by Piper James
“You clean up good, yourself,” I said, smiling at him.
Nate in regular, everyday clothes was too handsome for his own good. Nate in a tux? Holy hell. I’d caught myself drooling more than once.
“You like this look, eh?” he said, his face tightening the tiniest bit.
“I like every look on you,” I said, pressing my mouth to his.
I smiled as some of the tension drained out of him. Did he think I wanted him to start dressing in suits and ties? No fucking way. I loved his casual look, his calloused hands, and the smell of motor oil and sweat that permeated around him when he got home from work.
Home. We’d been living together for a month, and I’d never been happier.
“What’s that smile about?” he asked, pulling me closer.
“I’m just happy and in love,” I said.
“I love you, too,” he whispered.
He kissed me lightly, then withdrew. His face was tight with tension again, but before I could ask him what was wrong, he was pulling me across the dance floor toward the bar.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he walked around the bar and through the door that led to the back rooms.
“I need to talk to you. In private,” he said.
His voice was strained, his grip on my hand was tight, and his pace was almost too fast for me to keep up in these heels.
Panic gripped me as I let him drag me along. This couldn’t be good.
Nate
I knew I was sending all the wrong signals, but the nervous energy inside me was pulling me in ten different directions at once. I knew what I wanted, but going for it was the scariest fucking thing I’d ever done.
I pulled Ivy into the office that Jessa, as bar manager, now shared with her dad. I turned to face her, and the look of trepidation on her face nearly undid me. I jerked her forward, and her body slammed into mine. My fingers threaded into her hair as I devoured her mouth, kissing away any fear she might have had about my intentions in bringing her here, away from the others.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” she murmured between kisses, her fingers plucking at my belt buckle.
Oh, shit.
I stepped back quickly, refastening my belt as my eyes darted to the still-open door behind her. When I looked back at Ivy, her expression was filled with disappointment. I ran a hand through my hair and huffed a breath. I needed to keep my desire—and Ivy’s—under control.
For the moment, at least.
“I did. I mean, I do.” Fuck. “I do want to talk to you.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, her expression changing from disappointed to confused. “What is it, Nate?”
I swallowed thickly before clearing my throat. Keeping my eyes on Ivy’s face, I focused on my love for her to get me through this. Her strength, love, and compassion were unparalleled, and remembering that brought a sense of calm over me.
“Ivy,” I said, reaching out to take her hand, “making a home with you this last month has caused me to do some real soul-searching.”
Her breath hitched, and her entire body tensed up. “It has?”
“Yes,” I said. “Having you there, going to bed with you at night, and waking up next to you in the morning…it’s like a dream I never remembered having.”
Her hand tightened on mine, but her shoulders were still stiff, like she wasn’t sure if what I was saying was a good thing, or not. God, I hoped I wasn’t fucking this up.
“I love our life together,” I said quickly, and I could see some of the tension draining out of her. “I love you now, but what I’ve realized is that it didn’t just begin during our fake relationship.”
“What are you saying, Nate?” she asked when I paused to gather my thoughts.
“I’m saying that I fell in love with you when we first met. All those heated glances and flirty encounters hooked me and reeled me in like no one had ever done before. And when you…misunderstood what you saw, it broke my heart, but it did not diminish the love there. I loved you when you were distant and quiet. I loved you when you were spitting venomous words and hate. I may have spent my time with others, hoping to extinguish the flame I carried for you, but it never worked. You were always there, stopping me from taking anyone else seriously.
“You are why I’ve never had a girlfriend or settled down. Not because I’m some kind of player or afraid of commitment. I’m not afraid. I was just waiting for you.”
Tears streamed down her face, making my own vision blur with emotion. I ran a hand across my eyes to clear them, then reached into the pocket of my pants.
“I’m tired of waiting,” I said, pulling my hand free.
Holding my fist out, I slowly uncurled my fingers, revealing the ring I’d given Ivy at the beginning of our fake engagement. Her breath caught in her throat, and her fingernails dug harder into the hand she was now holding in a death grip.
“When I bought this for you,” I said quietly, “it didn’t feel like a sham. My palms were sweating and my heart was pounding, and I made the jeweler show me every diamond ring he had so I could pick the perfect one—not for my fake fiancée, but for you, Ivy.”
Her lungs fluttered back to life as she inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “You did?”
“I did,” I said. “And when I saw this one, I knew it was perfect. Just like you.”
I paused to let that sink in, then licked my lips. I waited until Ivy lifted her eyes from the ring to meet mine. Then I spoke from the heart.
“I love you, Ivy, and I want to spend the rest of our lives proving it to you. I want to be your rock, your companion, your lover, and everything in between. I want you to have my babies, and I want us to raise them with all the love and joy we can possibly give them.”
She started fully sobbing at those words, and panic lanced through me, making me curse myself and backtrack.
“If you don’t want kids, that’s okay, too.”
“I d-do,” she stuttered between breaths. “I do want kids.”
“Good,” I said, relief washing over me.
Inhaling deeply, I dropped to one knee. Ivy’s breaths were coming fast and furiously, and I could only pray it was a good thing.
