Falling for You: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Lila Kane

  “You stay right there at the bottom of the stairs. I’m calling the police.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Don’t move.”

  God, she’s sexy as hell. Her body matches her voice. Sexy, smoky. Curves in all the right places.

  I stop where she says, but hold my hands out in appeal. “I’m not going to hurt you. I—”

  “You’re breaking and entering,” she says, voice rising with each word. “I said don’t move.”

  She scoots closer to the window to grab her purse.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say.

  “What? Call the police? This is my house, in case you were wondering.”

  “I don’t mean the police, I mean walking over by the window. There’s a loose board and—”

  She gasps. It’s too late. The floorboard shifts and she falls into the hole, her pepper spray clacking on the floor.

  I rush over, ignoring her demand to stay where I am. “Hold on,” I murmur, reaching for her.

  She looks up, eyes wide. Shocked.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, crouching down to grip her arms. “Did you twist your ankle?”

  “I don’t know. I just—I think I scratched my leg.”

  “I’m just going to help you out. Don’t hit me with anything.”

  I swear I hear her chuckle quietly as she grips my arms and lets me haul her out of the hole. She leans against me for a moment while she looks down at her leg in her shorts. Damn, she smells good. Like lemons. Fresh.

  “Shit,” she says.

  I follow her gaze, and then repeat what she says. “Shit.”

  She’s bleeding. A lot. There’s a long scratch down her leg, and it looks painful.

  I look at the hole, and then the floorboard. “Damn it. You probably caught in on a nail. Who the fuck thought they could patch up a hole like that? And what did they do—use a nail gun? Idiots.” I turn back to her, taking her arm. “You need to get that cleaned up. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”

  Her mouth is open in surprise.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Who are you?”

  “Honestly?”

  She rolls her eyes. “No, I want you to lie.”

  I can’t help but smirk. “Okay, if you promise not to call the police, I promise to tell you. But let’s get your leg cleaned up first.”

  She eases back with a frown. “Maybe you’d better just leave.”

  I point to her leg. “Leave you like this?”

  I feel responsible. After all, if she hadn’t been trying to defend her home, she probably wouldn’t have cut herself.

  Besides, there’s an electrical issue upstairs, and if she doesn’t address it soon, she could be facing problems. A potential fire.

  I mean, did she buy this place without getting it inspected or what? Whatever. All I know is, I feel responsible. And since she let me use her house for a place to bunk—albeit unknowingly—I figure I owe her something.

  “I can take care of myself,” she says, backing up to grab her pepper spray.

  “Do you have a first aid kit?”

  She glares at me. “No. But I’ll find something.”

  I chuckle. “And get it infected. Sure. Come on.”

  “What?”

  I hold up my hands and walk cautiously around her. “I’m just grabbing my first aid kit. If you sit in that chair, I’ll help you take care of your leg and then I’ll leave.”

  “Really?”

  I nod. “I swear.”

  After I tell her about the electrical issue. And maybe see if she’ll let me take one last look around the place. The first time I drove by it, long before Kyle told me we might have a client, I saw it was for sale. I wanted to buy it so bad, but I didn’t have enough money.

  God, it kills me that I didn’t figure it out. I could have borrowed some from my ex or something.

  Too late now.

  At least I know this house is in semi-good hands. At least she looks normal. I wonder what made her buy the place. I wonder a lot of other things about this woman, too.

  And seriously, I can’t help but take a brief look at her long, long legs. She’s shaped like a goddess, and her hair is so blonde and shiny, it doesn’t even look real. Where the hell did she come from?

  I smirk when I turned to find her sitting in the chair, her hand tight around her pepper spray. “I don’t think you’re going to need that.”

  “Just the same,” she says.

  I shrug. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

  She shifts when I crouch by her, turning her leg so I can see it.

  “Though,” I continue, “I think you have more to worry about with the house than you do with me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks.

  I pull out a cotton ball and some antiseptic. “This is going to hurt.”

  She nods, keeping a straight face. Even when I wipe the cut, she doesn’t flinch. But I can see the pain in her eyes. Hear her short hiss of breath.

  “Fuck,” she whispers after I finish. “I think it hurt less when I broke my nose.”

  My eyes automatically go to her face. “You broke your nose?”

  “When I was a teenager. Elbow to the face during a volleyball game.” She grins. “I finished the game, though. We won.”

  “You played volleyball in high school?”

  She nods. “And college. Scholarship. Shortest girl on the team, but I kicked ass.”

  I didn’t doubt it. She seemed like a strong, driven kind of woman.

  “So what were you saying about the house?” she asks while I try to dab up the rest of the blood.

  “You’ve got a short in one of your wires upstairs.”

  “What were you doing upstairs?”

  I shrug. “Looking around. Nice place. Good bones.”

  “What? Are you the house fairy? Come to check out old abandoned places to assess their potential?”

  I grin at her. “Something like that. And I have to say, this one has great potential.”

  “Seriously, though. You know a lot about old places like this?”

  “More than most.”

