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

by Nikki Lane

  “Come in, come in.” He waved me inside.

  The house was crowded with people. I pulled my hood back down and did my best to stay confident as people stared at my get-up. Kieran was in the middle of a conversation, a deep one no doubt, with a buxom blonde who was wearing a tube top. And here I thought tube tops were passé. I’d seen her before as she was coming or going from the house.

  “Kieran!” Shortie called. He stood on his tiptoes and pointed to my head.

  Kieran smiled, and to Blondie’s dismay, left the conversation to walk over.

  “Rose,” Kieran called over the music. “Glad you came over.” His eyes gleamed over my outfit. “Aw, and you got dressed up.” He turned to Shortie. “This is my neighbor, Rose. Rose, this is Scott.”

  “Hi,” I said curtly.

  “This is your neighbor?” Scott exclaimed. “She’s hot.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Kieran pushed him away. “Back off.”

  Scott held up his hands and scurried away, moving on to another group of girls to annoy.

  “What’s up?” Kieran asked before taking a sip from his cup.

  “What’s up? What’s up? Kieran, it’s three o’clock in the fucking morning. Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “No…”

  “I can’t take this anymore.” I turned to stomp out of the house and call the cops but felt a grip on my arm.

  “Come on, Rose. Don’t be mad. Why are you always mad?”

  “Why are you such an asshole?” I scowled.

  “I’m just trying to have some fun.”

  “Well, I’m just trying to get some sleep.”

  We stood there for a few seconds with our eyes locked.

  “Okay,” he relented. He let go of my arm. “Stay right here.” He walked over to the kitchen and hit a button that turned the music off.

  The crowd stilled as everyone looked around, wondering what happened.

  Kieran climbed onto the kitchen table.

  “Excuse me,” he shouted. “Party’s over. Please leave.”

  Nobody moved, unsure if he was serious.

  “I mean it, folks. Move your asses,” he said in a firmer voice.

  People grumbled, and a few shot me dirty looks as they made their way to the front door. Blondie whispered something into Kieran’s ear and gave him a peck on the cheek. Kieran nodded and whispered something back to her. Whatever he said didn’t make her very happy. She shot me one more dirty look before she strutted her perfect butt out the door.

  “Happy?” he said when it was just the two of us.

  “Thank you.” I turned to make a second attempt at leaving.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “Why don’t you stay?”

  “I’m tired, and you’re drunk.”

  “So?” He followed me as I made my way to the door. “You’re just going?”

  “Yeah, my business here is done.”

  “I thought we could hang out,” he said. “Get to know each other a little bit.”

  It was amazing how impervious he was to my dislike for him. “Are you trying to hit on me?”

  “Well—”

  “Don’t waste your time. I’m definitely not Blondie, and I wouldn’t sleep with you if my life depended on it.”

  “So…is that a no?”

  “Goodnight, Kieran,” I said, walking back toward my house.

  “Goodnight, Rose.”

  * * * *

  I let out a breath of relief as soon as I parked the car in the driveway. I spent the entire school day staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until the end of the day. It was something I discouraged my students from doing, but I couldn’t help it. I knew working a weekday night shift at the restaurant would run me ragged, but I had to make up for the Saturday I had requested off. I’d finished my shift at eleven and got about four hours of sleep.

  I trudged inside, then tossed the paperwork I was carrying and my keys on the kitchen counter. My stomach grumbled, still waiting for the lunch I never ate. The inside of my fridge was pathetic, holding takeout leftovers from the last few nights and a half bottle of Moscato. I swung the door shut and lingered in the kitchen as the doorbell chimed. Who could that be? Dad never took the drive to see me, and Shelby had a spare key.

  I checked the peephole and pulled back from the door when I saw Kieran on the other side. I hesitated for a moment before opening it.

  “Hello,” I said with disdain.

  He wore a pair of tattered jeans and a navy-blue t-shirt that looked like it saw better days. His work boots were stained with dirt, and bits of leaves stuck to the laces.

  “Hi. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

  “No, it’s fine. I just got home from work.” I leaned my body weight against the door.

  “I know we got off on the wrong foot, so I thought I’d offer an olive branch.”

  “Try two wrong feet.”

  He stifled a smile, and I hated how cute it was.

  “I’ll clean the yard up for you.”

  I looked past him at the overgrown grass.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Sure.” He scratched the side of his impressive beard and walked toward the front of the house.

  I walked closer to him as he pointed to a half-brown, half-green shrub that looked like it wanted to be put out of its misery.

  “I can fix this whole part up.” He waved his hand, gesturing to the hot mess of half-dead bushes and overgrown weeds lining the front of the house.

