If You Let Me: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Nikki Lane

  “What happened to welcome to the neighborhood?” he said.

  “Consider this it.” I held up my middle finger without breaking my stride.

  * * * *

  I’d put the groceries I’d picked up on my way home from work in Dad’s fridge. His vision wasn’t what it used to be, so he was driving less and less.

  “I’ll make you something to eat before I go,” I said from the kitchen.

  “You don’t have to,” he said from his spot on the recliner. “I can heat up one of those frozen meals.”

  I pulled out some peppers and the chicken breast I’d bought. “Dad, that stuff tastes terrible. And it isn’t good for you, either.”

  “I don’t think it’s too bad.”

  Between me and Aunt Sarah, Dad had a homecooked meal a few times a week. I shuddered to think what he ate those other days. I’d gone with him to his routine doctor’s appointment the week before. His sugar was better, but still needed work.

  While he ate, I did a load of laundry and changed the sheets on his bed. As a kid, I hadn’t noticed my dad’s age. He was just a regular dad to me. But at my high school graduation, it was clear my father was much older than the others. I’d learned from Aunt Sarah back then that he was nine years older than Mom. Maybe it was one of the reasons why she left.

  “I found these,” I said, tossing the Ring Dings on the table. “Explain yourself.”

  Dad stopped chewing and looked up at me. I sat in the other chair. Growing up, we’d had every meal together on that worn oak table.

  “No comment.”

  “Dad…”

  “I want a lawyer.”

  I stifled a laugh. “You can’t eat these.” I picked up the package and threw it into the trash. “I’m telling Aunt Sarah.”

  “Snitch.”

  I laughed and kissed him on the head. “If you need anything else, just call.”

  “You’re my number one girl,” he said.

  I smiled wide. It was the line he said every time. “I know, Dad.”

  * * * *

  A while had passed since I threatened the neighbor from hell and not a peep was heard from his house. No music. No keg in the yard. Not a fuck boy to be found. I smugly went to bed that night, pretty damn happy I had made myself understood. I was not to be messed with. I nuzzled into the pillow, knowing sleep would come fast.

  When my eyes popped open what seemed like minutes later, I was half convinced it was something from a dream that woke me. But then I heard the noise again. What the hell was that sound clawing at the back of my head? Stupid new neighbor. It was an ungodly noise at an ungodly hour.

  What was that?

  I propped up on my elbows in the bed, scrunching my eyes and perking my ears. I checked the time on my phone. It’d only been a few hours since I’d fallen asleep. I flung back the comforter and stumbled out of my warm bed. It was coming from outside.

  I looked through the window and spotted a silhouette walking around the new neighbor’s front yard. It disappeared around the back of the house, carrying the sound with it.

  Wonderful. Just wonderful. This was the last thing I needed after the week from hell at work.

  I snatched my flannel robe off the floor and slid on my boots just before stomping out of the house. The cool air sliced through me as my rubber boots clobbered the asphalt. I didn’t hesitate for a second when I trampled over the grass, making my way to the backyard, the noise so loud it was pulsing in my forehead.

  Through the darkness of night, a thin stretch of moonlight filtered over someone hunched over, clutching a chain saw and hacking the crap out of the shrubs. No shirt—again—no jacket. Just a pair of jeans and some untied work boots.

  “Hello?” I yelled.

  Nothing.

  I took a few steps closer. “Excuse me!”

  It was loud enough to get his attention. He turned, not as surprised to see me as I was to find him giving the bushes a haircut at two in the morning.

  He gazed at me with keen eyes. His dark unkempt hair only added to his unruly aura.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, still trying to be heard over the incessant nagging of the chain saw.

  He cupped his hand over his ear.

  “Could you cut it off?” I yelled.

  He flicked a switch, filling my ears with a deafening silence.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I asked exasperated, almost forgetting I didn’t need to shout.

  I waited a few seconds for him to give me some kind of signal that English was his first language.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied, surprised he needed to ask. “It’s two in the morning.”

  He set the chain saw down and took the work gloves off each hand. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Well, take a sleeping pill like the rest of the world. Last time I checked you weren’t supposed to operate one of those things when sleep deprived.”

  He gave me a small smile, changing the whole shape of his face. “I can’t wait for spring.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My favorite season.”

  “And I’m happy for you. But could you wait until normal waking hours to start your gardening?”

  He looked down at the grass, avoiding my face the entire time I spoke. “Landscaper.”

  “What?” I muttered.

  “I’m a landscaper, not a gardener.” He nodded toward me, his eyes lingering on my chest. “You look cold.”

  I wrapped my robe close to my body. He’d seen more than enough already.

  “Don’t you own a shirt?” I said, trying to deflect the attention off myself.

  Working outside—planting petunias and shoveling mulch or whatever the hell landscapers did—had done his body good.

  “Shirts?” He looked down at his bare chest. “Yeah, plenty. Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “This is a quiet neighborhood, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Do you live around here?”

  Was he serious?

  I squinted at him. “Are you high?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I live next door.” I jutted my thumb toward my house. “Don’t you remember?”

