Boyfrenemy

by Sosie Frost

  We couldn’t have PETA picketing the offices again. I had to get this guy out of the building and quick. “No. No people or animals will be harmed in the planning of the fair. Does anyone have any idea how to remove the cats from the fairground that doesn’t involve a pipe hooked into a truck’s exhaust system?”

  And, of course, he answered.

  That rumbling voice, the sensual boom of confidence, might have coiled inside my tummy had his last conquest not taken root there.

  Julian Payne volunteered with a casual smirk. “I can take care of a pussy…cat.”

  Hell no. I wasn’t in the mood. Not to laugh. Not to joke.

  And not to kick his ass out of my damn meeting.

  “Take five, everyone,” I said.

  Alice didn’t need to ask. Roy leaned in. “She said, survive everyone.”

  Alice agreed. “Everyday’s a blessing, thank you Lord.”

  Gretchen poked Dan’s chest. Ambrose gave a growl. “You better watch yourself.”

  “No bloodshed.” I sent her toward the cookies I’d set out for the meeting. “And don’t let the rest of the committee leave…or fall asleep…or worse.”

  Julian waited for me, though I was not having this conversation in the middle of the meeting room. He followed me to the hall, but I couldn’t castrate him there either.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear.”

  “You did. But then I realized you’re pregnant.”

  “Took you long enough.” I shushed him with a fierce growl. “I don’t need special treatment.”

  “No, you probably need to be institutionalized.”

  “Go home, Julian.”

  “You need help, princess.”

  I grimaced. “I don’t.”

  “You expect the Geese Police and half of Sunny Acres to get this fair up and running?”

  He’d seen me nearly naked and had knocked me up. No sense in lying. “A girl can dream.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “Why the hell would you want to help me?”

  He pointed at my stomach. “Because you had to make it complicated.”

  “Me?” I gritted my teeth. “This isn’t complicated, cowboy. This is very easy. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  “I know you’re attracted to me—”

  “You are such an arrogant—”

  “—But that doesn’t mean I can’t help. And I will, if only to make sure you’re not stressed.”

  I huffed. “Stressed? You raise my blood pressure.”

  “But I also drop your panties. It balances out.”

  His stupid sexy grin jumbled me even more than before—the sudden influx of hormones terrible for a girl’s concentration. I breathed deep, regretting the sun-kissed scent of him.

  “I’m in enough trouble already because of you,” I said. “Don’t ruin this for me. You’ve already compromised my job. I won’t have you ruin this fair or blab about the baby or break anyone’s heart…”

  Shoot.

  Wrong words.

  Wrong wrong wrong.

  Julian laughed. “So, I’m a heart-breaker now?”

  “More like a uterus-stuffer.”

  “I’m still amazed a tease like you let me get that far.”

  “Don’t get smart.”

  “Then stop being a brat and let me help,” he said. “I’ll be at the fairgrounds tomorrow morning. You can either bring me a cup of coffee or an approved building permit application.”

  “You got lucky once—don’t push it.”

  But he would.

  He’d push, prod, and fuck me over just to watch me squirm.

  “See you tomorrow, princess.”

  Damn it.

  Why was he so irritating? So crass?

  So unbelievably sexy?

  Julian might have been the cockiest son of a bitch in the world, but he was also the smoothest. That made him entirely too dangerous for a girl like me and exceptionally destructive to the life plan I’d meticulously maintained for the past ten years.

  I was already pregnant. Fumbling through the remnants of my organized plan. Attempting to revise and re-order the next twenty years of my life. The last thing I needed was some schoolgirl crush on the bully who pulled my pigtails and rutted me against the wall.

  I would not get charmed by Julian Payne. I’d cross my arms tighter than I’d squeeze my legs just to protect my heart.

  He’d already gotten inside me once.

  No sense letting him stay.

  Chapter Eight

  Julian

  For a man to earn the right to become a father, he had to endure two cat bites to the ankles, a chest full of scratches, and an indeterminate amount of bruises and puncture wounds.

  God only knew what it’d take for a man to earn the right to build a damned barn.

  “You are such an idiot,” Micah said for the tenth time. She had a tender touch—I’d felt it before. Just chose not to wield it now. “Look at your back!”

  I sat cross-legged, Neosporin at the ready. “Want me to flex?”

  “You’re mincemeat.”

  “At least I look good.” I winced as she dunked me in rubbing alcohol.

  “Great,” she sighed. “The infection’s spread. You’re delirious already.”

  Delirious…or insane?

  What the fuck had made me think wrangling cats was the appropriate way to apologize to the woman carrying my child—a woman I simultaneously hated and desired. Hallmark didn’t make cards for that. Nothing said You’re the sexiest woman on earth, and I’d be trying my damnedest to get in your pants if you didn’t annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

  “This was the stupidest thing you could’ve done,” Micah said.

  I clenched my fists as she dug into the jagged wounds with a harsh scrub. “Go on and bitch. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “You tried to catch cats in a net.”

  “I did it for you.”

  “Don’t you dare blame me for this, Julian Payne. I didn’t tell you to play rabies roulette with the local wildlife.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She didn’t believe me. “Where were you going to put the cats once you caught them?”

