Undeniably Enemies: Chapter 12

“So you have no idea who it is you’re texting with?” Keegan asks while I lay like a starfish on her apartment floor.

“No clue. He wouldn’t tell me. It was like one minute he was flirting and the next he was short and dismissive. I don’t know. But how weird is that?”

I squint an eye open and meet my cousin’s puzzled stare. On Friday nights I typically like to chill in with a movie and bake or read or drink or do all three. Sometimes I’ll do that with Estlin or Tinsley, but when Keegan texted me and asked if I’d come chill at her place, I didn’t hesitate. Mostly because I didn’t feel like being alone tonight and Estlin is with Owen and Tinsley is in London.

It’s been quite the week, and I think I might have told my asshole boss—more than once during it—that he’s ridiculously hot. He definitely told me he thinks I’m gorgeous. I might have also flirted a bit yesterday. In fairness to me, I was in a particularly good mood. I kicked ass at work. Or so Daffy told me. Today I didn’t see him much since we avoided each other again.

Kenna is at some conference in DC, and the guy Keegan is quietly obsessed with, an actor by the name of Loomis Powell, who’s shooting a film with Tinsley in London, doesn’t see her as more than a buddy. I’m here for moral support and because she doesn’t do alone well. It’s the twin in her, I think.

“So weird.” She’s sitting on her sofa, staring contemplatively at the wall. “And he knows who you are.”

It’s not a question, but I answer her all the same. “He does. He used my name and everything.”

“Wild. That would drive me freaking crazy. I’d have to know who he is or I’d never be able to let that go. Did you fuck him?” Her chin drops, and she looks at me.

“No. I was eighteen when we first texted.”

“So weird. Are you going to text him again?”

My face scrunches up. “No. I mean, I shouldn’t, right?”

“Um, if you’re asking me, I would, but I’m clingy like that. Just look at my mess of a nonexistent love life.”

“He’s your friend.”

“Yeah,” she deadpans sardonically. “Wow. Friends is awesome.”

Fair.

“I don’t know who he is, and clearly I didn’t like him enough the first time to put his name with his number.”

“True. But I still think I’d have to know. Especially since he liked you enough to not only put your name in his phone but also remember exactly who you are.” She sighs. “I miss sex.”

“Same,” I lament. “So same. God, it’s been forever since I’ve had any, let alone anything good.”

“Yes. The last guy?” She shakes her head. “He couldn’t find my clit or G-spot with a map and a flashlight. He’s a doctor and in his thirties. How is that even possible? He knows basic anatomy.”

“Shitty lay. Or lazy.”

“Whatever. I’m so tired of the game. And I’m tired of chasing men who do not want to be chased. I’m done with that. We’re owning this. We should go out as hot fucking bitches and own it.”

I force myself to curl up until I’m sitting. “What? Like now? You ordered pizza.”

“Wren, you’re twenty-five, and I’m thirty-one. Why are we spending our Friday night ordering pizza and talking about a random text guy who won’t tell you who he is and a movie star who isn’t hot for my bod?”

She has a point.

“Just us two, or do we want backup?”

“Katy I know is home with Willow and Bennett, so she’s out. Sorel is pregnant and home with Mason. Tins is in London with he who shall not be named. Kenna is in DC, and Estlin is with Owen. Unless we’re bringing pork to this party, it’s just us. Or we could get some other cousins who we don’t hang out with often to join.”

“Yeah, but then we’d have to talk to them and catch up.”

She points at me. “Good call on that.” She scoots to the end of the couch. “Do you think it’s bad that we don’t hang out with people who we don’t consider family?”

“We’re Fritzes, Keegan. As fucked up and entitled as it sounds, no. Our family has been followed, stalked, photographed, and spread across tabloids, and I think all of us have at least at one point had someone try to date us for our money and connections. Plus, there’s what happened to me.”

We both grimace.

“It’s what makes dating so damn hard,” she whines with a heavy groan. “It’s why we’re here ordering pizza on a Friday night. I mean, I hardly know how to meet guys anymore let alone trust them. They ask my name, and the moment I say it, it’s over. Red hair, Keegan. They know I’m Keegan Fritz.”