  I listened for a few minutes as he talked perennials and boxwood shrubs.

  “Okay,” I replied when he was finished. “But what will I owe you?”

  “Nothing. I just want to make up for my rude introduction to the neighborhood.”

  I shook my head. “That’s really nice of you but—”

  “I want to do it…really.”

  I’d grown used to thinking of him as the villainous neighbor; surely, there couldn’t be another side to him. Maybe it was his evil twin I’d known. Or an alter ego.

  “Are you trying to tell me that my house is an eye sore?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  He smiled, looking away from me for just a few seconds. “When I’m done with it, you’ll have the best-looking lawn on the block.”

  “Okay. When can you get started?”

  “How about right now?”

  I made one final gaze down the street, noticing the neat and clean landscaping of most of my neighbors. It would be nice to get the mail without having Mr. Garcia throw me disapproving looks. He was meticulous about his yard, and he made it obvious mine really chapped his ass.

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Great.” He looked relieved by my answer.

  “I guess I’ll just go back inside…if you need anything.”

  Need what? Help? I barely knew how to work my toaster oven let alone a weed whacker. I started to walk when I stopped mid-stride. “Thanks, by the way.”

  “No problem.” He smiled again.

  * * * *

  Kieran was already working on the yard when I got home from work. His work ethic was surprising. I gave him a short wave as he worked the weed whacker, and I made my way inside. I busied myself with deciding what leftovers were still okay to eat without risking botulism. Every once in a while I’d sneak a look outside and stare at Kieran. My grass no longer looked like it belonged in an episode of Life After People.

  I made more room in the fridge by deciding to finish off the rest of the Moscato. Just as I poured a glass, the doorbell chimed.

  Kieran was on the other side, resting his palms on the door jamb, his hips cocked to one side. Sweat creased the wrinkles in his shirt, and he smelled like freshly cut grass, which also splattered the soles of his shoes.

  “All finished?” I said.

  He stood up straight and wiped the sweat off his face with the collar of his shirt. “The grass is cut, and I dug up some of
the dead bushes. I’ll do some more tomorrow night after work.”

  His cheeks were flush, and his eyes here heavy. A swarm of gnats was circling around his face. The dusk sky was burning warm in orange and purple.

  “Why don’t you come in for a drink?” I said.

  I was starting to feel bad about accepting his offer. He’d been busting his ass in my yard even after working his normal job.

  Kieran looked down at his clothes. “I would,” he said. “But I don’t want to get the house all filthy. I’m in serious need of a shower.”

  “Why don’t you go home and get cleaned up and come back for dinner.” I was slightly startled at how easily the invitation fell from my mouth.

  His eyes lit up. “Really?”

  There was no backing out of it now. “Sure,” I said, trying to squeeze out every last drop of enthusiasm I had.

  So much for Plan A—watching some random show while eating ice cream directly from the tub.

  He hesitated for a second before saying, “Sure, okay. I’ll be back in about twenty?”

  “Great.”

  I watched him cross the yard back to his house before swinging the door shut and running to the freezer, wondering what the hell I was going to cook. There was a mystery item wrapped in some foil in a Ziploc bag, some frozen waffles, and a small bottle of vodka. If this had been a cooking competition show, I’d be seriously fucked.

  Kieran wasn’t kidding. In twenty minutes, he was showered, dressed, and ringing the doorbell again.

  “It’s open,” I yelled from the kitchen.

  I found a frozen pizza buried behind the vodka. It wasn’t exactly a homecooked meal, but at least it wasn’t leftover Chinese takeout.

  Kieran closed the door behind him and crossed the living room into the kitchen. I did a doubletake as I pulled the pizza out of the oven.

  Gulp. He cleaned up good.

  “I hope you like pizza,” I said, pulling it out of the oven.

  “Love it.”

  “Perfect.” I sat the tray on the counter and grabbed some paper plates from the cabinet. “What can I get you to drink? I have wine.” I opened the fridge. “And water.”

  My vodka stash was for emotional emergencies only.

  Kieran weighed his options for a few seconds. “Wine.”

  “Wine it is.” I poured him a glass before refilling mine. “To new neighbors,” I said. Kieran met his glass with mine before we each took a sip. “Let’s eat.”

  We settled at the counter.

  “How long have you been a landscaper?” I asked before taking a bite.

  I tore a long strand of cheese away from my mouth. I would never be one of those girls who could eat and look pretty doing it.

  “A few years now,” he replied. Kieran took another bite of his pizza. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a teacher,” I said before taking another long sip of wine. “High school English.”

  “Yikes. I don’t think you could pay me enough to go back to high school.”

  I smiled. “I also wait tables on Fridays and Saturdays.”

  “Every weekend?”

