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

by Piper James

  Ivy was smiling again, and I focused my full attention on her mouth. I wondered if her lips would taste like buffalo sauce and beer. I wanted to bury my nose in her neck, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent I’d caught a whiff of in the car.

  I shook my head and took another bite of pizza. Nope. I needed to keep my head straight. This was a business arrangement. Nothing more.

  “Did you figure out a way to sneak your mom’s car out without her noticing?” I asked.

  “I think so,” Ivy said, picking up her purse and digging through it. She pulled out a keyring, handing it to me. “These are the keys to the barn and the car. I swiped them last time I was there.”

  She smiled, obviously pleased with herself. I ignored the feel of her fingertips on my palm as she handed me the keys, and I tucked them into my pocket.

  “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll plan a shopping trip to get her out of the house. Can you send your tow truck to pick it up?”

  I nodded. “I can drive it out there, myself.”

  “Good,” she said, grinning. “Mom never goes out there, so I don’t think she’ll notice the key—or the car—is gone.”

  The alcohol seemed to be loosening her up, so I cocked my head and asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot,” she said, taking a long drink of her beer.

  I took a fortifying drink of my own before asking, “What did I do that made you hate me so much?”

  Her face paled. “I don’t want to talk about that, Nate.”

  “Come on, Ivy. I want to know. It seemed like we...” I bit back the words I wanted to say—that it seemed like we were equally attracted to each other in the beginning. “I just want to know what I did.”

  “You didn’t do anything,” she gritted out. “Are you done? I’m ready to go.”

  “Ivy.”

  “No, Nate. I just want to focus on the here and now. The past doesn’t matter.”

  I wanted to argue that whatever had happened in the past was affecting the here and now, but I kept my mouth shut. Ivy looked like she was teetering on the edge of panic, her fight or flight instinct leaning definitively towards flight.

  “Sorry. I’ll drop it,” I said quietly.

  “Thank you,” she said before repeating, “Are you done?”

  “Yeah,” I said, catching Heather’s eye and motioning for the check and a box for the leftovers.

  Ivy drained the rest of her beer while I paid and packed up what was left of the pizza. When we stood to leave the restaurant, she slipped her hand into mine, and our fingers laced together. I knew it was part of the act, but my heart sped up at her unsolicited touch.

  It was a silent drive to her apartment. Ivy was distant, staring out her window the entire time, and I didn’t try to force conversation on her. When we pulled up outside her apartment, though, I couldn’t let her leave without saying something.

  “Ivy, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, sighing. “I probably overreacted. Thanks for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome.” As she opened the door, I leaned over and added, “I’ll text you to plan our next date.”

  “Sounds good. Good night, Nate.”

  “Good night.”

  She climbed from the car without glancing at me and closed the door behind her. I watched her stride away, wondering if I should have offered to walk her to her door. Wasn’t that what gentlemen were supposed to do?

  Before I could finish the thought, she’d disappeared inside her apartment. With a sigh, I shifted my car into gear and pulled away from the curb. I turned on the radio, bobbing my head to the beat as my mind replayed the whole night.

  Ivy was as beautiful as ever, but without the full force of her revulsion eliciting my own hateful responses, I noticed a few other things about her. Things I didn’t hate.

  The way her smile lit up her eyes. The feel of her hand in mine. The sweet-smelling softness of her blonde locks running through my fingers. The way she relished the food, sucking the sauce from her fingers with gusto before chugging her beer.

  The way she staked her claim with the waitress, Heather, showing off the ring I put on her finger.

  That was the part that had me on edge as I pulled into my own apartment complex. When Ivy had told Heather without words that I was off the market…that I was hers…I’d felt a certain satisfaction. Because that ring that made me hers also made her mine.

  And I liked that feeling way too much.

  Things were going so well, despite her initial weirdness when she found out we were going to Hero’s, I’d felt secure enough to bring up the crux of our whole relationship—the catalyst that made Ivy go from flirty interested to coldly disgusted practically overnight.

  I’d often wondered what happened to change her attitude toward me. I’d even suspected that my brother had warned her off. But while that might have made her more reserved, it wouldn’t have caused her to turn into the hate-spewing she-cat she always showed me.

  It was like someone had flipped a switch inside her, and I wanted to know why.

  I heaved a sigh as I climbed from the car. I had to stop worrying about it. This whole thing was a sham. A very temporary sham. It shouldn’t have mattered why Ivy didn’t like me.

  The fact that she didn’t was the whole reason I’d picked her in the first place.

  Inside my apartment, I changed into a pair of sweats and stretched out on my bed. I tuned into the sports news channel, but my mind kept drifting back to Ivy. I tried to focus, to push her out, but thoughts of her kept sneaking back in.

  I couldn’t get the images of her licking her fingers out of my head.

  I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and bit it as I imagined those lips on my skin. Her tongue darting out to taste me. Her hands skimming over my chest, dipping lower…

  With a groan, I shoved my hand down the front of my pants to grip my hardened cock. I began to stroke it, imagining Ivy standing before me. She had a fire in her eyes as her chest heaved with excitement. Her fingers took over for my own, pumping with enthusiasm before she dropped to her knees and—

  I came with a growl, half-satisfied and half-pissed I finished before the fantasy came to an end.