  I smirked. “Well, I don’t know. If I had a barn, maybe I could keep them there.”

  “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

  “You’re never gonna give me the barn, are you?”

  I peeked over my shoulder, catching sight of the most beautiful woman in the world framed in the setting afternoon sun. Hues of pink and purple cascaded through the sky behind her like a damn halo.

  Too bad it couldn’t hide her horns and pitchfork.

  Micah grabbed a fresh towel but poured too much alcohol over the cloth. She squeezed it in her hand, but she’d hate that in a second. One sniff, and her nose crinkled. She flung the paper towel into the grass and struggled to take a clean breath.

  Wasn’t the first time I’d feared she’d throw up on me.

  Maybe that would get me the barn.

  Every smell seemed to bother her—food, flowers, the fairgrounds. Surprised the scratches didn’t fuck with her, but she probably enjoyed that, sadist that she was. Micah was good at causing me pain.

  She’d also offered me the pleasure of a lifetime.

  But it wasn’t worth dipping my dick in that crazy. Especially now that I understood just what a little brat she was. Pregnant or not—woman of my dreams or not—Micah wasn’t a lady, she was a viper.

  “Why don’t you let Gretchen handle the rest of the cats?” Micah asked. “You know, while you catch up on ten years of vaccinations.”

  “Laugh it up.”

  “Certainly hope that’s not how you handle every pussy…” Her voice dropped. “cat.”

  “You tell me, princess. Did I make you purr?”

  “Yowl maybe.” She washed the rest of my back, her fingertips tracing the line of surgical scars along my spine. She didn�
��t ask. I didn’t explain. “Now, of course, I’ll need a box in the closet to have my litter.”

  “Our litter.”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” she said.

  “Should talk about it now.”

  “Here?”

  Why not? The field was empty—of people and most of the cats. Gretchen had taken the feral monsters to the shelter. The rest of the fair committee was lucky to have a pulse and luckier to make it to the field. They huddled in the parking lot discussing grandkids and aching joints.

  My participation wasn’t just voluntary now. Micah couldn’t do this alone. The stress wasn’t good for the baby. My baby.

  I’d been blindsided by linebackers and defensive ends, but the kid was the one blow that kicked me in my ass.

  Micah sighed. “I’ve scheduled some time to discuss the baby after the fair.”

  “You scheduled it?” I’d knocked up a fruitcake. “Micah, be real here.”

  “I am,” she said. Her touch softened as she patched my shoulder with some gauze. The cuts hurt a hell of a lot less when she touched them. “We’re both still shocked. Let’s worry about the fair first.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then…we’ll figure it out. What do you want me to say, cowboy? I’m pregnant. It’s yours. I’ve made absolutely no contingency plan to prepare for this sort of event, so I’m…improvising as I go.” Her words hollowed. “I’ve never…not known what to do before.”

  “Is that why you sent your father to the farm?”

  Never anger a woman wielding rubbing alcohol. The bottle spilled over my back. I swore. She gasped, gagged, and rolled away.

  Her voice cracked. “My father?”

  And now she wanted to play innocent? “You didn’t tell me Daddy was a big-time land developer.”

  “Jules—”

  “He came to see the farm. Offered me a pretty good price for it.”

  Micah bit her lip. “What did you do?”

  “Kicked his ass off my property.”

  I rose to my feet. Mistake. My back always hurt, but the two dozen scratches, abrasions, and bruises didn’t make moving any easier. The pain pissed me off even more.

  “So, what was your plan, princess?”

  Micah crossed her arms, unwilling to swap out her pretty little professional dress for a pair of jeans, even when the rain had muddied the field.

  “What do you mean my plan? What did my father say?”

  A lot of bullshit, and only some truth. “Said he thought my property would be a good place for some new developments. Said it’d be a tough job to get the farm running again, especially with the current zoning regulations.” I cocked my head at her. “Starting to understand why.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Tell me again why you’re refusing to approve my barn? Why you’d let my family’s business go under?”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “Think it’s because your father will make bank on my land once he develops it into a cushy subdivision?”

  I’d insulted Micah before, but she’d never silenced in utter contempt. She spoke through gritted teeth, her words sharp. “Be very careful, cowboy. You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

  Wasn’t that convenient? First, I’d impregnated her. Then I discovered all the bullshit and lies.

  I shrugged. “I’ve learned enough. You’re corrupt.”

  She lurched away like I’d slapped her. Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t back down.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she hissed.

  “Seems simple enough to me. Harass an innocent man off his land. Buy him off. Rake in the profit.”

  “First off, you are not innocent,” she said.

  I shrugged. “Oh, right. I forgot. The mud. The bar. The bees. The baby. All my fault.”

  “Don’t you pretend like you’re some martyr, cowboy.”

  I didn’t have to pretend anything. If the world wanted to kick me in the teeth, it’d have to wait until this woman was done crushing my balls. I didn’t need this irritation. Didn’t need the pain in my ass. Didn’t need to worry about the damn harpy, no matter how fucking gorgeous she was.