  His eyes widened a little. “Oh yeah. Sorry, I was a little out of it that night.”

  “Sort of like tonight, right now?”

  “What are you like the neighborhood watch or something?”

  I knew he meant it as a joke, but I wasn’t amused.

  “Just, please. No more.”

  His eyes glanced behind me before focusing back on my face. “You want to come in for a drink?”

  I looked around the backyard. “I gotta get back to bed.”

  “Wait,” he called as I started back to my house.

  I stopped and turned, seeing him pick up the chainsaw.

  “You didn’t tell me your name.”

  “Rose.”

  “Kieran,” he said. “Let me know if you need to be fertilized, Rose.”

  “Excuse me?” I snapped.

  “Your lawn,” he said with a smirk. “I meant your lawn.”

  Sure he did.

  “It looks like it could use some work. This time of year, it’s good to fertilize.”

  I didn’t turn around, just kept my line of sight forward. “I’m not interested in you fertilizing anything, especially my lawn.”

  I gave him a short wave of my hand as he shouted one last goodnight.

  * * * *

  “You want to grab a drink tonight after work?” Shelby said as we both waited for the last of our food orders to be ready.

  One of the dishwashers dropped a pan. The clanging of metal reverberated through my teeth.

  “I can’t,” I replied. “I gotta’ get some sleep and wake up at a decent hour tomorrow to finish grading papers.”

  “Yeah,” she said, squinting at me. “You don’t look good.”

  “Thanks,” I scoffed.

&n
bsp; “Why haven’t you been sleeping? Insomnia? I bet you it’s stress. You’re so tense all the time.”

  “When I went to my dad’s yesterday, I’d found more cupcakes. The man has a habit.”

  “So he has a cupcake every once in a while?”

  “He’s a diabetic, Shel. And it’s not once in a while.”

  Shelby fixed her cleavage, which set the whole kitchen in an uproar.

  “Why do you do that in here?” I asked.

  But I already knew it was because she loved the attention. We loaded plates of food onto our trays.

  “And let’s not forget my new neighbor is a lunatic. First, he had this insane party, and then he was out hacking at his bushes with a chainsaw at two in the morning.”

  “So, it’s a guy?” she asked. “What does he look like?”

  “Did you just hear what I said? The guy’s nuts.”

  “That can be sexy.” She stole a french fry from one of my plates and popped it into her mouth. “Did you talk to him?”

  “Yeah, to tell him to shut the fuck up and sleep like a normal person.”

  “Is he cute?”

  I grabbed the last plate of my order and hoisted the tray onto my shoulders. “I guess,” I said frustrated. “In a crazy, sort of way.”

  I didn’t want to admit I had a hard time keeping my eyes off him even though I was annoyed beyond comprehension—a fact that only made me even more annoyed.

  She smiled and followed me out of the kitchen with her own tray. “Sounds like a real hottie.”

  We each went our separate ways and delivered trays of food to the hungry Saturday-night dinner crowd. I thought, more than once, about quitting this second job. But then I remembered how the extra money I made in tips helped me to maintain certain luxuries that I wasn’t willing to live without…like electricity or food. I had accrued a nice pile of debt thanks to my ex’s constant lack of a stable job and feverish habit of taking my for-emergencies-only credit card without asking me.

  It was only nine, and already I was so exhausted I could face plant right into the dressing and blissfully suffocate in creamy Italian. The crowd showed no promise of dying down, and when I saw who the hostess sat at my section, I seriously considered death by salad dressing.

  “Shelby,” I whisper-shouted, waving her over after she delivered drinks to her table.

  She scurried toward me, her eyebrows pulled together as I yanked her in close behind the wall that separated the kitchen and the dining room.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “I just got another table.”

  “So?”

  “Look,” I whined. “But don’t make it obvious that you’re looking.”

  She peered her eyes behind the wall, her body leaning ever so slightly. “Holy shit,” she gasped, smiling. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Did you tell him you worked here?”

  I racked my brain, trying to remember. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

  We both peeked behind the wall together, watching as Callum sat at the four-top with someone else, someone who happened to be a woman.

  “Do you think that’s his wife?” Shelby asked.

  The kitchen doors swung open and shut behind us.

  “I don’t know,” I moaned. “What the hell, what the hell. Why is he here?”

  The kitchen door swung open again as a runner carried dirty dishes in the back. One of the chefs yelled something about Shelby’s order, forcing her to abandon her duty as my human shield and return to work.

  “Play it cool,” she said to me as she walked back into the kitchen.

  I smoothed down my black vest and pulled at the collar of my button-down shirt. Despite what my instincts were yelling, I forced myself to walk in Callum’s direction, all the while remembering that breathing was required if I wanted to survive the journey.

  “Hello.” I cleared my throat, avoiding all eye contact. “My name is Rose, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?”

  My eyes betrayed me. They peeked beyond my lashes to a catch a glimpse of Callum, peering back up at me from behind the menu. He smiled, small but warm.

  “Hello, Rose.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” My voice sounded like the woman who did all the automated phone recordings.