“My name is Wren. I have the same problem. Plus, I don’t trust guys enough to go home with them anymore.” Any sex I’ve had in the last two-plus years has been in public, as messed up as that sounds. Bar bathrooms or coat closets. That’s what happens when your safety is stolen from you, and you trust no one.

That and the number four becomes your safety blanket.

“Fuck this and fuck them. Let’s get dressed up and go out. If we meet someone, we meet someone, and we do it on our terms, not theirs. If we don’t, then at least we look hot and had some fabulous drinks we didn’t have to mix ourselves.”

“Let’s do it. But I have to borrow clothes.” Clothes that likely won’t fit me because Keegan has some serious curves that I’ll never have unless I visit a plastic surgeon. I have the physical resemblance of a green bean—long, thin, and straight—whereas she’s, well, I can’t think of a vegetable that looks like an hourglass, but that’s her.

She’s Jessica Rabbit, and I’m… Rapunzel.

Cute, blonde hair quirkiness, and all.

“I have a dress that’ll fit you,” she says as if reading my mind. “It was Katy’s from when she temporarily lived here. Come on. Let’s get fucking hot.”

An hour later, the pizza is in the fridge, and we’re fucking hot just as she demanded as we walk through the doors of a swanky bar-slash-restaurant in the Seaport District. The walls are exposed brick, and the lights are dim gold Edison bulbs hanging from Art Deco light fixtures. It’s a speakeasy with good drinks and food, a big bar, and lots of men still wearing their financial district attire.

Yawn. So not my type, but whatever. A guy in a dark corner or bathroom doesn’t need to be my type, and I sure as hell don’t care about his portfolio.

“Evenin’, ladies,” the pretty bartender shouts to us to be heard over the Celtics game that’s on the TV and the loud sounds of the bar. She drops two napkins on the bar top. “Are we having dinner or just drinks?”

“Both,” we answer together, and she hands us some menus.

“This is so much better,” Keegan states as she peruses the menu.

“It is,” I agree. “I’m already feeling better.”

Today in the ER wasn’t bad. Daffy is a good teacher and lets me do more than just shadow her. Plus, I barely saw Jack, and word has it that he’s out the second half of next week. The less I have to see of him, the better. I can’t stand the man, and yet he’s like a car crash to me. I can’t look away.

I may hate him, but my attraction to him hasn’t waned. I wasn’t lying when I told him he’s scary hot. And in scrubs? I have no idea how his patients and the other nurses and doctors don’t jump him in those because the jerk wears them better than these guys wear their bespoke duds.

But he’s still Jack. He’s still a bastard with a mouth that makes me want to rake his eyes out.

“What are you having?”

I study the menu, scrolling down the drinks first. “I think that cherry bomb Manhattan.” I bounce over to the food. “And one of every appetizer.”

Keegan snorts. “I’m down for the appetizers minus the carpaccio because raw beef is just asking for food poisoning. And I think⁠—”

“Do you ladies know what you’d like?” the bartender asks, and we both place our order, which includes every appetizer minus the carpaccio.

“Cheers!” We clink our glasses together, and just as the first sip of alcohol hits my lips, it comes flying right back out in a spray of brown.

“Ew! What the hell?!” Keegan gasps since I partially got her in my explosion.

I grab her shoulder and spin her around on her chair so she can see the two men five seats down from us at the bar.

“What—oh. Oh shit.”

“Yes. Oh shit.”

“Next time say it, don’t spray it.”

I roll my eyes and drop my face lower so Jack can’t see me as he turns toward Alden to say something. Alden Hughes is now the CEO of Hughes Healthcare. It was his dad’s company and his grandfather’s before that. Alden’s parents and Jack’s parents are BFFs, but I don’t know Alden all that well.

“What is he doing here?” I hiss in Keegan’s ear as she takes a bar napkin and wipes down the part of her dress I got.

“Probably the same thing we’re doing,” she mutters dryly. “Having dinner, drinks, and looking for hookups.”

