Faking With The Enemy: An Enemies-To-Lovers RomCom: Milestone Mischief #2

by Piper James

  I took a deep breath of the crisp night air and blew it out. The noises from inside reminded me I should be in there, enjoying Rafe and Jessa’s Halloween-slash-housewarming party. But still, I didn’t budge from my perch on the back steps. I was still reeling, and it was too soon to come face to face with Nate. I needed to figure this out on my own, without his magnetic blue gaze influencing me.

  Because, despite all the hate we thrusted in each other’s directions—or maybe because of it—he still had the ability to affect me.

  The back door swung open, and I tensed, only to relax when I saw it was Jessa.

  “Mind if I join you?” she asked, parking next to me before I could answer.

  “Of course,” I said. “I was just getting some air.”

  “Not having fun?” she asked, and the weight of Nate’s proposal suddenly felt too heavy to hold on my own.

  I couldn’t talk to Rafe about it for obvious reasons, and Jessa was my closest girlfriend. Of course, she’d tell Rafe…

  “It’s not that,” I said with a sigh. I needed to get a different perspective, so I admitted, “It’s Nate.”

  “What’s the deal with you two?” she asked.

  “When I first met Rafe at the hospital, we became instant friends,” I said softly, realizing I needed to go back to the beginning. “I immediately felt this kinship with him, like he was a long-lost brother or something. But when I met Nate, my feelings were anything but sisterly.”

  I barked out a self-deprecating laugh, which Jessa seemed to ignore.

  “You were attracted to him?” she asked.

  I gave her an incredulous look. “Have you seen him?”

  “Eh,” she said, holding out a palm and tilting it back and forth. “He’s alright.”

  “Whatever,” I said, laughing for real this time. Then I sobered. “I thought I felt a connection. I was so into him, and I thought he liked me, too. But I was wrong.”

  “What happened?”

  “I caught him fucking some waitress in the bathroom at Hero’s.”

  “Shit,” she groaned. “I’m sorry, Ivy.”

  “It was a long time ago,” I said, waving a hand in the air. “I’m over it.”

  “Then why are you sitting out here all alone?” she asked, lifting one eyebrow.

  “Because he approached me tonight with a proposition. One I’m having trouble refusing, even though I know I should run fast in the other direction.”

  And as the words flowed past my lips, I realized they were true. Despite my logical brain screaming at me, begging me to avoid Nate and this harebrained scheme, something deep inside me wanted to help him. Maybe it was because he was Rafe’s brother. Rafe made me feel like part of the family, and family didn’t turn their backs on each other.

  Another voice in my head whispered, “Bullshit,” but I ignored that, too.

  “What is it?” she asked, and it took me a second to decipher the question.

  “I can’t say,” I said, realizing she wanted to know what the favor was. I didn’t know if it was supposed to be a secret or not, so I decided to err on the side of caution. “Anyway, thanks for listening. I’ll figure it out. Let’s go back inside.”

  I stood up with those quickly spoken words, and though Jessa’s expression was skeptical, she nodded and led the way.

  I spent the next hour avoiding Nate, never allowing myself to be caught alone. He didn’t try to force his presence on me, but I got snagged by the pleading glances he sent my way too many times to count. He was wearing me down, and I hated the fact that he was doing it so effortlessly.

  Was I really that weak? That a few earnest looks from across a crowded room would make me putty in his hands? No. If I was going to agree to his outlandish scheme, I needed to get something out of it, too.

  Something concrete. Something invaluable. Something to make the pain of pretending with him worth it.

  I let my gaze wander over him when his attention was diverted by Lola. His costume was equal parts uninventive and sexy as fuck—the mechanic’s coveralls accentuated his broad chest while leaving enough to the imagination to make a girl want to strip them off to discover what hid underneath. I forced the mental image from my head and focused on the obvious.

  Nate was an auto mechanic. And while his shop didn’t provide the service to general customers, I knew he had a talent for body work, too. His precious Mustang was a testament to his skill.

