Undeniably Enemies: Chapter 32

“You’re sure about this?” I ask Jack as we stroll into the bookstore in the Prudential Mall, three hours after he bought us breakfast. Yes, I hate to admit it, but I lost. First time he didn’t let me win either.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks even as he throws me a questioning look.

“I’m just saying, once you start down this road, there’s no going back.”

“They’re books, Wren. I read those two you suggested and I’ve listened to a few others. No biggie.”

I raise a dubious eyebrow. “How late did you stay up listening to the one you finished the other day?”

If possible, I think Jack is blushing. He clears his throat and looks around the store that’s already decorated for the holidays with Christmas music being piped through the speakers. Thanksgiving is in less than three weeks, and this is easily my favorite time of year.

“Fine. I’ll take your warning under advisement.” He turns back to me with a devilish smirk that does wild things to my insides. “Or we can just stay up late reading them together.”

He leans in and drops a kiss on the corner of my lips while simultaneously giving my hand that he’s holding a squeeze. We’re out in the open in the freaking mall together. Anyone could see us like this, but he’s holding my hand, and I like it too much to pull away or stop it. Jack and I ate dinner in front of the TV last night while we bickered over what movie to watch. He ate from my plate because he said my food tasted better than his, even though it was the same thing. After, we went to bed for more hot, dirty sex, talked for hours, and then he slept over.

But he didn’t just sleep in my bed.

The bastard held me all night. After he said, “Good night, beautiful Wren. I love you.” Then, of course, there was rolling around in bed this morning followed by the run from hell.

We’re doing this. Like full-on, in a relationship doing this. At least that’s what he says, and the whiplash is something else. I’ve trained myself to hate this man for years. Not love him. But what I told him was the truth. This is the grown woman, you pulled a trick play and snuck your puck past my goalie and into my net and scored on me kind of love.

It’s the where is this going, want to scream about it from the rooftops and talk about it all day long to the point where I annoy the fuck out of my girlfriends, I’m way too into him kind of love. And I don’t want that kind of love again. Not with him. I mean, I do. I do want it. Only like he said to me last night, I’m scared of it.

But I’m trying not to be.

I’m trying to have faith that this time, I won’t get railroaded and crushed. Same as him.

So I’m holding his hand as we’re book shopping and then going out for lunch because that’s what couples do on Saturdays. At least I think that’s what they do. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a healthy relationship before, and that alone gives me pause and makes me consider what this is a little harder.

“And here we are. What should our next read be? I like audio for while I’m working out or running, but I like a paperback for night.”

I laugh lightly, shaking my head at his incorrigible smile that never fails to make my belly swoop and flutter. “What tropes do you want?”

His face pinches up. “We’re back there, huh?”

“It’s an important topic for any romance book lover.”

“Wren, I’ll be honest with you. I have no clue what tropes are what. I read the story and the sex is hot. That’s it.”

I contain my smirk. “But what about microtropes, though?”

His eyes bulge. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

I giggle and bite into my lip. “Not even a little.”

He drags a hand across his face and back through his hair as he dauntingly stares at the romance section. “They’re just books.”

“Oh no,” I correct him with a hand on his chest, my other panned toward the stacks of books. “These are not just books. These are feels. These are swoons. These are screams. These are strength. These are oh my fucking god, did he just do that? These are holy shit, I want that done to me. These are I’ll never be the same after reading that, and this now lives rent-free in my head for eternity.”

“Shit. I’m so out of my league here. You pick.”

“I picked the last two. Your turn.”

He stares balefully at the hundreds of books before us and nervously turns back to me. “I have no clue where to start. I just continued the series because I didn’t know who else I’d like or what would be good.” Then he laughs. “Maybe I should ask Owen. I remember Katy put a few books like this on his bookshelves for him to read.”

I scrunch my nose. “Um, no. And can we just not? That’s my brother.”

