Bad Duke_An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Emily Bishop

  “Relax,” he replied and put down the bag of grounds. He stepped over Mistress’s tail and drew close, bringing the fire yet again. “I’m saying I enjoyed it. I enjoyed being with you last night.”

  I nodded stiffly. “I did, too. But you don’t have to do this. The coffee and so on.”

  “I want to do it. And I want to make you breakfast, too. Do you have eggs? Bacon?” He glanced around. “Shit, are you a vegan?”

  “Why, because I wear skirts and read palms?”

  “You read palms?”

  I swallowed. “Can it with the stereotypes, and I’ll let you make me breakfast. There’s bacon in the fridge.”

  “Let me?” Jarryd grinned again. “No one lets me do anything.”

  “What a sad life you must lead.”

  His expression clouded, and I instantly regretted saying it. I’d meant it in jest, but the reading from last night screamed back—the Tower, upheaval, and his current state of being, the Seven of Cups. The cards said he wasn’t happy, and that change was on the way. Sudden change.

  I always believed the cards, so why didn’t I want to believe them now?

  “Bacon in the fridge,” he said. “Eggs too?”

  “Yeah. And bread on top of it. I don’t like icy slices.”

  “Who does?” Jarryd marched to the fridge and busied himself with the ingredients for breakfast.

  My cat finally deigned to greet me. Apparently, the actor was a pussy magnet. OK, cheesiest mental joke ever. I picked up Mistress and buried my nose in her fur, watching the actor between her ears.

  This was the last thing I’d expected. Surely, he had better things to do than staying here with me?

  “You mentioned you were here scouting locations?” I asked.

  “That’s right,” he replied, ass out and head in the fridge. I admired the posterior dimensions then shook my head and put down Mistress.

  “What’s the movie about?”

  Jarryd straightened with a carton of eggs in one hand and bacon in the other. “It’s called Pride’s Death. It’s a romantic thriller. My first shot at writing, directing, and producing one in this specific sub-genre. It’s complicated. It’s supposed to be about a small-town girl who gets caught up in a love triangle with a serial killer and a hometown boy.”

  “Supposed to be?”

  Jarryd put down the ingredients and shrugged. “Yeah. Supposed to be. As I said, things are complicated. I won’t bore you with the details.”

  I hesitated. Wouldn’t bore me, or thought I couldn’t be trusted? Ironic, since I was the one who had a lot to lose here. “What made you choose Moondance?”

  “I haven’t chosen it yet,” he said, firmly. OK, definitely hit a nerve there. “I came to check it out because a friend suggested it. I’m not sure it’s the right place. I’m not even sure about the script anymore.” The last sentence had been said to himself.

  “Oh, that’s—OK. I guess I don’t know much about that type of thing.” Understatement of the century. I wasn’t a movie fan. I’d never gotten the chance to develop a taste for any genre. Books were my primary mode of entertainment. And sometimes, when I was in a naughty mood, I played Candy Crush on the sly.

  “You don’t? I guess you wouldn’t,” he said and opened the cupboard over the sink. “Where are the pans—ah, never mind. Found it. So, why are you in Moondance?”

  “It’s the only place I’ve called home for more than six months,” I replied, easily. I didn’t have to tell him all the details. “I lived here when I was younger. After that, I pretty much traveled around the state. I came back because I was tired of the lifestyle.”

  “Tired of it,” Jarryd said and placed the pan on my portable stove. “I can’t imagine getting tired of this. Able to move whenever you want, do what you want, no one telling you where to go, what meetings you have, whether you should wear that shirt to that event.”

  “It must be super difficult for you,” I said, in a monotone.

  He paused and gave me the side-eye. “You’re right. I’m being ungrateful. I have a better life than most, and I appreciate that. But sometimes…” He raised both hands and strangled the air. “Sometimes, it gets frustrating.”

  I softened a little. I could imagine that. I’d experienced enough judgment and disdain. I wouldn’t handle that on a grand scale.

  “So, this is what you do?” Jarryd asked and fiddled with the clicker on the gas stove. “Travel around telling people their futures?”

