Enemies With Benefits: Loveless Brothers, Book 1

by Noir, Roxie

  Eli laughs.

  “That’s Cool Whip, and you’ve just committed heresy,” he says. “Come on.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Eli

  “Careful,” I say, offering Violet my hand. She takes it, holding onto the window frame with the other, ducking under the panes and stepping carefully onto the roof.

  “This’ll hold?” she asks, looking down at our feet in the dark.

  “It’s a roof.”

  “I wouldn’t go on my roof,” she says.

  I keep her hand in mine and lead her up to the ridge of the roof, to the spot with the best view. The trees out here are too thick to see most of the sky, but we can see a little.

  We lay down, the shingles still warm from the day, my arm under her head.

  “This where you came to drink and smoke pot in high school?” she asks.

  “You know I wasn’t that cool,” I say.

  “Yeah, I do,” she agrees, her voice lazy. “Not that I can talk.”

  “I came up here to read,” I say. “It felt like the only time that I could get some time and space to myself, though I finally got busted when I left The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy up here, it got rained on, and Levi found it.”

  “Was he coming up here to smoke pot?” she asks.

  “More likely than me,” I admit. “But I think he just liked the quiet, too.”

  We’re both silent for a long moment, savoring it. The noise of people in the house below is vague buzz, voices occasionally breaking through.

  This feels like a small miracle: that Violet came at all, that my brothers didn’t frighten her off before we even ate, that she’s managed to hold her own against them and even impress Rusty with her esoteric knowledge of deep-sea fish. I love my family, but they can be a lot sometimes.

  Plus, I’m fairly certain that not one of them has cornered Violet and asked her probing questions about the nature of our relationship. I have no idea why they care so much whether I call her my girlfriend or not, especially since I don’t even care that much.

  We have a lot of sex. We spend time together. Sometimes we go to restaurants in other towns, where no one knows who we are. Right now we’re cuddling on a rooftop, away from the eyes of my nosy brothers.

  Who cares what we call it?

  I don’t. Really, I don’t.

  Violet points up, toward the stars glimmering beyond the leaf canopy, her head turning against my shoulder.

  “Is that one Orion?”

  “Orion’s not up there,” I tell her.

  “That’s the belt.”

  “That’s just three stars, they’re not even in the same constellation,” I tell her. “Those two are in Draco,” I say, pointing, “and that one’s in Hercules.”

  Violet sighs.

  “Fine,” she says.

  “Orion’s a winter constellation,” I tell her.

  “What’s that one?” she asks, pointing.

  I have no idea what she’s pointing at, so I just start naming constellations.

  “That right there,” I say, waving my finger at the sky, “is Cygnus, the swan —”

  “It looks like a cross.”

  “Well, it’s a bird. See, it’s got a neck and wings?”

  Violet considers this for a moment, a slight breeze moving her hair against my arm.

  “I’m not seeing it,” she says. “Show me a better constellation.”

  “Cygnus is a perfectly good constellation,” I argue back, but I’m laughing.

  “It’s a B minus constellation at best,” she teases. “Come on, you can do better.”

  I sigh dramatically and point at something else.

  “There, that one’s a dragon,” I say, pointing at Draco. “It’s got a tail, and a head, and it’s kinda wrapped around Ursa Minor there.”

  Violet shifts against me, tilting her head. Then she tilts her head the other way, the side her body against mine, her warmth radiating through me.

  I like this. She’s soft. She smells good. She’s here, on my roof, keeping me on my toes like she always does. Violet’s not always the easiest person to get along with, but who wants easy? I’ll take interesting any day.

  “That’s your tattoo,” she finally says. “Right?”

  “Right,” I confirm.

  She looks up at me.

  “You gonna tell me about it?”

  “Are you gonna ask?”

  “Is it weird that I never have?”

  “Not really,” I say. “Half the time I forget I have it.”

  “I figured people must ask you about it all the time, so you’re probably sick of explaining it,” she says. “Or that you got it so people would ask, and I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

  “It’s on my back, no one ever sees it,” I point out, amused. “How often do you think I take my shirt off?”

  “Seems like pretty often to me.”

  She has a point.

  “And yet you’ve never asked about it.”

  “Okay, okay,” she says, but she’s laughing. “Eli, please tell me about your tattoo.”

  “Well, now it’s built up to be this whole big thing,” I say. “It’s just a tattoo. I got it with my brothers once when I was visiting home.”

  “You all got tattoos?”

  “Different constellations, but yeah,” I say.

  “Daniel has a tattoo?”

  I just laugh.

  “Earlier tonight he fussed at me for saying hell,” she goes on.

  “Do you not remember him when he was twenty-two? It’s a miracle that he only ended up with one tattoo and one surprise baby.”

  “True,” Violet laughs. “Which ones did they get?”

  “Daniel got Serpens, the snake, because, and I quote, ‘snakes are badass,’” I tell her. “Levi’s got the crow, Corvus; Caleb’s got the sextant because he’s a nerd, and I think Seth has… shit, he changed his at the last minute, and I can never remember what he ended up with.”