He glances around, and when he’s sure the coast is clear, he drags me into his chest and his mouth into my neck. “Thanks for the reminder.” He kisses me, a warm trail of them up and down my sensitive skin that leaves goose bumps in their wake. “Do you like suspense or action?”

I shrug against him. “I’ve never tried it, but I’m sorta indifferent if not meh.”

“Oh, baby. Don’t knock it till you try it.” He nibbles on my pulse—it’s one of his favorite spots. “Let’s go with a suspense one because typically that’s what I’ve read in the past. Without the hot and heavy sex, but I’m positive we can find one that incorporates both. The other we’ll go with…”

“Something funny. I could use a romcom to balance out the suspense and action.”

He kisses just beneath my ear, his arms wrapped around my stomach as he holds me close. “Perfect.” He squeezes my boobs. “Like these.”

I swat his hands away, but he’s gone before I can even get a good hit in, already at the shelves and digging through in search of the perfect book.

We end up with two. One titled Catching Sin, where she’s under a mob boss’s thumb, and he plants her in a casino to work for the people who run it, except she ends up falling for her boss there, who’s a lot older than her and a bit of a golden retriever alpha hero, which I like. There’s also no scary ex in it, so that’s a win for me. The romcom we pick up is a Christmas book about an Irish rock star or something. I don’t know, but it sounded adorable and steamy.

Armed with our books, we walk back out into the mall and toward the food court.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

He shrugs and looks around at all the people. “We gotta eat.”

“Right, but I thought that would consist of a quiet, dark restaurant where we sat in the back like a couple of criminals. Not out here in the middle of the food court during Saturday traffic.”

He twists me around and takes my other hand, holding both between us. “Talk to me.”

I stare up at him, a bit bewildered. “Why aren’t you worried about this?”

“Which part?”

“Getting caught.”

“Who says I’m not?”

I shrug. “You’re not acting that way.” I widen my eyes and exaggeratedly look around at the hundreds of people swarming about us.

He sighs. “You’re right. I don’t know. I’m happy. I’m happy being with you. I’m happy doing this. I’m just… happy. I haven’t been happy in a very long time, and I haven’t had anyone I’ve wanted to hang out with like this in just as long. I know, I’m being cavalier and stupid, and we did agree on keeping this quiet for very good reasons. Should we get food and go?”

I feel like a killjoy. The man went book shopping with me. Smutty romance book shopping. He held my hand and listened to my concerns about my next rotation in trauma surgery and helped guide me through them. A specialty he wanted to be his but lost out on. Your heart is my end piece. My checkmate. The place I’d like to start calling home if you’d let me.

It’s still surreal to me to find myself here with him like this, but it’s something I shouldn’t take for granted. Not for a moment. Not after what we went through yesterday and again this morning. Not after all he did for me and the words he spoke with it.

“Maybe not the food court. I don’t want to ruin this because I’m happy too, and I’m having fun. I just don’t want anyone we know to see us and ruin everything.”

His lips twitch. “That would suck. You know, since I’m your dirty mistress.”

I laugh. “I prefer dirty slut.”

His eyes sparkle. “Only for you. Okay, let’s go. We’ll grab food in a quiet, dark Irish pub somewhere. This is Boston. I’m positive we can find one. Tomorrow afternoon I’m supposed to go out to the compound and see your grandmother.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Just to check on her. I haven’t had a chance since she was discharged and I’d like to see she’s okay with my own eyes instead of hearing her feed me lines.” He hesitates. “Would it be weird if you came?”

I gnaw on my lip. “Maybe we’ll bring some others with us?”

He taps my nose. “Good idea.”

We head toward the exit, but he stops at a gourmet coffee kiosk. The man has a thing for coffee—it’s his one expensive vice—which is why I have no clue how he manages the stuff at work. He orders one for both of us, and I get the best idea of what I’m going to get him for Christmas.

The thought makes me giggle, and he throws me a side-eye as we head outside into the cold November day and cross the street at Boylston. “What?”