  “Giving readings,” I corrected. “And it was what I did. Now, I’d like to settle here in my—”“

  Jarryd’s cell phone erupted to life on the table behind me, and I squealed.

  “Shit,” he said and brushed past me, pressing his front to mine. “I should never have turned the damn thing on this morning.” He lifted it and grimaced at the caller ID. “I’d better take this.”

  I scooted over to the stove and gestured to the side door of my RV. “Go ahead.”

  Jarryd didn’t hear me. He’d already swiped his thumb across the screen and pressed the phone to his ear. He clunked open the door and stepped out into the mud. The door swung shut behind him but didn’t close all the way.

  “Rod,” he said, voice carrying in from outside. “Yes, I couldn’t talk last night. I was in the middle of something important.”

  My stomach did a girly dance. Important, ha!

  A pause outside. I clicked the dial on the stove but didn’t put any real energy into it.

  “You’re kidding.” Jarryd’s tone deepened—anger. “She did? She called you? Rod, I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

  This didn’t sound like a conversation I should eavesdrop on. Then again, eavesdropping in general was a no-no.

  “Oh, well, of course, that’s a sane thing to do. I’m sure the fact that it was Felicity Swan calling you had no impact on your reaction to the situation. You’re an investor, Rod. I’m the one producing this movie. She has no say over where it’s filmed. She shouldn’t even be on this trip.”

  Felicity Swan. Now, that name did ring a bell. Another A-list celebrity and one I knew too well. Felicity had gone to school with me, right here in Moondance. And she obviously had something to do with Pride’s Death and Jarryd Tombs.

  I pressed my hand to my stomach. Nausea slammed home.

  “No, no, no,” Jarryd said, outside, and lowered his voice. “You know as well as I do that that’s over. I’m not going to rationalize my decisions for her benefit. And you’re better than this. Since when are you Felicity’s errand boy? She doesn’t need to know where I was last night.”

  My intestines tied themselves into knots.

  I stepped back from the kitchen counter and walked sideways, one step, two, three. Jarryd’s voice faded. I entered my bedroom and rushed to my dresser. Opened it, drew out my cell—a smartphone I’d picked up secondhand a couple months ago—and switched it on.

  “Please, please, please,” I whispered. I’d already done something totally out of character for me. One-night stands were unheard of. They weren’t in my repertoire. It couldn’t get worse than this.

  The cell switched on and let out a tremendous welcome tone. I panicked and juggled it from one hand to the other then found the option to put it on silent mode. I opened the Internet browser and typed out the names with shaking fingers.

  Fiblitcy Swxn and Jarid Dombs

  Remarkably, Google figured out what my listless thumbs couldn’t translate.

  Showing Results for Felicity Swan and Jarryd Tombs.

  Headlines jumped out at me, dated from months back, right up until today.

  The most recent ones screamed the same news over and over again.

  Jarryd Tombs and Felicity Swan: Hollywood’s Hottest Couple Call It Quits!

  Two Weeks On: Felicity Swan Insists She’s Fine

  Felicity and Jarryd: Separated for Good?

  Where Have the Star Duo Disappeared To? Both Out of the Limelight since the Breakup.

  “No,” I muttered
and sank onto my bed. The scent of us, of my perfume and his cologne, with the musk of his skin, rose from the sheets. “I’m an idiot.”

  It didn’t matter that he’d broken up with her. This was way too complicated. And I wasn’t the type of woman who slept with a guy who’d just left a relationship. It was—what was it? This was new territory for me.

  Whatever it was, last night had clearly meant nothing to him, and I couldn’t hide the fact that it’d meant more to me. The only other man I’d slept with had been a boyfriend, and one I’d fallen for.

  Oh, god, and it was Felicity Swan. My memories of her weren’t vague. She’d grown up in Moondance but starred in movies from a young age. She’d left a couple months after I arrived, at the age of sixteen, beckoned by Hollywood. She was a treasure in this town. Moondance’s favorite woman and, now, a star. A star whose ex I’d slept with in my RV!