  “My electrical issue—that something that needs to get fixed right away?”

  I put a few bandages on her leg and nod. “I wouldn’t wait. Just in case.”

  She blows out a breath. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “Not exactly having the best luck with this place already.”

  I stand and put the first aid kit back in my duffel. I notice she isn’t holding on as tight to the pepper spray anymore. In fact, she seems to have forgotten it altogether.

  “This place giving you problems already?” I ask casually, then laugh. “I mean, besides finding a random guy in your living room bright and early.”

  She joins my laughter, which makes me relax even more. She’s not going to call the police. Not now. Which means I can make a clean escape. Although…something is drawing at me to stay. Even if it’s just to make sure her wiring is fixed. A way to say thank you. Or sorry.

  And maybe, just maybe, so I can get the dirt on Kyle. See how much she said she was going to pay him.

  After all, I can do the job cheaper.

  All the sudden, I’m not thinking of leaving anymore. I’m thinking of making a deal.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LIBBY

  Holy hell. It’s hot in here. And it’s not just because the windows are all shut and the air is stale. It’s because my intruder has turned out to be a six-foot and change handyman who knows his way around a house.

  He shows me the issue with the wiring upstairs and then reminds me to get the screens fixed and lock the back door.

  “You don’t want people sneaking in here,” he tells me.

  “People like you.”

  He grins. I’ve long since forgotten about the pepper spray. I figure if he wanted to kill me, he would have done it already. And he certainly wouldn’t have cleaned up my wound first. />
  But he still hasn’t told me why he’s here.

  “I can fix it for you, if you’d like,” he says.

  “Hold on. Wait.”

  He stops what he’s doing by the wall and looks up. “Yeah?”

  “I’m Libby. I should have introduced myself before. But, you know, you’re a criminal and all…”

  He grins at my joke and walks over to hold out his hand. “I swear, this is the first time I’ve ever done this. I’m Carson.”

  “I guess it’s nice to meet you.”

  “I guess it’s nice to meet you, too.”

  I fold my arms and lean against the wall. My leg aches some, but it’s barely noticeable when Carson’s eyes are on me. Maybe I cut myself deeper than I thought, or lost way more blood because I’m not thinking clearly. There’s a strange man in my house. He stayed the night here against the law. And now I’m practically flirting with him?

  I have issues. But he knows about houses and right now, I need advice. I need to make sure I’m safe here and then maybe I can see if he knows anyone who can help me.

  “You said this is the first time you’ve ever done this,” I prompted.

  He grimaced and knelt by the wall again. “I did say that.”

  “And you told me you’d be honest with me about why you were here.”

  “I said that, too.” He sighs and glances over. “I found out last night that my girlfriend cheated on me with my best friend. My best friend who’s also my business partner. Long story short, I lost my girlfriend, my business, and my home all in one night.”

  I swallow. “Damn. That is a rough night. I’m sorry.”

  He doesn’t make eye contact, but nods. “Yeah. Well…it is what it is. But I was driving by this place and thinking ‘Damn it, why didn’t I buy it when I had the chance?’”

  “Wait, you wanted to buy this place?”

  This time, he does look over. “I did. But you beat me to it.”

  “You wanted to live here or flip it like I am?”

  “Flip,” he says, “but living here wouldn’t kill me either. Too much upkeep probably, though. And it’s meant for a bigger family.”

  I hear something that sounds almost like longing in his voice. Then dismiss it. Carson might be helping me out, but he reminds of someone. No, three someones. My dad, my brother, and that asshole Kyle who charmed me into agreeing to work with him and then decided not to show up.

  Maybe I’m wrong about Carson, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious. He’s a classic charmer. And I’ve been burned more than once by a charmer in the past.

  Still, he did just get cheated on, so I should probably have more sympathy for him.

  “Anyway,” Carson continues, “I knew this place was empty. Figured I’d have a day or two to recoup and figure out what’s next. Then you showed up.”

  I smile at him. “I bought the place right out from under you and then decided to actually show up in my own house. I guess that makes me an ass.”

  “Hey—you said it, not me.” He glances over again. “You said you wanted to flip this place. This a lifelong dream or what?”

  “I…” I shrug even though it’s more than that. “It’s a profession that runs in the family. This is my first place. On my own.”

  He whistles. “Big project.”

  “Trust me, I know.”

  I more than know that. My brother laughed when I told him I’d bought house with more square footage than my first two apartments combined. And it’s on a huge lot just outside of New Orleans. He said I should have started with something smaller. A cute little one-bedroom cottage by the water. Something easy.

  I don’t want him to be right. I want to prove to him and my dad—the whole world—that I can do this. I want to knock their socks off with how amazing this place looks when I’m finished with it.

  “So…” I begin, getting my act together. “I figure you owe me.”

  “Owe you?”

  I nod. “Yep. I let you stay here last night rent-free. You owe me.”

  He rests his forearms across his knees. “Okay, what do I owe you?”

  “Contacts.”

  “What?”