  And suddenly, I knew what I wanted.

  As if he could hear my thoughts, Nate looked my way, catching my eye with a hopeful expression. Steeling my spine, I jerked my head toward the front door before walking out as I tried, in vain, to keep my pace slow and steady. My heart was pounding, and I forced myself to believe it was because of what I would get out of this deal. Nothing more.

  Hell, I didn’t even know if he’d agree to it. But he had said anything.

  I walked to my car, and smashing the button on the fob to unlock the doors, I slid in behind the wheel. The passenger door was banging closed before I even got settled, Nate’s blue eyes burning into my profile. It was even worse than I imagined when I turned to meet his gaze. I nearly melted on the spot from its intensity.

  “I’ve decided on my terms,” I said.

  “Anything,” he shot back quickly. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  Whatever I want? No. Down girl. Bad Ivy.

  Clearing my throat, I nodded toward his car parked in the driveway behind Rafe’s SUV. “You rebuilt that thing pretty much from scratch, right?”

  His head turned slowly, his eyes wide as he focused on what was obviously his pride and joy. His head whipped back toward me, his eyes narrowed as that blue gaze burned into my skin.

  “You want my car?” he asked, though it sounded more like an accusation.

  Oh, this is too easy.

  “You did say you’d give me anything I wanted, Nate,” I replied, my voice firm as I tried like hell not to laugh.

  I didn’t want his car. I knew how much that thing meant to him, and I would never ask him to part with it. But a devil inside me wanted to know just how far he’d go to get me to agree to this fake engagement.

  “I did say that,” he murmured, his eyes losing focus as he considered my price.

  A myriad of emotions played across his features, ranging from outright obstinacy to careful deliberation to grim acceptance.

  “Fine. It’s yours.”

  My head flew back with surprise as I stared at him with wide eyes. Did he really just agree to give me his most prized possession? No, not most prized. The most important thing to him was his shop, and it was quickly becoming obvious that he really would do anything to protect it.

  “Relax, Nate. I don’t want your car,” I said, injecting enough flippancy into my tone to cover the sudden wave of respect that filled me at his sacrifice.

  “You don’t?” he asked, sounding so relieved, I couldn’t contain my chuckle.

  “No,” I said. “I only mentioned it because what I want is a custom rebuild.”

  His dark eyebrows pulled down as he considered my words. His gaze roamed the interior of my car, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. My low-budget economy car was no collector’s prize.

  “Not this car,” I clarified, and he blew out a relieved breath.

  At my glare, he held up his palms. “No offense, but there isn’t much I could do to make this thing look better. And I know it runs good, because I personally take care of the service and repairs.”

  He flinched slightly, like he hadn’t meant to let that little nugget of information slip. I took my car into his shop for regular service…it would be stupid of me not to. Walton’s was the best shop in town, and Nate grudgingly gave me the family discount—which meant free labor and parts for cost.

  But I just assumed Dane or one of the other mechanics took care of it. I had no idea Nate, himself did the work. I shook my head to clear it. I needed to refocus on the issue at hand.

  �
�You know my father passed away five years ago, right?” I asked, and he nodded. “Well, he had this project car that he’d been tinkering with for years. A gift for my mom that he never got a chance to finish.”

  “What kind of car?” he asked, his eyes gleaming in the dim interior vanity light.

  “A fifty-five Bel Air convertible,” I said.

  He whistled long and low. “A classic. Could be hard to find parts for it. How much work is left to be done?”

  “I have no idea,” I admitted. “It’s parked in a barn behind the house, and I haven’t been back there since my dad died. It was…too hard.”

  “And now?” he asked, his voice filled with a soft concern that warmed my insides uncomfortably.

  “Now, I think it would be the perfect Christmas gift for Mom from me and Dad.”

  “Christmas?” he croaked, his eyes flying wide again.

  “Do you think you could do it?” I asked. “I know it’s only a couple of months away…”

  “I won’t know until I can get a peek at it,” he admitted. “But if it can be done, I’ll do it.”

