three steps. “You’re the only thing I want in my mouth right now, Red.”

  “Maybe cake can wait,” she says.

  I lay her on the bed, watching her unhook the front of that sexy-as-hell corset, baring her breasts as I make quick work of my uniform.

  I need her so damned much. I need her in my arms, her skin hot against mine. I need to feel her legs wrapped around my hips, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I slide inside her.

  She bites her lip, holding my gaze as I work open my belt. “I’ve missed you so much. Let’s never sleep apart again.”

  “Never again,” I promise, shoving my pants to the floor and stepping out of them as I join her on the bed. We come together with twin sounds of relief, her lips tasting every bit as sweet as I remember. “You’re way better than cake.”

  “You haven’t tasted it yet,” she says as I roll on top of her.

  “I don’t need to. Even if it’s the best red velvet on earth, you’re still better.” I kiss her again, murmuring against her lips, “The best.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” she says as she reaches between us, stroking my cock through my boxer shorts. “I’m so happy I get to keep being your wife.”

  “And I’m honored to be your husband.” I capture her hands and draw them over her head, pinning her wrists to the mattress. I don’t want to be distracted for this part, I want her to know what she means to me. “Aria March, I promise to love you and honor you and live up to every other vow I made the morning we were married. There’s nothing pretend about this for me anymore. You are the realest, most important part of my life, and you always will be.”

  She smiles, even as her eyes begin to shine. “I promise all of those things, too. For now, and always.” She sniffs. “Now will you please take my panties off? I think I might love you even a little bit more if I’m not wearing panties.”

  I kiss her, smiling against her lips as I curl my fingers over the top of the white lace, all too happy to oblige.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Aria

  His kiss, God, his kiss.

  Nash kisses are the best kisses. They set my heart on fire and make me ache with the most exquisite pleasure-pain I’ve ever known.

  Pleasure, because everything Nash does to me makes me feel oh-so-good, pain because close never seems close enough. Even with his skin hot against mine and my fingers tangled in his hair and his mouth everywhere I’ve been dying for him to kiss me, I still want more.

  I still want him closer.

  I want to breathe his breath, to feel our hearts beat in perfect rhythm.

  Most of all, I want him inside me—always.

  “Let’s have sex all the time,” I whisper as he pulls my panties down, tossing them to the floor before returning to my open arms.

  “I was going to suggest that, but I worried you’d think I was crazy.” He kisses me hard, groaning as his fingers slip between my thighs.

  “No, you’re not crazy.” My head falls back as he pushes a finger inside me, stroking in and out, making me squirm and lift into his touch. “You’re a genius.”
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  “People might judge us,” he warns, flicking his tongue across my nipple. “But I don’t care.”

  “Me, either.” My breath shudders out. “All I care about is you. Inside me. Right now.”

  “I want you ready,” he rumbles, kissing my other breast.

  “I’m so ready.” I spread my legs wider and circle my hips, taking his fingers deeper into where I’m so hot and wet. “Past ready. I’ve been dreaming about this all week, please, I—”

  He cuts me off with a kiss that makes my head spin and my heart squeeze in my chest, a kiss that turns the world upside down, making me so dizzy with wanting him that I don’t remember him taking off his boxers. I only know that suddenly he’s hot and hard against my thigh and I’m wrapping my legs around his hips to welcome him in.

  “Yes,” I whisper against his lips as he pushes inside me, his cock filling me inch by glorious inch.

  My lashes flutter as I wrap my legs around his waist. “Yes, this,” I moan as he glides deeper, until he reaches the end of me and his hip bones kiss my hip bones and the base of his cock nudges against my clit and he is finally close enough.

  Perfectly close.

  “This is where you belong,” I say, as we begin to move, coming together with a grace and ease that leaves no doubt we were made for each other.

  “Forever,” he promises as our gazes catch and hold.

  And soon the world fades away, until there’s nothing but the two of us, together and close and perfect. So perfect and sweet. Sweeter and sweeter, our bodies straining harder, faster, until we fall apart and put each other back together again.

  Hours later—after we’ve christened the shower, eaten cake off of each other’s fingers, and then decided eating cake off other body parts would be even more fun—I lie on the living room carpet with my head on Nash’s chest, too exhausted to move anything but the lazy fingers I trace through his dusting of chest hair. “I’m glad you don’t shave your chest,” I murmur.