“Nothing. I was thinking about what I want to get you for Christmas and how weird it is that I’m even thinking that.”

“Same. I already picked out your diamond. Now all I need is your ring size.”

Coffee scalds my tongue and sprays from my mouth like a black wave, narrowly missing some people passing us, though it doesn’t stop them from giving me the dirtiest looks imaginable.

Jack tries very hard to hide his amusement even as I give him a scathing look that would make a lesser man’s balls shrivel.

“Not there yet?”

“You’re such a bastard!” I smack his arm only to think better of it and grab his sleeve to wipe my chin. It makes him laugh and rub his arm all over my face until I have to shove him off. “Quit it. Since when are you like this? You’re never funny?”

“I’ve always been funny.”

I shake my head. “No. You’ve never been funny.”

“I have my moments. And I’m probably more sarcastic than funny.”

True. He might have always been sarcastic. But this is a different man.

“I told you I’m happy. Get used to it. It’s a new look on me.”

“I’m not sure I like it.”

He tosses his arm around my shoulder and brings me into his side so he can whisper in my ear, his hot breath automatically making me shudder. “Yes, you do. You like it a lot.”

Fine. I might like it. I might like it a lot.

Sundays at my grandparents’ compound look like what most people would consider a family reunion. Most of my uncles and aunts are here, along with several of my cousins and closest friends. Football is on in the media room—Mason is playing in Cleveland—and a Disney movie is on in one of the lounges for Rory and Willow for when they’re not splashing around in the indoor pool. There’s a roaring fire blazing in the library along with some card tables and bourbon—that’s where my grandfather is parked. And the solarium is set up with a full spread of food and a full bar.

“When you said bring a few others with us, this isn’t what I thought you meant,” Jack murmurs, making me laugh.

“I didn’t do this. The Fritz women did this. Well, them and Katy, but she’s essentially a Fritz woman even if not by blood.”

I think much of this has to do with the fact that my grandmother not only fell but had surgery, and even though she likes to play the role of the elderly spry woman, it gave us all a scare. Octavia Abbot-Fritz is immortal—we like to imagine her that way—and when she challenges us on that, we don’t like it.

“At least now we don’t have to worry about anyone looking at us too closely.”

I hold up my espresso martini to him. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Me too.” He taps my glass and takes a sip of his beer. “But you know, I don’t feel right—” He gets cut off when my brother comes over and claps him on the shoulder.

“What are your plans for Friday?” he asks Jack.

“Uh, I don’t know. It’s only Sunday.”

“Good. So you don’t have any. That means you can meet the woman Alden wants to set you up with.”

It takes everything in me not to choke on my sip of martini and swallow it down. As it is, the alcohol burns, and I scowl stupidly. Jack is looking right at me as he answers. He’s not even trying to hide it.

“I already told you guys I’m not interested in meeting her.”

“As I recall, you said you’d think about it. Or something like that,” Alden jumps in.

“That was a few weeks ago. I’ve thought about it, and I’m not interested.”

Keegan slurps down the rest of her drink and sits on the edge of the sofa beside me. “Want another, or do you think it’s too much booze for a Sunday afternoon?”

“I definitely want another,” I tell her. You know, since my brother is trying to set up my boyfriend with another woman because he doesn’t know he’s my boyfriend. “Bring on all the booze.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re still nervous about tomorrow,” Katy says on my other side, and now we’re surrounded. Bennett and Alden continue trying to get Jack to date this mystery girl I’m trying hard not to hate on principle.

“Jack, I’m telling you, she’s all fucking hot curves,” Alden exclaims. “You’ll love her.”

Vomit.

“You’re an ass. Who still talks that way about women?”

This is why I love Katy.

“She has a point. I would have thought you’d talk about her other attributes like her brain or sense of humor.”

“I did. None of you were listening to that part. All you heard was me talk about her curves. But you’re stacked like that,” Alden defends to Keegan. “And you have brains and a sense of humor. You’re the full package like this woman is, which is why I think Jack will like her.”