“This time, it’s real,” I said, swallowing hard. “Ivy Marie Anderson, will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she breathed, laughing as I leapt to my feet and hugged her. “Yes, I will marry you, Nate.”
“I love you so much,” I said, slipping the ring back onto her finger…for the last time.
“I love you,” she replied, then pressed her lips to mine.
“Oh, God,” she said, pulling back in a panic. “We can’t say anything, Nate. This is Rafe and Jessa’s day. I don’t want to ruin it by making it about us. We’ll tell them later, okay? Maybe next week?”
“Too late,” I said, grinning.
I spun her around and pulled her back against my chest with arms wrapped around her middle. She gasped at the sight before her just before a loud cheer rang out with shouts of happiness and congratulations.
Crowded in the doorway were Rafe, Jessa, Karly, Felicia, and Lola—the people we cared most about. Lola had a tablet in her hand, with Ivy’s mom’s face openly weeping on the screen.
“What are you—? Mom?” Ivy said, sounding flabbergasted when she spotted the tablet.
“I wanted everyone we love to see me pledge my life to you, Ivy. Jessa insisted I should do it today because weddings make people feel romantic, you’d be less likely to laugh in my face.”
Jessa shot me a wink and smirked, making me chuckle. Then she shooed everyone away. They called out more best wishes as they turned to go, leaving only Jessa behind. As she grabbed the doorknob and started to pull the panel closed, she froze and cocked her head.
“This door has a lock. Use it.”
With one last wink, she was gone, the door firmly closed behind her. Ivy turned in my arms and wrapped her hands around my neck.
“You planned that whole thing?” she asked. At my nod, she added, “T
hey were there the whole time?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “Thank God, I came to my senses when you were trying to take my clothes off.”
I pulled away from her and strode toward the door. I turned the lock, then leaned back against the wood with a grin on my face.
“We’re alone now, Future Mrs. Walton.”
“We are,” she agreed, swaying her hips as she moved toward me. “Whatever shall we do?”
“I think,” I said, as she pressed her body against me, “we should practice making those babies we talked about.”
“Oh, yeah,” she groaned as my hands found her ass and kneaded it. “Lots of practice.”
Then she kissed me, her mouth igniting a fire in my blood. Just like she always did. Just like she always would.
Forever.
Thanks for reading Faking With the Enemy! I hope you loved it, and if you have a moment, can you please leave a review?
Want more Nate and Ivy? Sign up for my newsletter to receive a bonus scene: The Wedding
Follow Piper James on Facebook and join her reading group: Milestone Mischief Makers
Read ahead for a sneak peek of Karly and Max’s story: Teasing Mr. Moneybags
Teasing Mr. Moneybags
Chapter One
Karly
Have you ever had one of those dreams where you were so immersed, the sound of your alarm clock became a natural part of the landscape? Like the honking of a horn as you walked down a busy city street wearing Jimmy Choo heels while sipping a latte and getting catcalled by hot, bare-chested construction workers? Or the beeping of the timer on that bomb you were so valiantly trying to disarm to save an entire fishing village in Japan, including a hot, bare-chested martial arts master? Yeah? Me, too.
And today was the worst possible day for it to happen.
The temp agency I worked for set me up as a receptionist for Parker & Parker—Milestone, Georgia’s newest resident attorneys. It was my first day, and I overslept.
I knew being late wasn’t going to give Max and Marshall Parker the best first impression of me, but I wasn’t too worried. I’d just have to win them over with my sparkling personality. Easy-peasy.
But just in case, I grabbed my phone and texted my friend Jessa. She’d met the twin brothers a couple of months ago when they came to town to scope out office space. She’d gone to coffee with Max Parker to discuss the possibility of them renting out The Bullpen, her father’s bar, for a grand opening party for the law firm.
Me: Emergency!! How does Max Parker take his coffee?
I tossed my phone onto the counter and grabbed my toothbrush. I stared at my reflection as I brushed my teeth, groaning at the sight of my hair. I’d showered and gone to bed with a wet head last night, so my red hair stuck up all over, making me look like I’d walked through the eye of a tornado and lived to tell the tale…but only barely.
Spitting out the toothpaste, I grabbed a spray bottle of water and spritzed it all over my head. Scrunching the damp strands in my fingers, I tried to shape it into some semblance of order before giving up with a sigh.
I grabbed my phone and texted Jessa again.
Me: 911!!! Please answer me. It’s a matter of life and death.
Running back out into my bedroom, I dropped the phone onto the bed and pulled the outfit I’d picked out the night before from my closet. Leaning against the mattress for support, I pulled on the electric blue pencil skirt and smoothed the material over my hips. It was my favorite, hugging my curves in just the right way while making my ass look like a million bucks.
I paired it with a white, flowy, long sleeved shirt that was cut low enough to tease the slightest amount of cleavage. Sexy, but professional.
I toyed with the idea of skipping the panty hose, but it was January—too cold for bare legs. Besides, whatever tiny amount of color I managed to burn into my pale skin over the summer was long gone. So I took a few extra minutes to pull on some nude hose before sliding my feet into a pair of black heels.
