Vibes & Feels: Falling for your enemy never felt so good. (Unlikely Pairings Book 2)

by Sarah Skye

  I promise her I will.

  “And this whole… arrangement… stays between you and me. You don’t speak a word about this to anyone, especially not Lily. I don’t want her finding out what we’re doing. She’ll kill me for even talking to you.”

  I almost laugh. “Do you seriously think I’m going to talk to Lily? We haven’t spoken since the rehearsal dinner. And I’m not really in the mood to get my nose broken by her boyfriend again.”

  “Fiancé,” Morgan says. “She and Calder are engaged.”

  “Oh. Congrats to them.”

  I shouldn’t be surprised. I’d never seen Lily happier than when she was with him.

  “I’ll be sure to relay your sentiment to them both,” Morgan mutters as she looks over to her grandma’s room once more.

  Her stare turns pointed when she looks at me. “And one more thing. If anything happens to my grandma while in your care, I will burn your house down with you in it.”

  I almost smile. A fighter indeed.

  “I sold my house. I live in a condo now.”

  “Fine. I’ll burn your condo down with you in it.”

  “Noted.”

  “Okay, so here’s where we keep all of Gram’s medication.” Morgan points to the small linoleum dining table that sits along the wall in the tiny kitchen of Nina’s house.

  I nod along and glance at the cluster of orange pill bottles on the tabletop. She explains that the instructions for doses are printed on each bottle. She looks in the direction of Nina’s room, where we laid her down for a nap once we got home from the hospital.

  Then she walks over to the refrigerator, opens it, and curses. “She barely has any food.”

  “I’ll order some groceries to be delivered right now.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and search for the nearest grocery store that offers online shopping and same-day delivery. “What does she like to eat?”

  I look up when she doesn’t answer right away. She’s staring at me, a dazed look in her eyes.

  “Um, soups. Pasta. Fresh veggies. Roast chicken. Oatmeal. Berries. Dairy upsets her stomach though. Nothing with too much sugar.”

  “I remember what the doctor said.”

  I look up when she doesn’t say anything right away.

  “Does she like sweet potatoes?” I ask.

  “Yeah. She loves them.”

  “Is she allergic to anything?”

  “Um, no,” she says softly.

  I walk over to show Morgan all the food I’ve added to the cart. Her shoulders stiffen slightly. I notice she does that anytime I’m close to her. It’s fair, but man, does it suck to know that my physical presence bothers her that much.

  I shove aside the feeling. “That look okay for the next couple of days?”

  “Oh, I meant homemade soup. She doesn’t like canned soups. Sorry, I should have mentioned that.” Her cheeks flush pink.

  “That’s okay. I can cook her soup.”

  I go back and add cartons of broth along with a few cans of beans, a bag of carrots, and some herbs.

  When I glance up, Morgan’s gazing at me again. I start to check out on my phone. “You keep staring at me.”

  “I just… you know how to cook soup?”

  I look up at her. “I’m not an infant, Morgan. I know how to cook.”

  “I didn’t realize you were a home-cooked soup kind of guy.”

  The surprise in her voice makes me smile. “Really? What kind of food do you think suits a guy like me?”

  “I kind of figured you alternated between ordering takeout for sushi and ribeyes, or something like that.”

  “I hate red meat.”

  “Really?”

  I smile at the hitch in her voice. “Yeah. Really.”

  “Me, too.” She looks away after a second. I tell her that groceries will be delivered in an hour and promise to cook something hearty and healthy for dinner.

  “And I’ll make sure she eats enough,” I say.

  When she flashes a small smile and says “thanks,” it does something weird to my stomach. I swallow, look away, and ignore it.

  “Oh wait. I should probably pay you for the groceries. And for staying with her. Shit, I didn’t even think about that.”

  She walks over to where I’m standing and grabs her purse from the kitchen counter. When she starts digging through it, I place a hand on hers. She stills instantly, her shoulders hunched, and glances up at me. Shit. I shouldn’t have touched her. What the hell was I thinking?