I can feel Jack’s gaze penetrating down on me, but I can’t meet it. Not with everyone here. Not with what they’re talking about. Since when do people try to set Jack up? That’s a new one.

“Maybe we should get Wren a guy, and we can all go out.”

“Ha. Very funny, Keegs. I’m going to shake up some more drinks. Anyone want to join me?”

Jack looks like he’s about to volunteer as tribute, but Owen isn’t having that. He turns to Jack, and the two of them start talking the way best friends do, in serious and low voices, and I head for the bar so I won’t try to hear what they’re saying or get jealous.

My grandmother is wrapped in discussion with my mother, Katy’s mother, and Keegan’s mother, and while it’s tempting to go join them, they’ll start asking me a million questions I’m in no mood to answer. I’m not mad at Jack. I’m the one who asked to keep it quiet, and I’m not changing my mind on that either. The buzzards that are swarming all over him are reason enough for that.

Right now, what Jack and I have is fun. It’s spicy. It’s new and a secret and I want to keep it between us. I want it to have the chance to grow, and I want us to discover what this is, who we are to each other, and where we can go without opinions and pressure that would inevitably come from everyone else.

But I don’t have to like them trying to set him up with a hot, curvy woman either.

I shake up my drink and refill my glass, and just as I take my first sip, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I slip it out and see a text from Jack.

Everyone seems preoccupied with whatever they’re doing, and I meander my way through the house toward the back stairs that lead up to the guest quarters. A thrill hits my pulse as I reach the door, tap lightly on it, and open it without waiting for an answer.

Jack pulls me in and shuts and locks it behind me. My drink ends up on the sink, and he has me pressed into the edge of it.

“I told them no.”

“You didn’t have to pull me in here to explain. I wasn’t worried about it.”

“You weren’t?” His eyebrows bounce in surprise.

“Not really. I mean, I didn’t love hearing about it, but I didn’t think you were going to agree to a date with another woman when I was right there.”

“I wouldn’t agree to date her or anyone else whether you were right there or not.” His hands shoot up my shirt and tug down my bra, where he immediately starts palming my tits. “These are what I like. These are perfect to me. I don’t know what the fuck Alden is talking about, other than that’s clearly what he’s into. It wouldn’t matter to me if you were tall⁠—”

“I am tall.”

“Shut up, woman. I’m making a point.”

I smile and nod for him to continue.

“It wouldn’t matter to me if you were tall or short. Curvy or slight. Big-boobed or small-chested. I don’t care, Wren. Seriously, I don’t. I love you for you. Fucking brat that you are. I know it’s only been a couple of days and you like our secret, but I don’t. I don’t like keeping things from Owen. I want to be a man and tell my best friend, your brother, that I’m in love with his sister and that I don’t give a fuck if he doesn’t like it.”

“It would be rather hypocritical of him if he didn’t.”

“I agree, which is why I’m not worried about it. But I want to tell them that they don’t have to set me up because I already have the girl I want, Wren.” He breathes out a heavy breath. “I hated—fucking hated—how Owen and Estlin kept their secret from me. It felt like yet another betrayal. It’s partially why I went so crazy that night. I need to tell him.”

Guilt claws at my chest, but I still think about how it’s been for everyone in my family when they go prime time with their relationships to my family. They have no peace. No quiet. It’s as if the world suddenly is holding a microscope on your relationship, and they immediately expect marriage and babies.

“I’m not ready. I want this as my own. I want this as ours. For just a bit longer. I know you want to tell Owen and I get it, but you saw them. They’re relentless, and they’d be like that with us.”

His gaze is hard for a very long, intense moment. “It’s wrong, Wren.”

“Just a few more weeks. That’s all I need.”

“I think that’s all I’ll be able to do. Because, sweetheart, sooner or later, we’ll get caught, and that’s not how I want us to get found out.”