Enemies With Benefits: Loveless Brothers, Book 1

by Noir, Roxie

  It’s good. It’s nice. It’s better than nice; it’s a thousand things that I don’t want to admit to myself. It’s enough to make me wish that I was someone else, or that she was. It’s enough to make me wish this could actually work.

  I kiss her long and slow. I kiss her like we’re in love. She kisses back the same way, her hand soft against my face, her lips gentle.

  The kiss ends. I press our faces together, say nothing. I’m trying to formulate a thought into words, something like what if this was really what it feels like it could be, but it’s not working.

  “I don’t want to leave,” she murmurs.

  “Any reason we can’t sleep here?” I ask.

  “About a thousand,” she says. She traces one finger along my collarbone, my whole attention suddenly focused on that singular point of contact.

  “You’re coming over, right?” she says.

  “That wasn’t enough?” I tease, and Violet laughs.

  “Just come over,” she says. “I need someone to make me breakfast in the morning.”

  I kiss her hair one more time, my arms back around her.

  “Sure,” I say. “I’ve got two skills, may as well —”

  I stop. I listen. There’s a wail in the distance, rising and falling. Getting louder. Violet tenses.

  They’re sirens, getting closer.

  “Shit,” I whisper.

  * * *

  The good thing about the pandemonium is that no one sees us leave the barn together.

  The bad thing is everything else. When we come out there’s already a fire truck in the parking lot by the Lodge, a herd of people milling and running around, everyone looking slightly worried and unsure.

  “Is there a fire?” Violet breathes.

  “How am I supposed to know?” I ask her. “There’s a fire truck.”

  We start walking toward the Lodge. Despite the truck, it doesn’t look like anything’s on fire.

  “Sometimes they just send whatever first responder they’ve got,” she says, walking faster. “A lot of times that’s the fire department.”

  “If you know everything about this, why’d you ask me if there’s a fire?”

  There’s another siren in the distance. We walk faster toward the Lodge, where it doesn’t look like there’s a fire and no one is acting like anything’s on fire.

  An ambulance winds its way up the driveway. The sirens are turned off, but the lights keep flashing as it pulls up near the fire truck. People are standing around in swimsuits and towels, dripping wet in the warm night.

  “Oh no,” Violet whispers, and breaks into a jog.

  There’s a heavy, sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach as I follow her. We skirt the parking lot. Paramedics jump out of the ambulance, head toward the pool area.

  “It wasn’t even supposed to be open,” Violet says, slowing to a walk. “It was locked, we didn’t have a lifeguard on duty or anything, and with all these kids around there’s so much liability…”

  She trails off when a stretcher appears, coming from the pool area. We both stop in our tracks. Violet covers her mouth, steps out of the way.

  I pray that I’m not about to see a dead kid. I think of Rusty and my heart twists, because I can’t help but imagine my feisty, wonderful niece on that stretcher.

  I swallow hard. It’s not her, I tell myself. Someone was with her all night.

  The paramedics come closer with the stretcher. They’re hurrying, not walking, not running. The person on it isn’t covered up.

  A foot moves on the stretcher, and relief prickles through my body. It’s an adult, not a kid, someone who’s still moving, someone with sandy blond hair and bandages wrapped around his head.

  Someone I know.

  “Kevin?” Violet says, taking her hand off her mouth.

  The stretcher goes past, Violet’s intern laid out on his back, wearing nothing but boxers and a head bandage.

  As he looks at us, he weakly lifts one hand as if to wave. Violet watches him go, then turns and walks toward the pool.

  It’s full of guilty-looking Bramblebush employees. Zane, Brandon, and Naomi are sitting on lounge chairs, looking shell-shocked. Lydia and Martin are there, fully-clothed. Lydia’s wide-eyed and pale, and to his credit, even Martin looks concerned.

  On one side of the pool is a big bloody spot. Everyone’s giving it a wide berth, the blood slowly seeping through the cracks in the tiles.