  But thinking with my cock had gotten us in enough trouble. I’d tame the lust, but I worried more about the crushing ache in my chest. Not often a man hoped for a heart attack. Last thing I needed was to let any sort of feelings for Micah interfere with a perfectly good argument.

  “I did my part—again,” I said. “Came here. Took care of the cats for you. Tried to help with the fair. Just remember that when I give you and Daddy the counteroffer.”

  I hobbled away. Didn’t surprise me that she followed, bumbling over the uneven ground in heels. Wasn’t enough that she’d pissed me off. Now I had to worry she’d break one of her perfect legs in a gopher hole.

  “Why do I even bother with you?” Micah matched my strides, practically beating me to my truck. “I don’t know what my father said to you, I don’t know what he offered you, and I don’t know what he plans to do with your land, but leave me out of it.”

  “Bet you’ll approve the houses on that lot.”

  Her hand slammed on the truck’s door, preventing me from getting in. “Not if I can help it.”

  She brushed a lock of hair from her face. Down today. The tight curls brushed her dark cheek like a delicate hand. Her full lips pouted, ready to punish, but better to kiss.

  “Move,” I ordered.

  She refused. “Listen to me, Julian Payne. There’s only one man I hate more in this world than you—and I call him Dad.”

  “I don’t know, princess. You’re awfully friendly with me.”

  “Call it temporary insanity.”

  “I call it unrepentant lust.”

  “Oh, there’s repentance. There’s a lot of repentance. And if I wasn’t getting sick on communion crackers, I’d make sure all of this was forgotten.”

  “Don’t you mean forgiven?”

  “No. Forgotten. If I could, I’d wipe it from my memory.”

  I leaned against the truck, trapping her with an outstretched arm between the door and my body. She didn’t move, but she did hiss a quick, wispy breath. I liked that. Shouldn’t have tolerated it, but some things heated a man hotter than the afternoon sun.

  “So, you do remember our night,” I whispered.

  “Yeah. I’m the one who got the souvenir.”

  Micah didn’t invite it, but I reached for her. My fingers brushed over her flat stomach.

  No bump. No difference. Not even a little hint to what made this woman such a complicated pain in my ass. Just heated skin. She looked up at me, bashful under her thick, dark eyelashes. She tensed, but the nervous bite to her lip destroyed me.

  Fuck me, this woman. Every part of my body hardened. Cock. Head. Bones. Her warmth seared my hand. Just a touch, and I was lost. Just the thought of this woman carrying my baby…

  I’d gotten her pregnant. Filled her up. Rocked with her against the wall. Emptied myself entirely into her hot, quivering tightness.

  It was a mistake. It was an accident. It was a life-changing dilemma.

  And it was the hottest, sexiest, most cock-torturing realization of my life.

  I’d taken her once, invading her core as she conquered my mind. And now nothing would ever compare to that moment, that split-second animalistic pounding that had left my baby in her belly.

  I had to taste her again. Feel her again. Fuck her again.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  Sex wouldn’t solve anything. Only piss her off. Make us more desperate for each other.

  Getting involved with this woman was a disaster. Micah was as beautiful as an angel, as sexy as a devil, and I was the asshole trapped between heaven and hell.

  I never should have let her speak.

  Instead, I got lost in her words.

  My hand never left her belly. She didn’t shift away.

  “Look…” Micah pressed
into my fingers. “I don’t know what my father said to you, but I’m sorry he went to the farm. Believe me. I have nothing to do with him, nor do I want him in my life.”

  I hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

  “Do you want my professional opinion?”

  Anything to keep her talking. The instant her lips stopped moving was the moment I’d claim them with my own.

  “It’s a conflict of interest for my father and I to discuss potential business arrangements,” she said.

  “Cut the bullshit.”

  Her eyebrow arched. “The deal is bad. He’ll undercut you on what the land is worth. He only wants to develop the property because he thinks Butterpond could be an up-and-coming suburb of Ironfield. Any of the homes he’d build would be of shoddy construction. He’ll cut as many corners as he thinks I’ll forgive because my father is nothing but a cheat, a fraud, and a bastard who cares only about himself.”

  Damn. I edged closer, loving the heat teasing from her body. “You don’t get along?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Do I need a reason?”

  “You probably have your reasons for everything categorized and laminated.”

  She didn’t deny it. “He treated my mother poorly. Divorced her when I was twelve.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, it started when he knocked up my mother, a stranger on a one-night stand. Then she insisted on getting married.”

  I tensed. Shit. “Micah—”

  “They fought. They hated each other. Resented each other. Resented me. And, when the hostility and fights and aggression got to be too much…” Her eyebrows rose. “When the loveless, meaningless marriage drove them both to depression and adultery, they decided to split. My mother moved to France, and I stayed with my father.”

  Fuck.

  No wonder she’d been so resistant to marriage. I softened my voice. “You didn’t have a good childhood?”

  “Who did?”

  Most people? Hell, mine wasn’t bad. Worked the farm, went to school, got the girls, made it to the professional league. What wasn’t to love?

  Micah sighed. “Honestly, I have no idea why you’re working so damn hard to build this barn. I can’t fathom trying to save my childhood home.”