Enemy Dearest

by Winter Renshaw

  But if he knew what I’m really gaming for—if he let me explain—he’d be proud.

  There’s no one on this earth he hates more than Rich Rose. And there’s no one in the world Rich Rose loves more than his precious, innocent, untouched daughter.

  Oh, sweet Rose girl—the dirty things I’m going to do to you …

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sheridan

  * * *

  “Adriana’s dad has a fully restored ’69 Cadillac DeVille in the garage. Chalice gold firemist …” I tell him in an attempt to steer the conversation into a more neutral direction. Plus, my legs ache from sitting in these hard chairs. And I could use a change of scenery. “Maybe you’ve seen it in the annual Fourth of July parade? It’s basically my dream car …”

  “I’ve never been to a parade in my life.”

  “Really?” It never occurred to me that people like that existed. I can’t count the number of memories I have of my parents plopping lawn chairs by the curb and telling me to wave at the funny-looking floats that passed as they helped me gather the candy tossed in our direction. Such a simple, joyful childhood experience. I almost feel sorry for him. But I’m sure the other joys and privileges of his childhood more than made up for it.

  “You want to go check it out?” I point to the garage. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind as long as we don’t touch anything.”

  “You really have no qualms about trespassing, do you?”

  “It’s not trespassing.” I swat his hand. “Plus, her dad loves me. I think he’d be thrilled that someone’s showing off his car. He spent years sourcing original parts and rebuilding it. He’s told me about it so many times, I could probably recite it for you, verbatim.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “Come on.” I wave for him to follow. I don’t care if he is or isn’t a car buff. I’m obsessed with this thing. I once teased Adriana’s dad about adopting me so I could inherit it—a morbid request in retrospect.

  August follows me down the deck stairs, toward the freestanding garage at the back of the house. The side door is unlocked, and I reach up and tug on the string, giving us just enough light to help us navigate around the single stall garage without bumping into the antique beauty.

  “He named her Barbara-Ann.” I chuckle, peeling back the canvas cover. “Don’t ask me why.”

  “Probably after an ex-girlfriend.”

  “Don’t tell Adri’s mom that …”

  He makes his way to the trunk and drags his middle finger against the length of the rear fender, a move my body suddenly decides is oddly sexual. For whatever reason my brain fixates on his hands—his fingers inside me. And his lips…have they always appeared so pillow-soft? Not too full, not too narrow. For a moment, I imagine them pressed against mine, silky and burning hot, followed by the wet slip of his tongue piercing through.

  Heat flushes my ears.

  Maybe it’s the beer.

  Or the fact that we’re truly alone right now.

  Or that, for the first time all week, I’m able to relax.

  Or the fact that I’m locked in a gaze with a man who wants to change my entire life (and my mother’s) in exchange for one night with me.

  If I sell him a little piece of my soul, I’ll get priceless peace of mind in return.

  That alone should be reason enough.

  But I’m in no condition to make that kind of decision.

  And it certainly isn’t happening tonight.

  I slip my hands into my back pockets and drag in a slow, cleansing breath. I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to slow down. If he wants this enough, he’s not going anywhere.

  “So, what do you think?” I teeter on the balls of my feet, definitely buzzing. “Of the car, I mean.”

  “It’s gorgeous.” He makes his way to the driver’s side, pops the door open, and climbs inside. Adjusting the mirror with one hand, he runs his other palm along the skinny black steering wheel. “Look at this. Keys are in the ignition.”

  Adri’s dad would never. But in any case, I lean over the passenger door to check.

  “Liar.”

  “Get in,” he says.

  “What? Why?”

  “Just humor me.”

  I prop the passenger door open and slide inside, scooting across the buttery leather Adri’s dad has worked so hard to condition, and ensuring I don’t track a single grass blade onto the floor mat.

  “If you could be anywhere in the world, right now, where would you want to go?” he asks. “Anywhere at all.”

  “That’s a hard question …”

  “Not at all.”

  “Maybe not for you. You have go-anywhere-in-the-world money …”

  “This isn’t about money, Rose girl. Just tell me where you want to go.”

  “I don’t know?” What is it about on-the-spot questions that turn your mind into a blank slate? “Portland, Maine. I’ve always wanted to go there. But in the fall. I guess maybe Charleston? Or Savannah? What about you?”

  “Here,” he says without hesitation. “I’m right where I want to be.”

  I roll my eyes and pretend to gag myself with my finger. “I knew you were extra, but I had no idea you were capable of being this cheesy.”

  “You asked, I answered. Just telling the truth.” He watches me from his periphery. “You intrigue me.”

  I roll my eyes again. Harder this time. “Bull. August, let’s be clear. Lines like this don’t work on me. If you’re trying to flatter me, it’s having the opposite effect. I’m cringing. Like, head to toe.”

  “I mean it.” He angles his body toward mine, his left arm resting on the driver’s door. “My entire life you’ve been this enigma, this … forbidden fruit, for lack of a better term. And honestly, I didn’t give two shits about you until you walked into my life, and now you’re all I can fucking think about.”

  My mouth runs dry because I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever been obsessed with me, nor has anyone told me I’m all they can think about.