  I got up and stripped, tossing the pants into the laundry basket before heading into the bathroom to turn on the shower. As I waited for the water to heat up, I braced my hands on the counter and stared at myself in the mirror.

  I’d just jacked off to thoughts of Ivy Anderson. Whom I was supposed to despise. My fake fiancée, who, in reality, hated my guts.

  I was so fucked.

  14

  Ivy

  I was a total basket case. Last night’s dinner with Nate had been a series of highs and lows, but the crowning moment had been when he asked me what made me hate him in the first place. I’d frozen, then flat out refused to answer him.

  Why? Was it because I didn’t want to dwell on the past? Because I was still angry? Because we were in a quid pro quo arrangement that didn’t require us to actually bond?

  No.

  It was because I was embarrassed. I’d obviously spent the first few weeks after I met Nate misreading his cues. I’d been attracted to him, and I’d thought he felt the same about me. To find him the way I did, getting it on in a public bathroom with another woman…it had devastated me.

  And every ounce of anger I gave him over the next few weeks had been a result of that devastation. Then it sort of became par for the course. The rational part of my brain knew it was overkill, treating him the way I did after so many years had passed, but it had become a habit.

  A habit that served to protect me from falling prey to his charm, his humor, and overall sexiness ever again. If I told him the truth, admitted that I’d been hurt by the realization that my feelings had been unrequited, I’d have been humiliated all over again.

  He would have let me down gently, telling me he was sorry I’d been misled by his general flirtat
ious personality. He’d have told me we could be friends even after this whole pretend engagement was over. That one day we would laugh about the whole thing.

  “No, thank you,” I murmured quietly as I tapped the screen of my work tablet.

  “Oh, hey, Ivy.”

  I whirled around, clasping the tablet against my chest as my heart stuttered back to life. “Jesus, Rafe. You scared me.”

  “Sorry,” he laughed, holding up his palms. “I just came in to—what the hell is that?”

  His gazed zeroed in on my left hand, and I looked down quickly, expecting to see a spider crawling across my knuckles. Instead, I saw a very large, very sparkly diamond.

  “Oh, shit,” I stammered, jerking my hand behind my back.

  “Oh, shit is right,” Rafe said, his expression bewildered. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Rafe, I can explain,” I said, cursing myself for forgetting to take the damn thing off before work.

  “I’m all ears,” he said, closing the exam room door behind him to give us some privacy.

  “This,” I said, holding my hand up in front of me, “isn’t what it looks like.”

  “It looks like a very big, very expensive engagement ring.”

  “Well, it is,” I admitted. “But it’s not real.”

  “So, it’s a knock-off? Why would you be wearing a fake diamond?”

  “No. That’s not what I meant,” I stuttered, shaking my head. Then I looked him right in the eye and said, “I’m pretending to be engaged. To Nate.”

  “What?” he shouted, making me flinch. “Why would you do that? Why would he…”

  His words trailed off as several emotions flashed across his expression. Then he inhaled sharply and stabbed me with his brown eyes.

  “The girl that’s threatening him.” I nodded, and he cursed quietly. “This is how he plans to fix it? Pulling you into his drama?”

  “If Charity thinks he’s in a committed relationship, she’ll back off,” I said, feeling oddly defensive on Nate’s behalf.

  “That’s not your problem, Ivy,” he shouted. He took a deep breath, shot me an apologetic look, and lowered his voice. “Why would you agree to this? You can’t stand him.”

  “Well, I love you, and he’s your brother,” I said. He opened his mouth to protest, and I held up a hand to halt his words. “And he’s going to finish restoring my mom’s car.”

  Rafe knew all about the Bel Air and how much it meant to my mom. He knew I’d wanted to finish it for her, but classic car restoration could be pricey. I loved being a nurse, but I wasn’t rolling in extra money.

  “But—”

  “No buts, Rafe. I’m doing something for Nate, and he’s doing something for me. He asked me because he knew I could approach the whole thing as a business arrangement and not develop feelings for him. I said yes because he’s my best friend’s brother, he needed help, and he offered to give me the one thing I want more than anything else.”

  I ignored the little voice in my head that goaded me into admitting there might be one thing I wanted more than seeing the look of joy on my mom’s face when she saw the car in all its glory—Nate. It wasn’t true. I didn’t want him. Not anymore.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Rafe asked, pulling me from my internal debate.

  “I am. Dealing with your brother is a pain,” I said, giving him a small smile, “but in the end, it will be worthwhile. It’s only a few weeks of my time. It’ll be worth it when I give Mom that car.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I asked, arching a brow. “Is that all you have to say?”

  “Oh, I have plenty more to say, but I won’t. You’re a grown woman and fully capable of making your own choices. I’ll support those choices, just like you’ve always supported me.”

  “Thanks, Rafe.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll play along if anyone asks, but I won’t lie to Jessa.”

  “Of course, not,” I said. “I’d never ask you to lie to her.”

  He gave me a firm nod, then reached behind him to open the door. Then he held out a hand.