  “You know, like…you seem like you know what you’re doing with the wires and the structural stuff and all that. Do you know people? Someone who can help me fix this place up?”

  He narrows his eyes. I can tell something is going on in his head, though he doesn’t say what. “You want to flip this place, but…you don’t have a contractor? Or a team to help you?”

  I bite back the snarky comment. Just because he’s pointing out my obvious mistake doesn’t mean he’s like my brother or my dad. “I did have someone. I did my research and there’s a lot I can do on my own. But for the bigger stuff, I had a contractor. And he, sort of…bailed on me this morning.”

  Carson stands and leans against the wall, mirroring my pose. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Well, it’s business. He said he could get to the place in a few weeks, but I need someone now. He was supposed to start right away, but…whatever. I figure, if he can’t stay true to his word, he doesn’t deserve my business.”

  “Good for you. I agree completely, by the way. That’s not professional what he did. Screw him.”

  I nod, but it feels half-hearted. “Right. But that means I’m left without help. Give me a paint roller and some paint and I’m good. I can even build a wall. Or tear one down. But I don’t do electrical and plumbing. It’s a little out of my league—though I’m willing to learn.”

  “In this business, you’re going to end up learning a little bit of everything whether you want to or not. At least until you have enough money to delegate.”

  “No,” I say. “I don’t want to get to that point. Don’t get me wrong, once I’m bringing in the money and I’m financially stable, it’ll be great. But I’m a hands-on kind of person. I want to be here in the thick of it. To be able to say I had a part of it.”

  I swear his eyes drop to my lips before his own curve. “I’m a hands-on kind of person myself.”

  And now we’re talking about two separate things at the same time.

  Damn. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere. But then he straightens abruptly and it’s back to business.

  “I know someone who can help,” Carson says.

  “Really? Who?”

  “Me.”

  “You?”

  “Yep. I know what I’m doing. Your electrical and plumbing—no problem. I got it. I’ve done all this stuff before more than once. And I know a few guys in town. I can get discounts, I can get extra hands when we need them. It’s a big project, so it’s going to cost you some, but I’m willing to bet it’ll be less than the other guy was going to charge you.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. It sounds too good to be true. “You said it’s going to cost me. What did you have in mind?”

  “First off, a place to stay. I don’t have anywhere else to go, and honestly, I’d rather live on-site. That way I can get to work right away, work when I chose, and get a feel for the place.”

  “But…I live here. I mean, I want to live here while we’re working on things.”

  I just said, “while we’re working on things” like he’s already hired. He can’t live here, can he?

  “The place is huge,” he says. “Don’t see how it’ll be a problem. Besides.” And there goes his grin again. “I make an excellent roommate.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  He crouches down again. “Tell you what. I’ll fix your wiring for free because I owe you that much at least, and then we can negotiate the rest. Sound good?”

  “We’ll see,” I say, though I’m halfway there to giving in. I need help and Carson knows how to do the things I can’t. Still, I can’t rush this. I need to be smart. Professional.

  I know how much Kyle was charging, so I want to get a discount on Carson’s labor. Especially if he wants to stay in the same house. It’s kind of smart now that I think about it. The work wil
l get done faster, and I need it done ASAP.

  “All right,” I say, “let’s talk. I’ll let you finish up here and when you’re ready to negotiate, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I hear his chuckle as I turn and walk down the stairs, rolling my eyes as I spot the giant hole in my living room floor.

  At least my morning is starting to look up. To make it even better, I decide to call the water company so I can get some water in here. No time to waste.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CARSON

  Part of me is surprised she went for it. The whole idea is kind of ridiculous. I mean, I trespassed on her property and now she’s letting me work for her?

  I gather my duffel bag from the floor and smile at the hole. I’m grateful for that hole. Without it, she might have pepper sprayed me and called the police. Kind of sad I have to patch it up.

  On the other hand, she’s getting a damn good deal. Yeah, I’m getting a place to live and some weekly spending money—even a percentage of what the place sells for—but she’s going to get a bundle once we finish.

  And I’ll be able to rub it in Kyle’s face. I’ll have this project in my portfolio. I’d be able to start a website and get my own business up and running.

  In the meantime, I get to be in the thick of it. Getting my hands dirty. Collaborating on a project I wanted since I first saw this place.

  A win/win.

  I hike up the stairs to the second floor. There are a few rooms that are mostly habitable, and it sounds like Libby has taken the one closest to the bathroom. I drop my duffel in the room across the hall and then wander to her doorway.

  She’s spreading a sleeping bag on the ground, fluffing it up just so. Then she adds a pillow and sets a book next to it, along with a flashlight and a phone charger.

  “Look at you getting all domestic,” I say.

  She glances up and then laughs. “I wish. I’d love a bed. And a hot shower. And a glass of wine—or champagne. And, of course, a chair to sit in when I drink that champagne. But one thing at a time.”

  “I can’t do much about the first, but I think I can handle the rest.”

  “Really?”

  I beckon her with my hand and walk out of the room.