  “Disaster,” I said. “This is a disaster.”

  It’d be hard enough for me to achieve my goals in Moondance without this hanging over my head. If the locals got wind of it, they’d do whatever it took to stop me from buying property here. Not that I could afford it yet.

  Disconnected thoughts raced through my mind. Dots connecting and separating. Panic. Palms sweating.

  I switched off the smartphone, got up, and stowed it in its usual hiding spot. I only ever used the damn thing for emergencies or binge Candy Crush in moments of weakness. You have to get rid of him. Get rid of this before it’s too late.

  Five years since I’d last lived in Moondance. I’d hoped five years would’ve been enough to dull memories of me and Mom for the residents. Not for me, no, never for me. And now this.

  Don’t panic. Stop panicking. You’re fine. Just get rid of him. The situation isn’t as dire as you think it is. I would’ve given anything to have had my mother saying the words to me instead.

  The side door of the RV creaked, and I squeezed my eyes shut. He was back inside.

  “Aurora?” he called out. “Where is she, Mistress?”

  The kitty meowed in the next room.

  “Coming,” I said and cleared my throat. “Just a sec.” I smoothed my palms over my loose cotton shirt then moved out into the dining area. My bare feet scraped across the carpet.

  “There you are,” he said, still topless and breathtaking. Why was this painful? I didn’t know him. It’d meant nothing. Nothing! “Time to get cooking. How do you like your eggs?”

  “I think you should leave,” I said.

  Both Mistress and Jarryd looked at me as if I’d lost my shit.

  “What?”

  “I said, I think you should leave. I’m grateful for your effort here but we don’t need to make this into something it’s not.” I was stiff as a board. “We had a good time, and that’s over now. I’m sure you have things to get to, and I do, too.”

  “Aurora—”

  “Leave, please,” I said, and a note of plea entered my voice. I hated myself for that but I wasn’t the commanding type.

  Jarryd was stunned. He put down the pack of bacon and stepped back from the counter, nodding once. “Yeah, all right. My shirt.”

  I swept it off the table and held it out to him. He took it from me. Our skin didn’t connect.

  Jarryd Tombs tugged on the shirt and grabbed his jacket from the sofa. “Thanks for everything.” And then he was out the door and gone.

  I let out a long, low sigh and clung to the table. I should’ve been relieved. One less problem to deal with. Except the only emotion I could identify was disappointment.

  I sat down and buried my face in my palms. This should never have happened.

  Chapter 5

  Jarryd

  Moondance could’ve graced the pages of a lifestyle magazine—log-cabin style buildings, even if it was the barbershop I strolled past, and wrought iron streetlamps. The street wasn’t busy either, just a few cars meandering past, some of them in rough shape, exhausts put-putting along.

  I pictured Aurora in one of them and perked up, but it was a little old lady behind the wheel, squinting out from behind thick glasses that magnified her eyes to owl-sized.

  “I don’t think he heard a word I said,” Luke said.

  I shifted my focus. “What’s up?”

  “Where are you today, bud? You’re not with me.” Luke, my script co-writer and a good friend, tapped the end of his ballpoint on his palm. “This is what we had planned today. There somewhere else you need to be?”

  It was a rhetorical question. Luke was one of the only people who took that tone with me, and I appreciated the hell out of him for it. Too many yea-sayers. Too many folks willing to do whatever I said, even if it was a shit idea.

  “I’ve got a lot to think about.”

  “Like Pride’s Death,” Luke replied.

  “Wait!” A woman called out.

  Footsteps crunched grit on the sidewalk behind us, and I held my breath, tried my hardest to cool a rising tide of irritation. This is all I fucking need today.

  “There you are.” Felicity inserted a purr into the words. She was an oversized blonde cat, and I was the mouse. “You forgot to ask reception to call my room when you left.”

  I avoided looking at her. Every time I did, I saw her with the other man. A flashback to the day I’d found them together in my bed. My feelings for her had drained away, but the fact that she’d risked my reputation and hers still ate at me.