  He let that sink in for a minute, his eyes never leaving mine. A prickly sensation I couldn’t define tattooed up my spine. Maybe it was anticipation. Maybe it was foreboding. Whatever it was, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

  “So, do we have a deal?” he asked, holding out a hand between us.

  I sucked in a breath and slipped my hand into his, giving it a firm shake. “You fix my mom’s car, and I’ll be your devoted fiancée until Miss Glasscott backs off and you figure out the whole loan thing.”

  “Agreed,” he said, pumping my hand once more, then squeezing it slightly before letting it go. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and we can iron out the details.”

  Then he threw open the door and slipped out. Turning, he propped one arm on the top of the door frame and the other on the roof so he could lean back inside. Giving me a smile that had my traitorous toes curling, he patted the roof with his hand.

  “Thanks, Ivy. You’re really saving my ass.”

  He pulled out and slammed the door, striding away before I could even respond. And giving me a delectable view of said ass.

  I tore my eyes away from it and banged my forehead lightly against the steering wheel.

  What had I just gotten myself into?

  7

  Nate

  “So, Nate, how are things going with you?”

  I jerked at the sound of my name, my eyes flying up to meet Jessa’s. Most of their guests had trickled out over the last hour, with Lola and I being the final two remaining. We were sitting in the living room, and I’d been zoning out while the conversation flowed around me.

  I couldn’t get Ivy and the deal we’d struck out of my head.

  “Things are good,” I said, leaning further back into my chair. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” she said, tilting her head to peer at me. “You just seem distracted, and Ivy said something about a proposition…”

  Her words trailed off suggestively, and Rafe straightened to glare at me. “What kind of proposition?”

  My gaze shot back to Jessa and narrowed, but she just shrugged and grinned, the little imp. I was sure that whatever Ivy had told her, it had been vague. If Jessa knew the whole of it, she’d have run straight to Rafe and they’d both be up my ass.

  No, this was a fishing expedition, and I wasn’t biting.

  Or maybe it was the perfect opportunity to put my plans into motion. I just hoped Ivy wouldn’t hate me even more for this when she found out about it.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, shrugging like the whole thing was no big deal. “I asked her out.”

  “You what?” Lola and Rafe shouted the words in perfect synch while Jessa’s mouth fell open in shock.

  “What’s the big deal? She’s attractive, brilliant, and single. Just like me,” I said, adding a cocky grin at the end for good measure.

  “Are you forgetting that she hates you?” Lola asked.

  “Yeah, why does she hate you? I’ve always wondered, but she always get squirelly and brushes off my questions,” Rafe added.

  “I have no idea,” I replied honestly. “But she must not hate me as much as we all thought, because she said yes.”

  “She did?” Jessa asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  “You’re hell on a man’s ego, Jessa Maddox,” I groused. “Why is that so unbelievable?”

  I puffed out my chest and gave her my sexiest grin. Her mouth snapped shut, and she burrowed closer to my brother.

  “Because you’re an asshole to Ivy every time you see her,” Rafe supplied, his arm closing around his girl.

  “Maybe she likes it,” I shot back coolly, but everything inside me rejected the idea.

  Ivy most certainly did not like it when I was an ass, and I made sure to always be one around her. Why was that? Because I’d been insulted by her sudden rejection of me so many years ago? Or did I crave something more than the disinterested antipathy she showed me before I started trying to get a reaction out of her?

  “Anyway, that’s in the past,” I said, shaking off the thoughts. “Ivy and I are putting away the past and moving forward.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Lola said, scrubbing a hand down her face.

  “You’ll get it when you’re older, kid,” I said ruffling her hair.

  “I’m not a kid anymore, jerk-face,” she grumbled, making me laugh.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing, Nate, but you better not hurt her,” Rafe said, his warning tone like a stab to the gut.

  Whose side was he on, anyway? Obviously not mine.

  “And what if she hurts me?” I shot back, trying to sound flippant.