  I pull my hand away. “Sorry, I just… You don’t need to pay me.”

  “Marco, this is weird enough as it is. We’re not going to freeload off of you—”

  “You’re not freeloading. I’m offering.”

  “Don’t you have bills to pay?”

  “I have plenty of money saved.” I bite my tongue, annoyed at how I just made myself sound like some pompous rich prick.

  “Of course you do.”

  I flinch at the dismissiveness in her tone. Yup. She definitely thinks I’m a prick.

  I didn’t mean to come off that way. I’m lucky enough that my past job and the inheritance from my grandma has made it so I’ve never had to worry about money, so there’s no reason for Morgan to pay me. But I guess there’s no non-prick way of saying that.

  She protests again, but I shake my head and say, “Morgan. Just let me do this.”

  “Okay.” It’s practically a whisper when she says it, but then she startles. “Oh! Coffee!”

  She points to the clunky coffee maker sitting on the end of the counter. It looks like it was built at the turn of the century—the twentieth century. She starts explaining how Nina drinks a massive cup of coffee every morning with one spoonful of the sugar substitute that’s in the cabinet. The grounds are kept here and the measuring cup and filters here…

  I’m having a hell of a time focusing, though. I got a whiff of whatever perfume she wears, and holy hell, it is intoxicating. Woodsy and floral and nothing like I’ve ever smelled before.

  Morgan must notice the look on my face because she stops talking. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I, uh, don’t know how to use a regular coffee machine.” Nice save, dipshit. It’s true though.

  “Are you serious? How the hell do you not know how to make coffee?” She doesn’t sound angry. More like mystified.

  “I have an espresso machine at my place. I just use that most mornings. Or I go to a coffee shop.”

  Her mouth twitches before she smiles. “Of course you don’t know how to use a regular coffee maker.”

  This time, there’s no bite to her tone, no underlying current of sarcasm or worry. She sounds light. Happy, even. She even chuckles at the end.

  “‘Of course I don’t know how?’ What does that mean?” I can’t help the upward curve in my mouth. I like it when she sounds this light, this happy.

  “It means I’m not surprised. You drive a Mercedes. You wear designer sunglasses and sneakers. You have freaking seat warmers in your car. You don’t have to work. Of course you don’t use a regular coffee maker.”

  Heat crawls its way up from my neck to my face. “Ah yeah, I guess I’m kind of a stereotype.”

  Rich boy. Materialistic. Douchebag.

  “You’re a bit more than that.”

  Her softly-spoken words hit me square in the chest. The feeling lingers even as I watch her show me how to use the coffee maker. When she finishes, she looks at me for a long second before turning toward the hallway.

  “I’m gonna kiss Gram goodbye then head back to the city.”

  “Cool.”

  I step out to grab my gym bag from the trunk of my car. It’s packed with a few pairs of clean clothes, and suddenly I’m thankful that I never got around to cleaning it out like I intended to months ago. This stash of spare clothing used to be for quick changes between gym sessions and client meetings. Now, I drop it on the floor of the living room and sit down on the couch, sinking immediately into the plush cushion.

&nbs
p; Morgan walks out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She walks into the living room and looks over at me. “Thanks again.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll call to check up on her tomorrow, and the day after too. But if you need anything while I’m gone—”

  “I’ll call you.”

  “Are you sure you’re comfortable with giving her insulin?”

  “Yes. The nurse at the hospital showed me how to do it when we were waiting for her to get discharged, remember? She said I caught on quicker than most.”

  She makes a face. “That’s because she was flirting with you. She clearly thought you were hot.”

  “Can you blame her?”

  She rolls her eyes, but this time she’s smiling. It feels like I’ve scored a point during a game I’m not even sure how to play.

  “I think I’m good to go,” I say. “I have that packet they gave me at the hospital with the instructions. I’ll read it over again if it makes you more comfortable.”

  She only looks the slightest bit reassured. “Read it till you memorize it. I’ll be back for Gram’s follow-up visit. I’m gonna quiz you.”