  He exhales, staring straight ahead. “It’s fucked up, I know. This level of obsession.”

  Silence settles between us.

  “Aren’t you curious about me? Have you ever thought about me?” he asks. “Wondered about me?”

  “There was never a reason to.”

  Reaching across the bench seat he brushes hair from my forehead and tucks it behind my ear. The sheer sensation of his fingertips against my face sends a spray of goosebumps down my arm.

  “But what about now?” he moves a few inches closer. “Now that we’ve officially met, do you ever think about me? Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if I kissed you?”

  A fluttery, arrhythmic sensation spreads across my chest as my breath hitches.

  “You’re scared. Is that it?” He leans away but only slightly. “Maybe I should describe it for you?”

  I lick my lips, focusing on the Cadillac emblem protruding from the hood.

  “Or better yet, I’d be happy to demonstrate.” He comes in closer again. Cupping my jaw, he angles my face toward him until our eyes meet. His attention drops to my lips for a second before returning. “Maybe you’re a hands-on learner.”

  I try to swallow but I can’t.

  I try to speak but the words are stuck.

  “I’d take it slow.” August leans in until the heat of his mouth almost grazes mine. We’re not touching. Not yet. “Let the anticipation build. That’s important.”

  The faint remnants of his expensive aftershave fill the air around us. Leather and darkness. The scent of a man much more experienced than he should be at nearly twenty. His nose rubs against mine, soft and teasing as his thumb runs along my jaw line and down the side of my neck.

  Abandoning my mouth, he presses his lips into the soft spot below my ear next, peppering kisses lower, lower still, until he reaches the top of my shoulder, and then he pushes the fabric of my blouse aside to taste my skin.

  My sex throbs and my stomach caves with each deep br
eath. He works his way to the other side of my neck and for a moment, I almost forget to breathe. When he’s finished, he lifts my wrist to his mouth and kisses the tender underside, making my pulse quicken.

  I’ve fooled around with guys before, but none of them took their time. None of them kissed me or touched me solely for my pleasure. The best they could do was a sloppy make out session with a side of fully clothed grinding.

  “Curious yet?” He stops to glance up at me. “Want to experience the real thing?”

  My jealous lips are on fire, aching from abandonment. I try to speak, but I’m quite certain whatever words come out of my mouth would be incoherent.

  “Safe to say that’s a yes?” His mouth closes in on mine in one slow and endless move. It isn’t a frenzied crash, it’s reckless euphoria.

  I don’t exist on this plane anymore.

  In this oil-scented garage.

  In this buzzing, live-wire body.

  I’m somewhere else entirely.

  I never thought being the object of someone else’s fantasy would be a thing for me—but this is … incinerating me from the inside out.

  August’s tongue parts my lips until it dances with mine, and in one slick move, he pulls me into his lap and takes my spot on the passenger side. Cupping my face in both hands, he guides my face away until our eyes hold and everything in this moment pauses, suspended in time.

  “You’re making the right decision.” His eyes glint, silver with a side of wickedness. And he reaches down to lean the seat back.

  His hardness presses between my legs as I straddle him, and his grip moves to my hips, pressing me down so I can feel more of him. The want in his eyes is undeniable, like a wild animal seconds from his feast.

  He begins to say something when I place my palms on his chest and sit up.

  “I don’t want to do it here, like this,” I say. “Not in Adri’s dad’s car. Not in a garage. Not when I taste like beer and someone could walk in on us at any second.”

  This isn’t remotely how I want my first time to be.

  August exhales, angling his head. “So, you want … what? A hotel room? Champagne? Flowers? Some fake romantic shit to make it special?”

  “I don’t want fake romantic shit. I just don’t want to do it here.”

  I’ve successfully killed the mood—but I don’t suppose it matters since this isn’t happening tonight anyway. He can kiss his deadline goodbye. I need more time to decide if I’m going to do this anyway.

  I climb off of him and into the driver’s seat. He adjusts the bulge in his jeans.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Of course you are.” He’s annoyed at me, and I get it. I got his hopes up. Any hot-blooded male would be disappointed right now.

  I lean against the back of the seat, head resting on my hand. “Look. This past week has been one of the most emotionally draining weeks of my life. I’ve slept maybe a total of eleven hours, if that. And your offer is extremely generous. I’m tempted, yes. I just don’t want to jump into anything crazy right now. I want to think about it a little more. I need more time.”

  He says nothing, simply stares at me with an expression I couldn’t possibly try to read.

  “I’m going to head in.” I sit up and reach for the door handle, no longer willing to bask in the awkwardness of this moment.

  “Wait.”

  I turn back to him. “Yeah?”

  “You’re staying here tonight, right?”

  I nod.

  “You’re not going to get any sleep in there. It’s too fucking loud.” Slipping his hand softly around my wrist, he guides me closer, until I’m nestled under his arm, my cheek against his chest.

  It’s strange at first—falling asleep in someone’s arms.

  But then we settle into some kind of rhythm, our breaths syncing and our bodies giving off just enough warmth to keep us comfortable. Outside, the evening crickets chirp and faint pop music plays from the house, leaking through old windows and getting lost in the cooling night breeze.