  “Oh, my God, Ivy,” he said loudly. “Congratulations! Let me see the ring!” I narrowed my eyes as I placed my left hand in his. He smirked at me as he bent over to examine it. “It’s beautiful, just like you.”

  I looked past him to see a couple of coworkers crowded in the doorway, expectant looks on their faces as they waited their turns to congratulate me and see the ring.

  “Thanks, Rafe,” I gritted out between clenched teeth.

  “Anytime, bestie,” he said, giving me a cocky wink before backing away and turning toward the women behind him. “She’s all yours, ladies.”

  I spent the next twenty minutes gushing over my “relationship” with Nate, telling everyone who crowded into the empty exam room about how we’d dated quietly for a few months, fell in love fast and furiously, and ended up engaged. I smiled and giggled with them, all the while cursing Rafe for putting me in this situation.

  Sure, Nate and I needed people to spread the word, but I’d kind of hoped it would be people in Nate’s circle, not mine. I finally sent them all back to work and gave myself a moment alone to catch my breath.

  This was harder than I thought it was going to be. Pretending to be in love with Nate when I had actual unresolved feelings for him was hell.

  It would have been so much easier if I truly hated him.

  After my shift, I grabbed my phone from my locker to find I had several texts—all from Nate.

  Nate: Hey there, my wife-to-be.

  Nate: Nope.

  Nate: Hey there, fiancée.

  Nate: No, that’s not right either.

  Nate: Hey there, love monkey.

  Nate: Yes! That’s the one. What’s up, love monkey?

  Nate: Sorry, coming up with the perfect pet name is hard.

  Nate: You can call me corn muffin if you want to.

  I found myself laughing despite trying really hard not to. Obviously, Nate hadn’t let my frosty attitude deter him from his goal. He was still pushing forward with our fake engagement.

  Me: Hey, corn muffin, if you call me love monkey in public, I’m going to punch you in your love monkey.

  I tapped send without thinking, then panic formed a cold ball in my chest as I reread my words. They sounded flirtatious, and the thought that Nate might interpret them that way had my face flashing hot.

  Nate: Ha-ha. Got it. Love monkeys are for private time only.

  My face flamed even hotter, my embarrassment mixing with something else I wasn’t ready to define. Something that had me clenching my thighs together as I pulled my jacket, purse, and keys from the locker and slammed it shut.

  I hurried out to my car, sliding in behind the wheel and slamming the door shut before looking at my phone again.

  Nate: Seriously, though. I’m available tonight, if you are.

  My eyes widened as I tried to decipher the meaning behind his words. Available for what? To give me his love monkey?

  Stop it, Ivy. That’s obviously not what he means.

  Nate: To go pick up the Bel Air, if you can get your mom out of the house.

  Son of a bitch. The little, laughing-face emoji he added to the end of the last text told me he knew exactly what he was doing. Exactly what he’d made me think.

  Me: That’s great! Thank you. I’ll call her to see if she wants to go out to dinner, then get back to you.

  “Pretend like you weren’t affected, Ivy. He only wants a reaction,” I murmured before dialing my mom’s number.

  “Hey, baby,” she said when she answered.

  “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

  “I’m good. How is everything with you?”

  “Great, actually. I have the night off, and I want to take you to dinner.”

  “What’s the occasion?” she asked, her voice skeptical.

  “No occasion. I just want to hang out with my mom,” I said, cringing at the defensiveness in my tone.

/>   I needed to play this cool, or she was going to know something was up. I’d never been able to lie to her growing up. At least, not convincingly. She always knew when I was hiding something.

  “Well, there is a new hamburger joint I wanted to check out,” she said.

  “Perfect,” I replied. “I’ll be there at six.”

  “Okay. See you then, honey.”

  “Bye, Mom.”

  After ending the call, I texted Nate.

  Me: It’s all set. I’m picking her up at six for dinner. We should be gone by six-fifteen.

  Nate: Perfect. Just shoot me the address, and I’ll take care of the rest.

  Me: Thanks, Nate. I really appreciate this.

  Nate: Anything for you, love monkey.

  My lips curled up, and I was glad he couldn’t see me. Cracks were forming in the walls I’d erected to keep him out of my heart. No matter how hard I tried to rebuild them, they crumbled a little more with every act of kindness. Every affectionate glance or flirtatious remark.

  I actually kind of liked Nate.

  And that was a big problem. A huge one.

  15

  Nate

  I had my work cut out for me.

  The Bel Air’s engine was mostly intact. It needed some rewiring, a fuel injector, and a transmission, but I could tell Ivy’s dad had put a lot of work into it before he passed. That would be the easy part.

  The frame seemed to be solid, but the rear axle was bent and would need to be replaced. I’d also need to find new fenders, a front bumper, a radiator, and a new windshield.

  Add in a paint job and new leather to reupholster the worn and cracked seats, this project wasn’t going to be easy—or cheap.

  And if I was going to finish it by Christmas, I needed to get started immediately. I just hoped I could find all the parts here, in the United States. If I needed to have something shipped in from overseas, it was going to cost me time and money I didn’t have to spare.

  But I couldn’t deny the excitement in my veins as I pictured what this car could be. What it would be. Because I would pull it off.