  I hold back a smile. “I’ll be ready.”

  She lingers for a second, telling me there’s an unopened toothbrush and other toiletries under the sink in the bathroom.

  “I have a dopp kit in my gym bag. I’ll be good.”

  She lets a flustered smile break free. “Of course you have a dopp kit in a gym bag in your car.”

  This time, I let myself smile too. “Of course I do.”

  She glances back in the direction of her grandma’s bedroom. Even from all the way across the room, I can see the worry in her eyes.

  “Morgan.”

  She turns to look at me.

  “She’ll be okay. I promise.”

  She nods and makes her way to the front door. She reaches for the doorknob but pauses and turns back around.

  “I really will burn you to the ground if anything happens to her.”

  I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “Of course you will.”

  And with that, she leaves.

  6

  MORGAN

  My knees pin his hips, hands splayed wide on his gleaming chest. One of the straps of my crimson bra dangles off my shoulder, but the push-up level on this baby is so high that nothing is moving. The silk bed sheet and my hair swirl around us in the breeze generated by powerful fans positioned to create just such a dramatic swirl.

  His blue-green eyes crinkle at the edges. “Relax that jaw, lass. You look a wee bit uptight for the setting.”

  I puff out a breath and chuckle. “Thanks, Calder. Just this used to be a lot easier before…”

  He clucks, but that smile remains. “Come now. Where’s that professional model I’ve always known? This is only as weird as we let it be.”

  “Morgan, arch your back a little more, please,” the photographer calls over the whirring fans. “Calder, grip her hips, okay? Right at the top of her thigh.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, a light flush sweeping his cheeks.

  We both laugh as he plants his broad hands on my body. This is definitely the weirdest part about working with my best friend’s fiancé, but Calder is right. It’s all part of the job, and lord knows I need this gig. Romance novel covers aren’t my niche like they are Calder’s—I much prefer yoga gear or athleisure clothing lines—but right now all I care about is rebuilding my portfolio with current contracts.

  So if that means straddling my bestie’s fiancé in a bed and trying not to giggle while he makes faces at me, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

  We wrap that shoot and go straight into a different assignment. This one requires me to wear a leopard-print sarong and let Calder, who gets to wear a pilot’s jumpsuit, carry me in his arms. Sure, his oiled pecs are on full display, but at least he’s not got a draft right up his crotch like I do.

  We smolder at each other until the photographer calls it a wrap.

  He plunks me down on my feet and rubs his biceps. “Christ, I didn’t know how much longer I could hold you like that.”

  I slap his arm. “Look, just because I don’t weigh zero pounds, don’t start making jokes.”

  He laughs. “Taking the piss is all. You’re brilliant as ever.”

  “Aww. Calder, baby, I know that.” With a smirk, I scurry away to find my street clothes.

  Calder and I have been buddies for years, but since he and Lily got together, we’ve become great friends. We met on some shoot or another. I always loved the way he made work so much fun. I admire his eye for beauty and art, too.

  Modeling became my passion in high school, but because I’m not tall and lithe, I wasn’t sure I could make a career of it. Thankfully, with the explosion of social media, so many new companies are redefining standards of beauty. So my 5’5” athletic build actually has a place in front of cameras these days. I’ll never be a runway model, but I don’t care. I’m proud of my work repping startup brands with a solid mission and ethical business practices.

  The romance novel covers are fun, too, if I’m honest. Skimpy wardrobes aside, it’s awesome to be the face of a badass heroine who’s navigating life and falling in love all at once. Must be a hell of a challenge.

  I wouldn’t know. Maybe that’s all the more reason it’s so fun.

  All thoughts of the shoot scatter as I step into my jeans and check my phone to see an unread text from “Mercedes”, aka Marco. My heart stops for a beat anytime his nickname pops up, but when I open the message I’m greeted with the usual: a photo of smiling Gram and a caption that says, “All is well.”