  Within seconds, my eyelids grow heavy and the night fades away as I drift off in the arms of my enemy dearest.

  Chapter Fifteen

  August

  * * *

  “You stayed,” she says the next morning with a sleepy smile. She sits up, stretching her arms overhead, and I move for the first time in fucking hours.

  I watched her sleep—all night, studying the way her mouth twitched into half a smirk when she was dreaming, inhaling the sugar-sweet scent of her shampoo as it radiated off the top of her warm head. And as the sun came up and flooded the tiny garage with warm light, she looked like a goddamn Disney princess. If she wasn’t a Rose, I might have allowed myself to feel some kind of way …

  I huff. “You think I’d leave you passed out in some garage?”

  If she were anyone else, then yes. Yes, I would do that. One hundred fucking percent.

  But I’m so fucking close to sealing this deal.

  “How’d you sleep?” I ask. If I’m being honest with myself, there’s something sexy about this undone version of her, with her hair in her face and her makeup rubbed off (on my shirt), all fresh-faced. I’m not used to seeing girls like this—sans perfection. It’s refreshing.

  “Like a million bucks actually. Best sleep I’ve had in forever …”

  Just imagine how she would’ve slept after the triple orgasm I was going to give her … fingers, tongue, and cock—my personal forte.

  Ah, well. Soon enough.

  “Oh, geez.” She yanks her phone from her back pocket. “Adri was texting me all night. I forgot to tell her we were out here.” Climbing out of the car, she says, “I should head in and talk to her—assuming she’s up.”

  “You have my number.”

  Fighting the tiniest flicker of a smile, she stops in her tracks by the door and says, “I do.”

  I re-cover the car, show myself out, and drive home.

  Sheridan Rose is a sweet girl. Trusting. Naïve. And she doesn’t deserve any of this. In fact, all of this would be a million times easier if she were some snooty little priss who needed the attitude fucked out of her. Instead, she’s a walking, talking heart of gold with perfect C-tits and honest intentions.

  Steeling myself, I roll down my window, crank my music, and drown out the conscientiousness who decided to make a surprise appearance out of fucking nowhere. I can’t get soft about this. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity and I’m seizing the fuck out of it.

  It’s a shame she has to pay the price her father refused to pay.

  My father always said everything in life trickles down. All the good, all the bad.

  The key is controlling the way it falls.

  I can’t change the fact that my mother’s no longer here, but I can even the score. Rich has caused us pain and suffering for the last twenty years.

  I’m simply returning the favor.

  I pull into my driveway ten minutes later and catch a whiff of Sheridan’s subtle-sweet perfume on my shirt after rolling up the windows. I’ll admit, there was something peaceful about holding her while she slept. Something serene about sitting with someone and doing nothing but breathing. The outside world didn’t exist. I couldn’t so much as move to grab my phone from my pocket to piss away some time. I simply held her—something I’ve never done with anyone before. The strangest part of it all, was that it wasn’t torturous.

  Dare I say I enjoyed it?

  I even let my mind wander down a path or two—out of sheer boredom, of course. Imagining a future with her, a relationship, being one of those couples.

  Regardless, it doesn’t matter.

  We don’t have a future—we have a score to settle.

  And then we’re done.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sheridan

  * * *

  “Sher, you mind doing the dishes this time?” Dad asks as we finish breakfast Saturday morning. Normally it’s a team effort. He washes and I dry. But the bags under his e
yes are heavier today, the circles a shade darker than usual. He worked last night, but this isn’t the look of physical exhaustion. This is something else, I know it. “I’m going to see if I can’t grab an extra hour of sleep before I go in again.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got it.” I don’t look him in the eye. I haven’t been able to all week. Every time I try, I get nauseous. Or I end up biting my tongue to keep from vomiting words and accusations all over him. I’m not ready to confront him. I need more evidence or else he’ll gaslight me with that fatherly smile of his as he pats me on the head and calls me “kiddo.”

  “How was the sleepover last night?” Mom asks as I fill the sink with soapy water. “What’d you girls do?”

  “We watched a movie,” I lie, wincing. “That new one with Robert Pattinson. And we ordered pizza. Stalked her ex online. The usual.”

  I hate lying to her, I do. But in this case, telling the truth would do more harm than good. No point in upsetting her.

  She chuckles. “Oh, you girls …”

  “So …” I draw in a long breath as I rinse bits of scrambled eggs off a floral plate. “I know this is kind of random, but I was thinking … and I leave for college in a few weeks.”

  “Yes, sweetheart. I’m well aware.”

  “Adriana said there’s this charity in town, where you can apply for these grants or something for home health aides …” I’m a terrible liar. “I don’t know all the details. She said her grandma got into the program a couple years ago.”

  I’m going to hell with a one-way ticket.

  “Oh? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Her voice inches up, as if her curiosity has been piqued. “You’d think the doctors would’ve said something about that years ago?”

  I rinse the plate under a stream of cold water before placing it in the drying rack. “I think it’s kind of a word of mouth, in the know kind of program? Private donors … or something. Anyway, would you be okay with me putting your name in the hat?”