My lips twist, and a sour taste fills my mouth.

“Was Alden that good-looking when I used to screw around with him?”

“I have no idea,” I gripe impatiently. “The last time I saw him, I think I was still wearing braces.” And obsessing over Jack as my future mister. Ugh. Gross.

“Should we invite them to join us?”

“No!” I shriek and spin her back around. “Are you kidding me with that?”

“What?” She shrugs. “I like Alden. We used to fool around a hundred years ago. And he did not require a map or a flashlight.”

Yeah, neither did Jack. Not helping me right now.

“We should leave.”

“Um, no.” She shakes her head. “We just ordered a ridiculous amount of food, and the Cs are on.”

“What do I do?”

She smirks at me. “Try not to look so panicked. It’s Jack. He hates you just as much as you hate him, so relax.”

Right. Relax. He does hate me as much as I hate him. There’s comfort in that. But why the hell do I keep running into him? The hospital isn’t enough?

“Besides, I doubt they’ll⁠—”

“Keegan? Is that you?”

I give her a really look.

“—notice us,” she finishes with a sheepish grin. “Sorry.” She turns back around with a plastered smile across her face. “Alden? Wow. It’s so good to see you.”

She stands in her sky-high heels, and he comes around to hug her and kiss her cheek. I’d say hi to him, too, except I’m now locked in a visual battle with my boss, who’s glaring at me with the same exuberance as if I just covered him in crazy glue and sprinkled him with rainbow glitter. He mutters something under his breath I can’t make out, but instinctively know it isn’t kind.

“Oh my gosh! You guys should totally join us,” Keegan exclaims, and I’m ready to strangle my cousin. She’s family. I can do that, and her parents and twin will still have to love me. Because what the fuck, Keegan?! Is she kidding me?

Alden comes over and gives me a hug. He’s nice like that. “Yes, we’d love to,” Alden replies, equally enthusiastic. He turns back to Jack. “Right? Should we get a table then?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” I say, but Alden waves that off.

“Nonsense. It’s been forever since I’ve seen you both. I’ll go let the host know.”

Keegan comes scrambling back over to me with a smile that tells me everything before she even has to say it. “Oh my god, he’s so hot. I want that tonight.”

“Keegan—”

“I know, I know. Jack. I’ll owe you big time, okay? Please, please do this for me.” She holds her hands up in supplication. “You’re used to ignoring him anyway.”

Argh. “Fine,” I groan. “Because I love you, and you will owe me for this.”

“Promise. All drinks and food are on me tonight too.” She kisses my cheek and grabs both of our drinks. Alden waves his hand in the air and points to a table, and we head in that direction.

“I think I’m going to take off,” I catch Jack saying to him as we approach the table.

“Aw, come on.” Alden slaps him on the back. “You were just telling me how you never go out. Stay for at least one more drink with us, then you can go hit on every woman at the bar.”

Barf. Knowing that’s what he was here to do, my face heats and my insides flinch as if someone is jabbing my organs with a red-hot poker. Naturally, Keegan takes the seat beside Alden, and now she’s going to owe me a kidney I can sell on the black market because I’m forced in beside Jack, who looks just as unhappy about this as I am.

The name of the game tonight with him is avoidance as it always is. But how can you avoid someone when their large frame is pressed against yours? The booth is too small. Not a problem for Keegan and Alden, but a huge problem for me and Jack. Our thighs are touching. Our arms are touching. And I’m not wearing a whole lot. Hardly anything.

Something Jack notices as he stares down at our thighs and curses. This time I hear him. He’s rigid while doing his best to create separation between us, even going so far as practically half-sitting in the walkway, and by doing so, almost trips a poor server with a tray loaded up with food.

Alden and Keegan are already playing catchup from times gone by, and while I’m happy for her because he’s always liked her and he’s not Loomis-I-only-want-to-be-friends-Powell, this night turned on me. I lift my drink and take a large swig only to finish it off.

“Another?” Jack asks me, and his voice startles me. Probably because I didn’t expect him to speak to me.