  Reputation was everything in Hollywood. It was the crux of the issue here. If I didn’t play nice, the investors would pull out and I’d lose the movie. Years of work flushed away in seconds.

  “He’s gone again,” Luke muttered.

  “No, I’m here.” I looked up at the cloudless blue sky and the Big Horn Mountains, which shaded the west side of the town. “Beautiful setting. Maybe it’s too beautiful.”

  “See?” Felicity slipped her arm through mine. “This is why you need me here.”

  I shook her off and met her gaze, at last. Nothing happened. No anger, no irritation, just a sad lack of emotion. I’d given her a ring, and we’d come to this. “No,” I said. A simple command.

  “But I’m helping you. You did cast me as the star in this movie. I should have some input here.” Her long blond hair hung lose around her shoulders, and she tottered on stilettos. Perfect shoes for hiking. “Why are we walking, anyway? Let’s take a cab.”

  “Old Bobby doesn’t run after a storm,” I said, and my heart thumped. Aurora. Free and different, maybe a little crazy. And she doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m too much trouble.

  “What’s an Old Bobby?” Felicity asked. “Oh, god, do you mean that lame old dude who runs the taxi service around here? He’s still alive?”

  “Enough of this,” Luke said. I could rely on him to cut the bullshit at any given time. My friend was all business and no pleasure. He pushed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We’ve got to view a few places here before we make a decision.”

  “Fine,” Felicity huffed. “But I don’t see why. This town is perfect. I told you that when I suggested it, Jay.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I said.

  “Stop spitting at each other, and start walking.” Luke led us down the long sidewalk that separated the road from the trees. We’d come from our hotel, the Moondance Motel, another potential setting for a scene in Pride’s Death.

  “So, what’s the list?” Felicity asked.

  Luke lifted his clipboard—he preferred pen and paper to touchscreen—and ran the tip of his pen down the scene list. “We need a bar, a restaurant, a grocery store, library, forest, motel. I’m interested in the potential for a lake.”

  “We didn’t write anything for a lake,” I replied.

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t the forest chase scene be more interesting if the protagonist ended up in the lake? Hiding below the surface of the water while a flashlight strobes overhead, seeking her out?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe.”

  We continued in silence, past a few
entrances to dirt roads, some of them labeled as private property, or outfitted with a wooden mailbox. One had what looked to be a Native American totem next to it.

  “Quaint,” Felicity said. “Isn’t it?”

  “It’s nice. I think it has potential,” Luke replied.

  I didn’t answer. We had more to see, and each passing tree reminded me of the ones outside Aurora’s trailer, and the surreal sense of having my life laid out before me. I’d lose money. Change was coming, and I’d had heartbreak recently. I glanced at Felicity askance.

  Is it heartbreak if the person you loved wasn’t real? The Felicity Swan I knew was a fake, and this woman next to me… the mask peeled back.

  “Here we are,” Luke said. We passed the first of the local stores, a little bakery and a barber next to it, all constructed in a log-cabin style, and moseyed on down the street. A bird swooped past, showing off its bright yellow undercarriage, and disappeared past the roof of another shop.

  “Ugh, so much wildlife,” Felicity said then giggled. “I guess I’ll have to get used to it again. I can’t say I missed that part of this place. Or the lack of nail salons.”

  “When did you leave?” Luke asked.

  “When I was sixteen. I had good memories here, but this town was never big enough to hold me. Once I was discovered, it was too late to look back, you know?” Felicity fanned her face.

  Discovered. Felicity’s mother had been a toxic, overbearing iteration of the younger actress herself. She’d forced her into every local commercial in the state then dragged her across the country to transform her into the blockbuster star she was now. Felicity had spent her formative young adult years in Hollywood.

  Had she always been this selfish?

  “This is the General Store,” Luke said, and placed a mark next to one of the scenes on the list. “Let’s check it out.”

  We filed into the shop, the bell tinkling above the door, and Felicity laid a hand on my arm. “Hold on a sec,” she whispered. “Before we go any further, we need to talk.”