  “Why’d you get this one?”

  I stare up into the night sky, right at the constellations that are also tattooed on my skin. The truth is, I don’t really know. I just always liked them: the dragon wrapped around the bear, the bear escaping anyway, led by the North Star in its tail. There’s something in there about keeping my bearings and finding my way home, but I can’t quite grasp it right now.

  “Well, I was twenty-three and thought dragons were badass,” I say.

  Violet just laughs.

  “I liked the idea of tattooing the North Star on myself,” I say, my voice getting quieter. “It made me feel like I could always find my way when I was lost as fuck.”

  “Could you?”

  “Hell no.”

  She’s quiet. Quiet for a long time, a little too long.

  “What was your favorite place?” she asks. “Of everywhere you went.”

  I go through the possibilities: mountains and oceans and rivers, busy cities and small quiet towns, safe places and dangerous places and everything in between.

  “I liked the food in Chiang Mai and Saigon,” I say. “I spent a Christmas in a village in the Swiss Alps and I swear it made me think Santa Claus was real. I spent a month living in Istanbul as a politician’s temporary personal chef and every morning I’d go to the market and find something new to try. I went to Peru and once I got over the altitude sickness, it was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen.”

  “So you liked everywhere,” she says.

  She’s even closer to me now, one leg draped over mine, my hand on her ribcage. I stroke her with my thumb, thoughtlessly, the feel of her warm skin beneath her skin anchoring me even when I feel like I could fall into the sky.

  “Not everywhere,” I say.

  “But you miss it.”

  “I miss it and I don’t,” I say after a moment. “I worked a lot of shitty jobs and lived in a lot of sketchy apartments. I kept moving because nothing was ever like I thought it would be. Nothing interesting stays interes
ting. Everywhere has the same problems after a while.”

  “You can’t convince me that Bangkok and Sprucevale are anything alike.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I say. “They won’t fix the damn potholes there, either.”

  That gets a laugh. She slides her hand over mine, winding our fingers together. I turn my head and kiss her hair softly, so softly that maybe she doesn’t notice.

  “I like them,” she says suddenly.

  “The potholes?”

  “Your family,” she says, like that was obvious. “They’re fun.”

  “They’re fun because you’re their guest,” I say, sounding grumpier than I really am. “You don’t get shouted at about cake knives and you’re not the one facing the inquisition later.”

  “What inquisition?”

  “Are you serious right now, Violet?”

  She twists against me, her eyes looks up into mine.

  “Well, the first question is going to be how come Mom had to be the one to invite her?” I say. “Next it’ll be when’s she coming again and after that so are you moving out yet and why don’t you take her somewhere nice and —”

  I stop, because I almost say that the next questions are when are you getting married and what are you going to name your kids because if there’s something my brothers don’t know, it’s how to shut up sometimes.

  “And none of that applies here,” she says, her voice flat, like she’s far away.

  It could, I almost say. What if it did?

  But then I remember last night. I remember practically begging to kiss her by the fire, holding her hand.

  Not here, she said.

  Because I’m only good for two things and being a boyfriend isn’t one of them, no matter how many times I ask.

  “Nope,” I say. I say it like it’s a joke, my voice light against the weight in my chest.

  We’re quiet for a while, the air slowly cooling around us. The trees move in the breeze, the stars wink in and out and she stays there, nestled against me, her hand in mine.

  I force my mind to quiet. None of this bears thinking about it. It simply is, and that needs to be good enough.

  “Tell me more constellations,” she finally says.

  I shift on the roof, my arm still around her, fingers still through mine. Her hair is soft against my chin, but I don’t think about any of that.

  “Why?” I ask. “So you can give them B minuses?”

  “Only if they deserve it,” she says.

  I sigh dramatically, for effect. Then I point at the sky and start telling Violet stories.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Violet

  “You mean turtle doves,” I say, scrolling through a seating chart. This one’s more complicated than most: color-coded by nobility rank, something I had to crash-learn in the past four days.

  I swear, I don’t understand why brides want me to do their seating charts. I must have sent the princess’s people fifty emails, trying to figure out whether an English marquise was higher in rank than a Swiss baron or not.

  And did you know that a marquess is actually a male title? Thank God for America, where we at least pretend that we don’t have different classes.

  “No, I mean turtles,” Lydia says on the other end of the phone.

  She sounds stressed.

  “They’re very slow,” she goes on. “They have shells. In fact, they’re mostly hiding in their shells right now, and I have a feeling that they’re not going to suddenly take flight at the correct moment in the wedding ceremony.”

  I’m still staring at the seating chart, but I’m not seeing it.

  “You’re kidding,” I say.

  “No!” Lydia yelps.

  “We got reptiles and not birds?” I ask. I’m baffled. I have literally no idea how that sort of thing happens.

  “That’s what I’m telling you,” she says.

  I stand from my desk, because the seating chart is just going to have to be good enough as it is.

  “I’ll be right there,” I say.

  * * *

  Five minutes later I’m standing next to Lydia, staring at several crates filled with turtles.