I glance up, capturing his icy-blue eyes with mine, and nod.

He signals a passing waitress and waves a hand, indicating that I should order. I get myself a second Manhattan because why not, and she leaves only for our food to be delivered a moment later. Except now I’m not hungry.

Jack picks up a Wagyu spring roll. “You should eat,” he tells me as if reading my mind.

“Why’s that?” I can’t keep the contempt from my voice.

“Because you’re drinking strong drinks.”

“Thanks, Dad. Last I checked, I know how to take care of myself.”

“Do you though?”

Sometimes. Sometimes I’m better at it than others, but I think that’s all of us and not just me.

“You don’t have to be nice to me.”

“This isn’t me being nice. But you don’t have to be short with me,” he retorts. “Here.” He picks up the plate that was sitting in front of me and loads it up with some of everything. “There. Eat, please. I don’t want to have to scrape you off the bar floor.”

I roll my eyes at him, making sure he sees my annoyance, but I dutifully pop a piece of calamari in my mouth anyway.

“Good girl.”

I nearly choke. Did he just…

I peek back up at him, but he’s not paying me any attention. His gaze is cast over my head toward the TVs at the bar so he can see the game. He obviously didn’t mean it that way. Must be nice to be that tall. On my left is a foggy glass partition I can’t see through. My second drink is delivered, and Keegan belts out a loud giggle. I sigh. I wonder how long I have to sit here with her.

I pick it up and start gulping it down. I wouldn’t mind getting a little or even a lot drunk right now.

“Did you drive?” Jack asks, still not looking at me.

“No. We Ubered.”

“Finish up, and I’ll take you home.”

Now I choke again. This time on my Wagyu. “Excuse me?”

His chin drops, and for a moment he doesn’t speak. He just stares straight into my eyes with a look that makes my chest tight and my belly flutter. He shifts, and more of his thigh brushes mine along with… his hand? No, it’s his thumb. Just a swipe of his blunt nail where the hem of my dress meets my thigh.

Is that intentional or incidental given the confines of our booth?

“Let me rephrase,” he speaks in a low voice. “I’ll drop you off at home.”

I shake my head. “I’d rather Uber.”

“And I’d rather you not get into a strange car with a strange driver looking like sex on legs.”

Defiantly, I glare up at him. “Lucky for me, it’s not your call to make.”

His jaw clenches, but what can he say? It’s not. I’m an adult, and while I don’t relish taking an Uber home by myself, that’s preferable to sitting in the car alone with Jack for twenty-five minutes.

“Are you ever not stubborn?” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“With you? No. Never.”

He shakes his head, his face twisted in dismay. He returns to the game, and I return to my drink and food, but after a few minutes, it’s as if he can’t take it anymore, and his mouth comes down by my ear.

“If you were mine, Cinderella, I’d take you over my knee and spank your beautiful ass red for intentionally being a brat and disobeying me.”

I gasp only to bite into my lip to hide it. As it is, my pulse skyrockets, and my core floods with heat and wetness.

“Now be a good girl for once and let me drive you home so I know you’re safe,” he rasps against my ear, his hot breath making me shudder and my eyes momentarily close.

I can’t. Not after that. Not with him asking me to be a good girl and telling me he’ll spank me otherwise. Every cell of my body is wired to hate that. The strong, assertive, I’ve been through hell with men trying to take my control from me woman hates that.

Yet, inexplicably, I want him to spank me while I squirm and whimper and beg.

I want him to have me over his strong thighs and slip his hand up my dress to feel how wet he just made me. I want him to make me feel safe and coveted and owned.

What. The. Fuck?

“Let me out.” I start to shove at him. I have to go. Now.

Dutifully, he slips out of the booth. I hear him say something to Alden and Keegan about how he’s going to drive me home, but I don’t wait on him, and I don’t say goodbye. I race for the bathroom, and once the door is shut behind me, I order my Uber. There’s no way in hell I’m letting Jack Kincaid drive me home. Not after that.

But worse, I have no idea how I’m going to face him again.