  But the joke fell flat. Everyone in the room was certain that if anyone was doing the hurting, it was going to be me. And to their credit, it was usually an accurate assessment.

  But this time, with this girl, I wasn’t so sure.

  Me: Hey, do you have time to talk?

  I watched my phone screen for the telltale dots that would show Ivy was responding, but nothing happened. Pushing my disappointment away, I dropped my phone to the bed beside me and flipped through the TV channels.

  It was ten in the morning, so I was reasonably sure she wasn’t sleeping. The shop was closed on Sundays, so I was free, and I’d hoped she would be available to work out the details of our agreement. Now that she was on board, I was eager to get started.

  The sooner I got Charity Glasscott off my back, the better.

  My phone chimed, and I bobbled it in my haste to pick it up. Cursing, I forced my movements to slow, and opened my messages.

  Ivy: Sure. Should I come over so we can talk in person?

  My shoulders slumped with relief. I hadn’t realized it, but I’d half-expected her to change her mind after a good night’s sleep. I’d been preparing myself for her to explain that she’d come to her senses and realized what a terrible idea this whole thing was.

  But that wasn’t happening. We were really going to do this.

  Me: Absolutely.

  Ivy: See you in thirty.

  Her response came through with no delay, and I smiled as I leapt to my feet. I only had thirty minutes to make myself and this apartment presentable. Not because I wanted to impress her. No. I just…wanted to make sure she didn’t take one look at my place and decide I wasn’t worth the trouble.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I muttered, shaking my head as I carried dirty glasses to the sink before picking up three days’ worth of dirty socks from the floor.

  After making sure the rest of the living room and kitchen were tidy, I rushed into my bathroom to freshen up. I quickly rejected the idea of another shower. I’d already taken one before I plopped my ass on the bed to watch television. I did, however, add another layer of deodorant and a spritz of cologne after re-brushing my teeth.

  A small voice in my head questioned why I was going through the trouble, but I ignored it. I gazed at my reflecti
on, briefly considering changing out of my t-shirt and sweatpants before rejecting the idea. Women liked men in sweats, right?

  “Ugh,” I groaned, flicking off the light as I walked out.

  I was acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Ivy knew me. She knew what an asshole I was and still had agreed to help me by being my fake fiancée. Fake, as in not real. Pretend.

  I didn’t need to impress her or try to look good for her. Hell, I didn’t even like her. She was a means to an end, and that was it.

  I needed to get my head on straight and not confuse gratitude for something else. Something deeper. I could be congenial for the sake of our working relationship, but I needed to make sure it ended with that.

  A few minutes later, a knock sounded at my door. When I swung the panel open, Ivy gave me a tight smile.

  “Hi,” she said, looking more like a prisoner headed for execution than an excited fake-bride-to-be.

  “Hi. Come on in,” I replied, moving aside to let her enter.

  “Thanks. Nice place,” she said, her eyes scanning the living room. “It’s homey.”

  “Thanks,” I said, trying to see my apartment through her eyes as she wandered around the living room.

  The oversized leather couch in dark brown contrasted nicely with the cream carpet. The wooden coffee table matched the end tables, and a large screen television hung on the opposite wall. Pictures of my family dotted the walls in identical frames, including one of Rafe and Ivy. They were dressed in matching scrubs, each with an arm wrapped around the other and big, cheesy grins on their faces.

  Ivy stopped in front of it, her eyes widening before she turned that blue gaze on me. “Where did you get this?”

  I shrugged. “Rafe.”

  My nonchalant reaction and the answer were grossly understated. I’d forgotten I’d hung that picture, or I would’ve taken it down before she got here. I’d also technically gotten it from Rafe—as in, I’d downloaded it from his social media and had it printed and framed without telling him.

  That was in the early days, when Ivy and I still had a few sparks firing off between us. I didn’t really know why I’d left it up all these years. I’d told myself it was a good picture of my brother and his best friend, and it wasn’t weird. If Ivy were a guy, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought.