Love to Hate You: An Enemies to Lovers, Best Friend's Brother Romantic Comedy (The Fillmores Book 2)

by Melissa Schroeder

  You might lose her forever.

  Those words are circling around in my brain. Right now, I couldn’t give a shit about Flipping Texas. None of that will matter if Nancy isn’t there. It was her idea for me to pitch to At Home, she’s the creative genius behind most of our episodes. But it isn’t that part I’d miss. It is her. Just her. If she isn’t in my life…I’d rather just not think about that.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nod, although I am barely paying attention to the movie when she restarts it. Yes, I knew she might leave the show. I came up here to convince her to come back, but it is hitting me that my worry is not about the show. It’s about us. About how much I need her in my life.

  I can’t fail. She laughs at something, and I glance at her. When she’s happy, it’s the most amazing thing. Her laugh, the way her eyes dance, the curve of her lips…

  I shift my weight on the sofa cushions trying to ease the pressure in my pants. From the moment I brought my things into her house, I’ve been half hard. I don’t know what it is but being here with her is different than all the times before.

  “Are you going to eat any?”

  I blink and look over at her, then down at the popcorn. I grab a handful and offer her a smile as I crunch on the savory, buttery snack. Yeah, this is different. I’m embarrassed that I am using a threat to her life to stay at her house, but desperate times call for insane measures.

  “You’re acting weird.”

  I look at her. Yeah, I am. Usually, I’m laughing along with her and discussing the movie, especially one that we’ve seen a couple times together.

  “Just thinking.”

  She leans closer and sniffs the air around me. “Oh, yeah, I thought I smelled something burning.”

  “I thought maybe you had decided to cook something other than popcorn.”

  She throws her head back and laughs. “That’s true.”

  The tension dissipates a little, and we watch the rest of the movie without any odd moments. An hour later I’m lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Josh has a deputy outside keeping an eye on things until Grady can get someone here to keep surveillance on Nancy and the house. The alarm is set, and everything is quiet.

  But I can’t sleep.

  You might lose her forever.

  Yeah, the show could come to an end, but right now, that isn’t important. No, what bothers me is that she might be out of my life. No Nancy texts where she mocks me. Or the inappropriate jokes.

  Evil Sis: Hey, didn’t hear back from you so I thought you might need some guidance.

  Yeah, sure, Syd. I want my sister telling me what to do about my love life.

  Still, I can’t ignore her texts because if there is one person who knows Nancy better than I do, it’s Syd.

  Me: Of course you do.

  Evil Sis: You will not lose her if you take a chance.

  Me: How can you be sure of that?

  And why am I texting with my sister about this? It’s weird. Well, we are weird. With an absent father, a drug addict mother, and an asshole of grandfather as caregivers, we only had each other. Until we met Nancy. Then it was always the three of us. But Syd and me, we are closer than a lot of siblings.

  Evil Sis: All those feelings you hid through the years, they are mutual.

  I blink down at the text. She’s telling me that Nancy loves me? Is this her way of gently nudging me?

  Evil Sis: Just…dkawenaweotin

  I blink. Did my sister just have a stroke?

  Evil Sis: Sorry, Grady tried to take my phone away from me. Just tell her how you feel. Honesty always works best.

  I sigh and put my phone back on the bedside table. According to my sister, her best friend returns my feelings. What do I do about that?

  I fucking go for it.

  That’s what I do. With a smile on my face, I start to plan. Nancy isn’t going to know what hit her. I just have to be patient and, thankfully, we are stuck with each other for a few days. Tomorrow morning, I will set my plan into motion.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nancy

  Three long days and I’m ready to run out to whoever is trying to screw with me and offer myself up on a platter. Yes, it makes me a bit of a drama queen, but I can’t help it. If you were here, you would feel the same way. I promise. Things have escalated in other ways—not that I think I need to worry that much about some loser who decided he needed to knife my tire. It’s a little disturbing, but nothing else has happened, so hopefully that means he moved on. Or maybe, it just was some idiot with nothing to do and he wanted to knife any tire.

  In Juniper, things are going as usual. Josh tried to keep a lid on it, but someone from his office blabbed—probably that Jamie Crocker whose grandma is one of the most active in the LOL group. As soon as everyone was alerted to the issue, they have been stopping by and bringing me food. Because, you know, being stuck at home is the perfect time to be laden down with all kinds of carbs.

  So, yeah, I have been stuffing my face. I mean, no one brings me a salad, and I have to do something with my feelings, so I eat. A LOT. I probably gained five pounds since Travis moved in.

  We do go out here and there, but I am trying to stick close to home for a couple of reasons. One, I am just not in the mood to deal with questions about the situation. People in Juniper have no problem walking right up and making rude inquiries. The other reason is I don’t want to have any of those idiots get caught in the crossfire. Do I think the stalker is going to come after me with a gun? No. If it is someone after me, it just seems like he wants to bother me. He knows I made it home okay, but there hasn’t been a peep. My car is sitting in my garage right now. I get the feeling this is more about giving me crap, making me uncomfortable. I’ve read a lot of information about stalkers since this started. I’m stuck at home for the most part, so I have to fill my days with something. So, I obsess, reading the accounts.

  Most of them go this way: stalker starts obsessing. Gifts happen…sometimes. Then, they get angry at the lack of one on one interaction. It soon turns to rage that either ends in their arrest or the death of whoever they are obsessed with. First thing I’m irritated with is that I never experienced the gift part. I mean, isn’t that par for the course? And yes, I know that I’m complaining about a stalker not sending me weird gifts. Second thing that bothers me is there was never a contact…like the honeymoon phase of the stalking. Although there is a chance I just didn’t notice. Things get sent to a PO Box at the studio or to my agent in New York. Still, it doesn’t feel as if they are obsessed with me in a ‘I used to be in love with you’ way. This feels more like whoever it is, he’s pissed at me about something. The list of those people is probably long.

  Josh has run out of leads. Like, there is no one who hates me enough to want to kill me, which is great, except that it leaves me without knowing who is threatening me. Because no matter how much I try to think otherwise, the rational part of my brain tells me that someone wants to hurt me. Or at least scare me. Even Reggie checked out, and he’s already left town. With a little digging, Josh found out that he’s almost flat broke, so apparently my grandmother was trying to sell me off. Or it appears that way. It gives me such warm fuzzies. I know that he will be at my grandmother’s birthday party on Friday. And Josh thinks that if Reggie had anything to do with the stalking, he would have hired someone to do it and I agree. Reggie is the kind of man who expects other people to do the hard work.

  With no indication that the stalker—I hate using that term but what do you call the person who knifed your tire—is even still in town, I should be relaxed, right? But I am not. Not by a very long shot.

  No, because there is a six foot-five-inch problem traipsing around my house every day. You know, the sexy mountain man I’m in love with. Every day he pushes me a little further into insanity. Those dimples and chocolate eyes. My pussy is ready to take control of my every thought and action. I am steadily losing control of my own body. He tempts me like no other man, and I’m at t
he end of my rope. If we don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to jump Travis. At this point, I don’t know if I’ll kill him or kiss him. It’s a toss-up. And it’s like he knows how I feel or something. He seems to find reasons not to wear his shirt all the time. No matter what, I see all that glorious flesh at least twice a day. It takes all of my control not to lean forward and take a huge bite out of one his pecs, then lick down his torso, tracing the ridges in his abs with my tongue.

  I close my eyes and try to get my libido under control. My fingers itch to touch every inch of him. I open my eyes and grab my iced tea. Even as I’m sitting here complaining, I’m suffering through the midday heat, with the sun beating down on me. All because Travis is working in my flower beds. No, that is not a euphemism. Instead, it is the truth. I am actually sitting here on my back patio, but right now, do I need to watch him, looking like a Norse god with rippling muscles, his flesh slick with sweat? No. I do not.

  I’m sure you think I should go inside, but that doesn’t matter. First off, I was out here for an hour before he stepped out wearing a pair of paint splattered jeans that ride so low on his hips that I get an excellent view of the V that points straight to his dick. And abs. The man has an eight-pack. There’s a reason he always makes those online lists for hottest hunk on reality TV. His back and arm muscles bunch with each move and if I didn’t know better, I would think he was doing it on purpose. It’s stupid to think that way, because it is kind of hard not to use muscles to move. I know I’m not making any sense, but I lay the blame on the half-naked delicious man now carefully planting my begonias.

  “Nancy?”

  I blink and look beside me and realize that Everly is standing there. I didn’t even hear her walk up. My face flushes as I stand up.

  “Oh, hey.”

  She looks at me, then out at Travis, then back at me. “So, admiring the view?”

  “No. I was working on some designs.” I wave my iPad in front of her.

  “Sure. Can I see them?”

  “Not good enough right now.” Lies. I have done nothing.

  The look she gives me tells me that she doesn’t believe me. It’s then that I take in her outfit. Her hair now has streaks of pink throughout the short dark tresses. She’s got another t-shirt, this one saying, “I’m going to Hell on a full scholarship.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We dropped off some goodies.”

  “We?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Becca is talking to Mrs. Peterson, but I put Becca’s cake in the kitchen. Looks like a freaking bakery in there.”

  I groan. “Not the pound cake.”

  Everly nods. Great. More eating my feelings. Truth is, if this goes on much longer, I won’t be able to leave the house. Not because of danger but because my ass won’t fit out the door. Good thing we aren’t filming. I mean, good thing I’m done with the show.

  Inwardly I chastise myself. I still haven’t given Travis an answer, mainly because my mind is scrambled. I need to be away from him and his pheromones. Those bastards are messing with my brain.

  “Everly,” Becca calls out. I turn and watch her as she practically skips out. “We need to get back the store.”

  “Thanks for the pound cake.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Today, she’s wearing a long flowing dress that looks like a hippie from the 1970s designed it. She has on a pair of sunglasses with round frames and pink lenses. Her usually curly hair is straight and she’s wearing a crown of flowers in her hair. She could be the poster child for the cutest hippie.

  “Hey, Travis,” Becca calls out. I turn and find him watching us. He waves, then starts back digging. Becca leans closer. “Nice view.”

  “She’s not paying any attention to him. She’s working,” Everly says in a tone that tells me she still doesn’t believe me. The friends are offering up two identical smiles. Ugh.

  I frown at them and cross my arms beneath by breasts, which isn’t easy since I’m holding my tablet in one hand. “Go away.”

  “We were wondering if you wanted to do a girls’ night out soon. Maybe get Syd up here?” Becca says.

  “I’ll ask. Grady is being a little insane about the situation, but as soon as it gets cleared up, I’m sure she would be all for it. Just without the night in jail.”

  “I’m still upset I missed that,” Everly says with a chuckle.

  When Grady and Syd hit a rough patch a few months back, we went drinking in town. It ended up with a fist fight with a jerk and a night in jail for each of us. Not our finest moment, that’s for sure.

  I see them to the front door, waving to them as they drive off. It took a little extra time because Becca had to talk to my security detail. I saw Frank, who is our main tail when we go out, smile for the first time since he arrived two days ago.

  I shut the door and turn, just to squeak when I realize Travis is standing there.

  “They brought us pound cake?”

  I nod. Becca’s pound cake has won awards. Everything she makes is like magic, like the woman herself.

  He’s so close, I can’t speak. My entire body is throbbing as the scent of his exertion and sawdust—still one of my favorite scents—fills the air around me. Also, he’s still not wearing a shirt. Like, it’s cold in the house. Maybe not because I feel my body temperature rising with each second.

  “Is something wrong?”

  I shake my head. Yep, I’m not going to say a word. If I speak, there is a good chance my voice will crack like Peter Brady’s. And I am now realizing I have been watching too many sitcoms from the 1970s.