My phone chimed, and I snatched it up to read the incoming message.
Jessa: Max took his black, but I’m not sure about Marshall. Please tell me you’re already at the office.
I glanced at the time on my phone and groaned. I was officially late, and I hadn’t even left my apartment yet.
Me: Thanks. Call you later.
I ran back into the bathroom and squirted some foundation into my palm. Rubbing my hands together, I smeared it all over my face. Archaic, I knew, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I swiped on some mascara and dusted a little blush on the apples of my cheeks before calling it good.
I was washing my hands when my phone chimed again.
Felicia: Jessa told me you’re running late on your first day. I hope they don’t fire you.
Me: Gee, thanks for the support, bestie.
Felicia and I had been friends since kindergarten, and I loved her, but her pep talks were shit. Usually, her responsible, dependable demeanor complimented my free-spirited, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants shenanigans. But this morning, I didn’t have the time nor the patience to deal with her superior work ethic.
Felicia: Hey, that was me being supportive. Hurry up, and make sure you have a viable excuse when you get there…like a fifteen car pile-up, or something.
I snorted. Like that would ever happen in Milestone. Two-lane blacktops spotted with law-abiding, slow-ass driving citizens weren’t really prone to massive accidents or traffic jams. Plus, with the efficiency of the gossip mill in this town, the brothers would probably know I overslept before I even stepped foot out of my apartment.
Gotta love small town life.
I locked up and ran to my car while silently praying to the god of stilettos that I wouldn’t trip in my haste. I made it safely to my piece of shit sedan—I couldn’t afford anything better with my measly temp-job pay—and slid in behind the wheel.
Chucking my bag into the passenger seat, I stuck the key in the ignition and twisted it. Nothing happened. I tried again. Still nothing.
“What the—” I murmured, trying a third time. “Mother fucker.”
Of all the days this hunk of junk could’ve died, it had to be today. Grabbing my bag, I climbed from the car and slammed the door closed with excessive force. Taking a few deep breaths, I ordered myself to calm down and think.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts. Ivy Anderson. She could help me. Her boyfriend was the best mechanic in Milestone.
“Hey, Karly. How’s your first day going?”
“I wouldn’t know. It started without me,” I mumbled, then cleared my throat. “Ivy, my car is dead, and I’m late. I don’t know what to do.”
“Hang on,” she said.
There was a shuffling noise before a much deeper voice came through the speaker.
“Karly, what’s happening when you try to start the car?”
“Nothing,” I said, my voice on the verge of being whiney. “It’s totally dead.”
“No clicking noise?”
“Nope.”
“Sounds like a dead battery. I can come test it later this morning. Just leave your key in the car. I’ll bring a new battery, just in case a jump start won’t work.”
“Thanks, Nate, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to pay for it,” I said. “I’ve probably lost my new job because I’m so late.”
“Rafe is a block away.” Ivy was back on the phone, giving me the lifeline I needed. “He’s coming to get you.”
“He drives like an old lady, so good luck,” I heard Nate laugh in the background.
“Thanks, Ivy,” I said. “And tell Nate thank you. I’ll leave the key in the cup holder.”
It’s not like anyone could steal this non-starting piece of shit anyway.
I’d just slammed the door closed for the second time when Rafe’s SUV pulled into the lot. I let out a sigh of relief and rushed forward, hopping in the car the second it stopped moving. Rafe greeted me as he backed into an empty spot and e
xecuted a perfect three-point turn.
“Thanks for coming,” I said. “You’re not going to be late, are you?”
I noticed he was wearing hospital scrubs, and I’d feel really shitty if some poor injured person in the emergency room didn’t get the help they needed because I overslept.
“No, I just got off. Had to work a double, so I was there all night.”
He looked fresh as a daisy and fine as hell. I’d look like a deranged hyena if I stayed up working all night. Jessa was one lucky woman. She and Rafe had gotten married a couple of weeks ago and were expecting their first child in the summer.
“Can we stop by the coffee shop?” I asked as we pulled into town.
“Aren’t you already late?” he asked, arching one black brow in my direction.
“I’m hoping fresh coffee will butter them up enough that I won’t get fired on the spot.”
Rafe didn’t respond but pulled into a parking space in front of Milestone’s only coffee shop. With a promise to be right back, I ran inside, plowing right into someone who was trying to exit. I managed to twirl away unscathed by spilled coffee—a great feat considering the height of my heels—and called out an apology before hurrying to the counter.
I ordered three black coffees, asking the barista to include a bag of sweeteners, creamers, and stir sticks. I tapped my toe as I waited, looking back toward the door. Whoever I’d run into was gone.
Good thing, too. Because I didn’t have time to listen to someone bitch at me about what was obviously an accident. Sure, it was all my fault, and on any other day, I would’ve offered a more solemn apology and a replacement coffee.
But not today. I was late, and every second counted.
Get your copy of Teasing Mr. Moneybags today!
Acknowledgments
Thanks to everyone who loved Playing With the Doctor and couldn’t wait to get their hands on this book. You made it so easy to write, knowing you love these characters as much I do.