  Bobbing gently nearby on the surface of the pool is a huge, dark inflatable… thing.

  “Oh no,” Violet says again, and now she’s moving toward the pool, arms held out, careful not to slip. “No, no, no.”

  I follow her coming around the side of the pool, until finally I can see the behemoth straight-on.

  It’s unmistakably a floating mechanical bull. Bobbing next to it in the water are four more floats, each about six inches across, with a can of beer firmly wedged in the middle.

  “How did this get out here?” Violet says, mostly to herself, crouching at the edge of the pool. “What happened? Is Kevin okay?”

  Zane clears his throat, or maybe it’s Brandon. They’re both wrapped in towels, wide-eyed and pale.

  “He fell off,” Zane says.

  “No shit,” Violet snaps. “What the hell are you doing at the pool?”

  No one answers.

  “This was closed off for a reason,” she goes on. “There’s no lifeguard. There’s no one watching, and you’re not supposed to be here and you’re absolutely not supposed to be drunk out here!”

  “Violet,” Lydia says, stepping around the blood to put her hand on Violet’s arm.

  “Did you do this?” Violet snaps.

  “I got here five minutes ago,” Lydia says.

  “Kevin?”

  “Probably just a concussion, but they’re taking him in just in case,” Lydia says, her voice still low and soothing. “Head wounds always bleed like crazy. He’ll be fine, Violet.”

  She takes a deep breath, presses her fingers to her eyes, and without thinking I step forward and put my hand on her back.

  If anyone sees me or thinks something of it, they keep their mouths shut. Violet takes a deep, shaky breath, and I realize that she’s trying not to cry.

  “Okay,” she says. “Okay, we need to get a mop and lots of bleach out here, and I think we’re going to have to drain the pool because this is definitely —”

  The door from the lodge opens, and Montgomery walks out.

  We all freeze, like teens caught smoking in the basement.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demands, his accent thick as syrup even now.

  Lydia shoots Zane, Brandon, and Naomi a dagger-filled look.

  “This was to be closed off,” he thunders.

  Zane stands. He wobbles slightly on his feet, but he keeps the towel on and he doesn’t fall over.

  “A couple of us sneaked in to take a swim,” he says, uncertainly. “And… Kevin fell.”

  Montgomery gives Zane a withering look, then glares at the mechanical bull.

  “Off of that thing?”

  Zane just nods.

  “That yours?”

  “It was just here,” Zane says.

  Under my hand, Violet’s back muscles tense.

  “Where did it come from?” Montgomery barks.

  “Um,” Zane says, rubbing his head. He sways again, one hand clutching his towel, but valiantly stays upright. “I dunno?”

  “There’s a box in the corner over there,” says Martin. “That might have a clue.”

  “It’s mine,” Violet suddenly says.

  Over her head, I catch Martin’s eye. He betrays nothing, his gaze flat and dark.

  You fucking shitweasel, I think.

  “Yours?” Montgomery says. “Care to explain why you thought this was a good idea?”

  “Last time I saw it, it was in my office,” Violet says.

  Montgomery just waits.

  “It showed up here because there was a… misunderst
anding when my credit card got stolen,” she says, rubbing her forehead with one hand. “I was supposed to send it back. I don’t know how it got out here.”

  “No?” Montgomery asks quietly.

  “Someone must have brought it,” I say, looking right at Martin.

  Nothing shows in his face.

  “Thank you for that, Elijah,” Montgomery snaps. “Yes, someone must have brought it. All of you, get the hell out of here. Close the pool off now. No one comes out here until biohazard cleanup is finished, and I want all of you in my office first thing Tuesday morning.”

  With that, he turns on his heel and strides back into the lodge. Violet slumps onto a chair, her face in her hands. I sit next to her, Lydia on the other side, Zane still standing awkwardly.

  Martin melts into the darkness, presumably because he can turn into slime at will.