  I’m well and truly speechless.

  “What?” I ask. “How?”

  She just shakes her head.

  “Did you…?” I ask.

  “Martin was in charge of the turtle doves,” she says. “I haven’t seen him since these showed up.”

  It’s a small, cold comfort, but it’s comfort: at least he screwed up his own responsibility for once, and not mine.

  In one of the crates, a turtle sticks its head out and glares at us. It’s kind of cute — about six inches in diameter, some okay colors on the shell — but then it pulls its head back in.

  “All right,” I finally say. “If you figure out where to put them and how to care for turtles until someone comes and gets them, I’ll tell Montgomery and see if we can find any birds in the next —”

  I check my watch.

  “ —Three hours,” I finish.

  “Montgomery knows,” Lydia says. “He’s the one who took Martin off.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  I keep my voice as neutral as I can, though on the inside I do a cartwheel.

  “I hate that slimy turd,” Lydia mutters.

  “Same,” I admit.

  * * *

  “Fifteen pounds of lettuce?” Zane asks. “How much lettuce is that, even?”

  “I think it’s fifteen pounds,” Brandon says.

  I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. He’s perfectly straight-faced.

  “Do you have it? I’ll take any greens you have,” I say, because beggars can’t be choosers.

  They look at each other, then Zane shrugs.

  “Sure,” he says. “Why do you need this?”

  I explain about the turtles as they lead me to the walk-in fridge. I grab a bunch of greens and try to answer their questions about why there are turtles, but God knows I don’t entirely understand the situation either.

  On the way out, I walk past Eli. He’s wearing an apron that’s covered in splatters, holding a thermometer, and focusing on a pot on something.

  We nod at each other, and then I’m out of there with my lettuce.

  * * *

  And then, the most surprising thing of all happens: the princess’s wedding goes perfectly. The only problem is the lack of dove release — unsurprisingly, we couldn’t find replacement birds in time — but I don’t think anyone notices, and Her Highness sure doesn’t seem to care.

  The ceremony is beautiful. The day is gorgeous. The food is great. I got the seating chart right, and if I didn’t, there’s so much imported vodka that no one notices. There are toasts and dancing and more drinks and more dancing, and as far as I can tell, everyone’s having a great time.

  The couple is glowing. She’s radiant with happiness. Her new husband can’t take his eyes off her, and every time I look over at them, they’re leaning together like they’re sharing some secret, laughing with each other.

  Weddings like these more than make up for the terrible ones.

  I’m standing in the corner, about to go find Eli and leave, when I suddenly see the princess making a beeline for me.

  I straighten up. It seems like I should stand straight for royalty.

  “Violet?” she asks.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, my default state.

  She laughs, her hand on my arm.

  “Vhat? Nahssing eez wrong,” she says, her accent made heavier with vodka. “Zees is beautiful. Eet’s perfect. Zee best day of my life, and I vanted to sank you for making eet happen.”

  Then she takes my shoulders, leans in, and gives me a kiss on each cheek.

  “Vonderful,” she says, flushing pink.

  Then she winks.

  “And I vill be sure to tell your boss,” she says, and gets back to her party.

  I decide that’s my cue to leave, because nothing better is going to happen.

/>   * * *

  “Then she kissed me,” I say.

  “Should I be jealous?” Eli asks.

  I’m facedown on my bed, the sheet wound around my feet. He’s on his back. We’re both naked, sweaty, satiated.

  Would you be? I think.

  “It was very platonic,” I say. “Hardly any tongue at all.”

  “What are you gonna do with the money?” he asks. Just the question makes my nerves prickle.

  “Don’t jinx it,” I tell him. “There’s two more days. Anyone could win.”

  “Come on.”

  “Are you somehow going to use this conversation against me?” I tease. “Are you wearing a wire, and now you’re going to bait me into saying I’ve embezzled thousands of dollars from Bramblebush or something?”

  Eli just laughs.

  “Am I that bad?” he asks.

  “You told people I liked to smell my own farts,” I say.

  He laughs harder.

  “That was pretty good,” he admits.

  “Kids called me the fart sniffer for months.”

  “Then it was effective.”

  I grab my pillow and smack him with it.

  “Ow,” he says, his voice muffled.

  I push my pillow further under my chest, punching it in to make it puffier.

  “I’d use it as the down payment for the cabin by the lake,” I say. “You know that. I’d move out of this place. I’m sick of being trailer trash.”

  I sigh, stretching.

  “The roof would never leak,” I say. “I’d have a bathtub. The AC would work properly in the summer and the heat would work properly in the winter. My next door neighbors would be a quiet retired couple whose interests include five hundred piece puzzles and gardening.”

  He’s quiet for a moment. Then he looks over at me, his face suddenly earnest, unguarded.

  “Let’s go somewhere,” he says. “To celebrate. A weekend away.”

  “Didn’t I just tell you not to jinx it?”

  “Come on,” he says. “We’ll rent some charming cabin with a good view and a hot tub in some mountain town where no one knows us.”