  I puff out a breath and tapback a heart, then stash the phone and hurry to meet Calder. He gives me a ride to the restaurant where we’re meeting up with Lily, since my Mini Cooper is still in the shop. When we pull up, Lily is waiting outside. Her eyes light at the sight of Calder, and when he swoops in for a hug and kiss hello, I decide that those two should grace every romance novel cover from here to eternity. Even my salty, date-weary self swoons a little at their cuteness.

  “How was it?” she asks when she snags eyes with me over his shoulder.

  “Great. This guy right here kept me laughing so it didn’t get weird.”

  Lily just laughs at me. As an art professor, she understands the rules of the trade.

  She catches Calder’s hand and leads us inside. My phone buzzes again as I’m following them to a booth.

  Mercedes: I need help with something.

  My fingers fly.

  Me: What’s wrong?

  The phone lights up with a call, and my heart really does stop. I tap accept before it even vibrates and dig my free hand into my hair. “Yeah?” I clip out.

  “Hey, sorry, I—”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He pauses. Then clears his throat.

  “Goddammit, what?” I hiss, turning my back on Calder and Lily.

  “There are a thousand lotion options here. She sent me out for lotion and toothpaste. She said Sensodyne, so that was easy. But, fuck me, there are a billion brands of lotion, and this pharmacy isn’t even that big. Help.”

  Panic drains out of me, replaced with a tickle in my throat that is definitely a laugh. My lips twitch, so I bite down hard even though obviously he can’t see. “That’s why you called?”

  “I didn’t want to mess up! I started Googling the best lotions for diabetics but even then there’s a thousand kinds!”

  That laugh tickles harder, but my heart flutters too. He’s really trying to help. Wonders never cease. “Um, she likes Lubriderm.”

  “Lube?!?”

  I can’t help it. A giggle escapes me before I can stop it. “No, doofus. It’s a brand name. Just look around. It’s a white bottle with gold lettering.”

  “You’re laughing at me, but I’m not the one suggesting Gram needs lube.”

  I laugh again and don’t even try to check it. “Shut up and hurry back home.”

&n
bsp; “On it. I see the bottle.” His voice says he’s grinning, too, but the line goes dead without anything more.

  Lily and Calder are trying not to stare at me when I slide into the booth and mutter an apology. Before they can inquire, I toss my hair and grin at Lily. “I think I narrowed down my bridesmaid dress options, want to see?”

  Her eyes ignite. “Hell yeah!”

  I call up the two photos: one is a sexy black jumpsuit and the other is an A-line evening gown in silver velvet. Lily had said to wear whatever spoke to me, and both of these definitely do. This wedding will be “highland chic,” with a cool balance of Calder’s Scottish roots and both of their flair for beauty.

  “Oooh,” she breathes. “These are fantastic. Which are you leaning toward?”

  “Not sure yet. Gonna go try them on once I get my car back. You’re coming with me, right?”

  “Of course—oops. You’re getting a text.” Her brows shoot up. “Who is ‘Mercedes’?”

  A smirk curls her mouth while my stomach bottoms out. Fuck, fuck fuck, she’s going to know.

  But she doesn’t, of course. Because plenty of people drive Mercedes, and Marco isn’t part of Lily’s world anymore. I bet she hardly ever thinks of him, actually. I can’t recall the last time we even groaned over a bad Marco joke together. Months, for sure.

  My heart races. “Uh, Mercedes is Gram’s home health aide.”

  Only after it flies out of my mouth do I realize the lie I’ve told. Mercedes is now a person, not a car, as far as Lily knows.

  Filthy guilt licks at my gut, not for the first time in the past week since Marco and I made this weird little agreement. Witnessing Lily’s smiling face makes it all the worse, though. I didn’t mean to lie like that, had decided that the best path was offering as little info as possible.

  Calder hums as Lily pokes her lip out. “Damn. With the way you just answered your phone I was hoping you’d found a potential plus-one to the wedding,” she says.

  I wave my hand and roll my eyes. “This lady’s going stag, sorry. I’m not bringing some rando to your big day. I’d rather dance on my own, thanks. But I do have a date next Thursday.”