  “Shit,” Violet whispers.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Violet

  The next morning I wake up with a hangover and Eli’s arm draped over me. It’s not the worst hangover I’ve ever had, but it’s unpleasant. My mouth is sticky. My limbs feel like lead. My head feels like it’s filled with cotton.

  Eli rolls over, looks at me. There are circles under his eyes, and his hair’s an unholy mess.

  “You look rough,” I say, half my face still smashed against the pillow.

  “Well, you look like Miss America,” he says, rolling onto his back, his arms under his head.

  I flip him off, and he laughs.

  “You want breakfast?” he asks.

  * * *

  I drink approximately a gallon of water and a gallon of coffee. I eat the bacon and eggs that Eli makes. I didn’t know I had bacon and eggs in the house, but apparently he’s started stocking my fridge when I’m not looking.

  That probably means something. It probably also means something that I’ve given him a key and that he has his own toothbrush on my sink, but I’m too tired and hungover to think about any of that right now.

  I’m also too tired to think about the fact that everyone in Sprucevale knows about us, too tired to think about the mechanical bull incident last night, and very definitely too tired to contemplate what my chances at the twenty grand are looking like right now.

  I drink another gallon of coffee. Eli kisses me and leaves. As I watch him go, I wonder how I could ever think that we were keeping a secret.

  After another hour, I finally force myself to put on jeans and leave the house. I go get flowers, then take them to the hospital.

  “Mom, it was my fault,” Kevin’s saying when I reach his room. “You don’t need to sue Bramblebush. I got on the bull myself, I swear —”

  “That gate should never have been unlocked,” she’s saying, steel in her voice, when I step in. “Someone’s going to pay for this.”

  They both look up: his mom’s mouth a thin line, Kevin looking absolutely mortified.

  “Hi,” I say. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he says. “They’re releasing me in a few hours, they just kept me overnight as a precaution.”

  His mom glares at me. I vaguely recollect that she’s some kind of lawyer, and I wonder if I’ve already said too much as she goes back to rearranging his pillow.

  It’s familiar, in a way. I’m acquainted with hospital rooms and I’m acquainted with endlessly rearranging someone’s pillows, though in my case, the roles were reversed.

  A quick, sharp pang of jealousy spikes in my chest, but I banish it. I step into the room, give Kevin his flowers. He apologizes to me over and over again for sneaking into the pool. I think he’s still apologizing even when I finally say goodbye.

  There. I accomplished something, one single, simple task. I head back to my trailer, turn on Netflix, and zone out, because I have too many things to think about and I don’t want to do any of it.

  It’s three when I suddenly remember Clarabelle’s invitation.

  I’m on my couch. I’m comfy. I’m half-asleep and watching old episodes of House Hunters International, avoiding my problems by getting annoyed at people with million-dollar budgets.

  “No,” I say out loud, to no one. “That’s not today.”

  I sit up, press the heels of my hands into my eyes, try to remember what Clara said yesterday.

  She said Sunday dinner. She said four p.m.

  And, yeah, she said it was today.

  “Why?” I ask my empty living room.

  Then I roll myself off the couch and finally take a shower.

  * * *

  At 4:05, I climb the wooden stairs to the Loveless homestead with an apple pie in my hand, bought last-second from Kroger because nothing else is open on a Sunday. In my defense, I at least put it on a nice plate, and I’m pretty good at putting things on nice plates.

  The house is an old farmhouse, probably at least a hundred years old if not older, and it’s huge. I’ve been inside a few times before, since Eli and I have always been in the same class and there’s an age when you have to invite everyone to your birthday, but it’s been at least twenty years.

  As I raise my hand to knock, it suddenly occurs to me: I didn’t tell Eli I was coming. Last night I was, you know, distracted, and then this morning I completely forgot.

  Clara told him, right? Or is Eli about to be surprised that I’m showing up at his house with pie?

  I shrug and knock, because the last twenty-four hours have thrown everything pretty askew, and whatever happens, I’m just going to roll with it.

  I wait. Footsteps. Someone hollers.