  “Nancy, come on. Did I do something?”

  Did he just lean closer? I think he did. Or maybe I did. Who knows? Who cares? I need to get away from him because I’m not even making sense in my head.

  “Nothing’s wrong, Travis.” I scoot around him and take off for the kitchen. Of course, he follows me. Why? Because I’m convinced I was an asshole in a former life. This is payback for something I did.

  “Yes, there is. You look upset with me.”

  I stop at the counter where the pound cake sits. I wonder what would happen if I ate the entire thing. Like, maybe I should shove it all in my mouth. That might get Travis to leave me alone. No. Better idea. Fill a massive glass with wine and go soak in the tub while eating the pound cake. Behind a locked door because I want to do it in private.

  “Nancy.”

  I look at him from the corner of my eye, and he’s standing there looking like his feelings are hurt. And yes, he still has not put on a shirt. That one little fact has my temper boiling over. Or maybe it is the increased sugar I’ve taken into my body in the last forty-eight hours. Oh, and my raging libido that will probably wear out my favorite vibrator soon.

  “You want to know what’s wrong?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I’ve eaten my weight in sugar in just the last couple of days. Each day we go out, people come up and want to discuss my issue. My grandmother’s asshole driver taught her how to text.” Yeah, there is that also. Every day she sends me texts letting me know this is all my fault. As if to prove my point, my phone dings somewhere in the house. I think I left it in the office again. It was the only way to avoid her texts.

  “I’m sorry about that, but I don’t know why you’re taking it out on me.” He looks innocent, like he really has no idea why I’m irritated with him. There’s a good chance that he doesn’t know, but I don’t think he’s that oblivious.

  “Really?”

  He shakes his head as his brow wrinkles in confusion and he crosses his arms over his chest. God, that’s almost worse. I watch his muscles bunch and it just isn’t fair. All that sinewy muscle flexing. ARGH.

  “Do you not own a shirt? Like, you never seem to have one on. Do we need to set up a donation page so that you can get a shirt or two?”

  His face goes blank. “It bothers you?”

  “Of course it does. Traipsing around in my
yard, all sweaty and sexy, and I’m supposed to be working. How am I supposed to do that? Tell me!”

  He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut.

  “Great. That sums all this up. Just find a damned shirt, Travis.”

  I turn to leave him and go take a cold shower, or something, but he grabs me and tugs me back. I fall against him, my hands landing on his chest. His heart thunders in his chest and I look up at him.

  “Travis?”

  “It’s about damned time,” he mutters, then slams his mouth down on mine.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Travis

  The moment our mouths touch, my entire world shifts, heat blasting through me, and leaving me dizzy. Just that simple contact has me almost coming in my pants, but I hold it back, barely. I’d have been embarrassed, but I have my dream girl plastered up against me right now. I am only a normal, hot-blooded male and resisting her is beyond my control. Yes, it’s just from a simple kiss, and I’m not really ashamed to admit it.

  I don’t know what I expected. For the last few days, I’ve walked around half-aroused in anticipation. I couldn’t take that last step until she caved, but I spent the last three nights whacking off so much I’m amazed my dick didn’t fall off. All she would have to do is walk near me and my dick went on high alert. I’ve always had that issue with her but not to the extent of these last few days. The expectation of her finally telling me she wanted me as much as I wanted her increased my inability to control my cock. Every time I stripped out of my shirt; I could feel her gaze roaming over my torso. Each time pushed me close to the edge of no return. I definitely wouldn’t have been able to hold back if I had known she would react this way.

  She’s returning my kiss with all the fervor I feel threading through my veins. Her tongue slides along mine and sends a zing of heat down to my dick. Fuck, this woman. I can taste her need, her sultry scent surrounding me. Fuck, I can feel the heat of her pussy even through our layers of clothes. My cock is so hard that I’ll be amazed if my zipper doesn’t bust from pressure.