  For a martini, please press eight, followed by the pound sign.

  Callum looked at the woman sitting across from him. She looked up at me with almond-shaped, chestnut eyes. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, grazing her back. She smelled like the coconut suntan lotion Shelby slathers on at the beach.

  “I’ll have a dirty martini, extra dirty.”

  My kind of girl.

  I nodded, turned to Callum for his drink order, and high-tailed it to the bar as soon as the last word left his lips. I pleaded with Shelby to take over the table for me as we both waited for drinks to be poured. She conceded, and I spent the rest of the night staring at Callum’s table.

  I watched Callum put the fork to his mouth while I almost overpoured a customer’s glass of water. I snuck a peek at him when I was delivering food to another table, just missing a head-on collision with a coworker. I steered clear of that area of the dining room as much as possible, avoiding all eye contact with Callum when I was close.

  But I felt his eyes watching me, and it made me a nervous wreck.

  I felt sweet relief when Shelby delivered the check to his table. The dinner crowd died down, and I retreated to the back to finish the side work for the night.

  Twenty minutes later and I was certain I could relax. The dressings were refilled, the lemons were cut, and I ripped off my apron and threw it into the linen’s basket.

  “Rose,” Shelby called, pushing through the kitchen doors. “He’s asking for you.”

  I froze. “Who is?”

  “Who do you think? Lover boy.”

  A slew of whistling commenced from behind the line.

  I pulled her to a dark corner of the kitchen. “Say it a little louder next time.”

  “He wants to see you. Go out there.”

  “I can’t. I don’t know what to say.”

  She rolled her eyes and grabbed me by the elbow. “Just go.”

  She opened one of the doors and pushed me out of the kitchen with a surprising strength.

  I took a deep breath, wiping my sweaty palms against my pants. It did absolutely nothing. The dining room was just about empty with a few couples still talking over dessert. Callum sat at the table alone, his dark button-down shirt popping out against the cream-colored linen tablecloth. His gaze was focused on his phone.

  “Did you enjoy dinner?” I asked.

  He looked up at me, setting his phone on the table.

  “I did. I just have one complaint.”

  “Really?”

  “I’d hoped to see more of you.”

  I felt the rush of blood flood my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said, fluttering my eyes away from his for just a moment. “I got really busy with my other tables.”

  “Why don’t you sit for a second?” He gestured to the empty seat.

  My shift was nearly over anyway, so I plopped down. “Where’s your girlfriend?” I flinched, not believing I actually said the words out loud.

  “My what?”

  “Your girlfriend. The woman who had dinner with you.”

  He leaned back in his seat. “Paige is not my girlfriend. She’s my sister.”

  A wave of relief flooded over me. I bit my lip, trying to stifle the smile that was desperate to escape.

  “Well, whoever chose the restaurant made a good choice. Best meal you’ll get in the whole city,” I said.

  “I chose the restaurant, but it had nothing to do with the food. I remembered you mentioned your second job here, waiting tables.” He leaned in closer, the candlelight flickering in his ice blue eyes.

  Dammit. Who knew what other telling information I
spewed during my drunken daze. This man could have known my deepest darkest secrets. He might have known that I still slept with my baby blanket, or that I liked to eat cake frosting right out of the container.

  “I haven’t stopped thinking of you since that night.”

  “You haven’t?” I thought I was going to melt right there in the chair.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. He stared at me with an intensity that tore through my body. “I was disappointed when I woke up in my room alone.”

  “I thought it’d be best if I just left.”

  Or more like scurried around the room like a cracked-out squirrel looking for her last nut.

  “Let me take you out to dinner.”

  I hesitated. Saturdays were my usual money days at work. But I never had a Saturday off. It would give me an excuse to take off and enjoy part of my weekend. But did I really want to go on an actual date with this guy? I wasn’t so sure.

  “Okay,” I said, in just above a whisper.

  “Great.”

  I gave him my number, and by the end of the conversation, the dining room cleared out. I walked Callum to the front door.

  “I’ll see you soon, Rose.”

  He planted a soft kiss on my cheek and left.

  Chapter 4

  I debated for a while on my next move. It was almost three in the morning, and the music from next door was still thumping in my bedroom. I propped up in bed and rubbed my temples. This was the second time in the last two weeks Kieran’s house had turned into a nightclub. Last time, I’d resisted the urge to stomp over there again. I’d just rolled around in bed with a pillow over my head, cursing into the pillowcase.

  I didn’t want to a Debbie Downer…but come on.

  I threw on a hoodie over my cami and shorts and slipped on rain boots. A light mist hit my hair and shoulders, and I grumbled as I threw my hood over my head. Whoever answered the door was going to be sorry.

  It took a solid three minutes of fist pounding until someone answered.

  “Why, hello,” cried a short guy with a buzz cut and a rhinestone stud in one of his ears.

  It could have been a diamond, but I doubted it. He was holding a red plastic cup.

  “And what can I do for you, little lady?” he said.

  I never had more of an urge to punch someone in the face.

  “I’m looking for Kieran.”