  Then the door opens and Eli is standing there, the screen separating us.

  I hold up the pie.

  “Hi,” I say. “By the way, your mom invited me for dinner.”

  He pushes open the screen door and holds it for me as I step through.

  “So she told me about an hour ago,” he says. “Here, I’ll take that.”

  Eli takes the pie from me. He glances around, craning his neck to see down the hall and into the kitchen.

  Then he kisses me hello. It’s quick, familiar, a nothing kiss, except that his brothers and mom can’t be more than a hundred feet away.

  “Sorry about this,” he says.

  “Sorry about what?” I ask.

  He sighs, pushing a hand through his hair. There’s a streak of something down his forearm, and it suddenly occurs to me that it smells amazing in here.

  “This whole Sunday dinner rigamarole,” he says. “I know it’s not your thing. Come on, I’ll show you in.”

  He turns away before I can ask him why he thinks I don’t want this whole rigamarole, padding down the hallway with bare feet.

  “Everyone is on the back porch,” he says when we reach the kitchen. He puts the pie on a sideboard, tucking it neatly away next to a bundt cake. “You want a drink before you head out?”

  My stomach recoils at the thought.

  “I’m good,” I say, and finally, Eli cracks a smile.

  “Yeah, thought you might say that,” he says. “You ready?”

  “I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m about to face the inquisition,” I tell him, leaning one hip against the sideboard. “You know I know your family already, for Pete’s sake.”

  He folds his arms, looks away for a moment.

  “I’ve never brought a girl home before,” he admits. “I moved away when I was eighteen and I never exactly introduced my family to any of my girlfriends.”

  “You didn’t bring me home either,” I point out. “Your mother invited me. You found out about this an hour ago.”

  I leave unspoken and I’m not your girlfriend, but I know we both hear it.

  “They all know,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Well, I think they do. My brothers know. I’m sure Charlie knows. I don’t know what my mom knows.”

  “Charlie’s here?”

  Charlie — Charlotte — is Daniel’s best friend and has been since they were kids. I don’t know her all tha
t well, but she’s always been nice.

  “Yeah, she comes a lot,” Eli says.

  “Eli,” I tell him, putting a hand on his arm. “Chill out. It’s fine. I’m a big girl. What do you think is going to happen?”

  “If I knew I wouldn’t be so worried,” he says, half smiling.

  Before I can do anything, he leans forward and kisses me. It’s brief, sweet, over in a second, a calm down your girlfriend before she meets your family kiss, though neither part of that applies here. I’m not his girlfriend, and I’ve met his family before.

  “They can be a lot,” he says. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Eli

  I open the sliding door onto the back porch and step out, Violet trailing me.

  Six sets of eyes turn our way, and silence falls over the group.

  I already wish I’d told her not to come.

  “Violet’s here,” I say, as casually as I can. “Everyone, this is Violet. Violet, you remember my brothers Levi, Seth, and Daniel, his daughter Rusty, Charlie McManus, and my mom?”

  Seth, Daniel, Charlie, and my mom are sitting in a semi-circle, a low table in front of them, beers on Loveless Brewing coasters atop it. A few feet away, Levi and Rusty are playing some sort of card game, sitting on the wooden planking of the back porch.

  “Violet!” my mom says, standing and coming over. “I’m so glad you could make it. Eli, you didn’t get her a drink?”

  “He offered,” Violet says as my mom envelops her in a hug. “I declined.”

  “Are you sure?” my mom says. “We’ve got the boys’ pale ale that they just finished bottling, we’ve got lemonade and iced tea…”

  I glance over at the chairs. All three of my brothers are staring at me, varying expressions of amusement, interest, and just general nosiness on their faces.

  Charlie’s also looking, but she’s very nice and not related to me.

  For a moment, I’m just glad that Caleb’s off in California, doing his thing, instead of also sticking his nose in my personal business. If I had to deal with all four of them right now, I might actually lose my shit.