  “Just about.”

  My plans with Callum on Saturday distracted me for just a second.

  “When do you give yourself a day off?”

  “Sundays, usually. But I spend most of my time playing catch-up for the rest of the week. More wine?”

  Kieran held up his glass. “How about during the summer?”

  “I usually pick up extra shifts at my other job.”

  “Damn,” he replied. “Overachiever.”

  “Here,” I said, smiling. “Have the last slice.” I plopped it on his plate before he had a chance to argue.

  When he was finished, I took both our plates and tossed them into the trash. Kieran followed me to the couch where we sat on opposite ends. I lounged back, feeling the tingly warmth of the wine spread to my toes.

  Kieran shifted in his seat. “So, do you live here alone?”

  “Yep. I had a roommate, but it didn’t work out.”

  “I live alone, too. I’m not really good at sharing.”

  Something about the way he said it made my cheeks blush.

  “Well, I had the opposite problem,” I said. “I shared too much. Hence, the second job.”

  “What happened?”

  “He took my credit cards without asking and spent me into the poorhouse.”

  “Your roommate was a guy?”

  “He wasn’t just a guy. He was my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend now.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” I replied, thinking it was a good time to refill my glass.

  He knew my dating status. I wasn’t attached, or at least that’s how I made it seem. Now the question was…did I ask him about his? I’d want to know just out of morbid curiosity. He was very cute, after all, especially in that manual-labor-dirt-under-his-fingers kind of way. I was pretty sure Blondie wasn’t his girlfriend. I wanted to ask for Shelby. She would want to know. Maybe I could set them up. Yeah, that was a good idea.

  “How long do you think it will take you to finish my lawn makeover?”

  Shit. I chickened out, lost my chance. Asking about his dating status now would just be awkward.

  “I don’t know.” Kieran smiled and ran a finger over his eyebrow. “It’s in pretty bad shape.”

  “The worst you’ve ever seen?”

  “Pretty close.”

  “Dear God. Really?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been known to make miracles happen.”

  “Good with your hands, are you?” The blood drained from my face. That sounded like a total come-on.

  Kieran chuckled. “Very good.”

  I was unable, as usual, to avoid awkwardness. I took another long sip of wine. How was it that I knew exactly the wrong thing to say at exactly the right time?”

  I glanced at my wrist to check the time. “Wow, it’s getting late.” Only I wasn’t wearing a watch. I had taken it off hours ago. I was on a fucking roll.

  “I better get going.” Kieran got up from the couch and tossed his paper cup into the trash. “Thanks for the pizza.”

  “Thanks for doing the lawn.”

  Kieran smiled so sweet that I wanted to thank him again.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he said, starting toward his house.

  “Great.” I closed the door and tried to convince myself that it could have gone a lot worse.

  Chapter 5

  The call came at about ten the next morning. Dad called from his bed. His hospital bed.

  “Why didn’t you call sooner, Dad?” I asked, throwing on the first thing I could find.

  “I’m fine, honey. Don’t you go worrying yourself for nothing. They took my appendix out one, two, three. The doctor said I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m coming to see you.”

  I barely hung up the phone before I was trotting out the door. Only, when I went to start the car, the engine sputtered and refused to turn over no matter how many times I turned the key. It had been acting strange for a while, emanating strange smells and making weird whining noises. I knew I was pushing my luck by procrastinating. But a small pain hit me in the head every time I remembered how much money I spent the last time I took my car to the mechanic.

  “Dammit.” I smacked the steering wheel.

  This was the last thing I needed. I got out of the car, already calling Shelby’s phone. It went straight to voicemail. I held the phone under my chin and cussed under my breath. Kieran was outside, fiddling with the equipment in the bed of his truck.

  “What’s up?” he asked, probably noticing the conversation I was having with my good for nothing car.

  “My car won’t start.”

  He jumped out of the bed of the truck and smacked the dirt off his hands. “Pop the hood.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Your battery probably needs a jump.”

  He maneuvered the truck across the th
in stretch of grass separating our driveways and then popped the hood. After an unsuccessful attempt at jump-starting my car, Kieran took another look.

  “It’s probably the alternator.” He slammed the hood to my car back down.

  “That sounds expensive.”

  “I’ll have Scott come by to look at it for you.”

  “He’s a mechanic?”

  “Yeah, while he finishes school. He can fix it for you.”

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  “Were you headed out?”

  “Yeah, my dad’s in the hospital, and I was on my way to see him.”

  “Oh, shit. Is he okay?”

  “He’s okay. Appendicitis apparently. He had to have emergency surgery.”

  “Well, do you need a ride? I can take you.”

  “You would do that?”

  He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Sure.”

  I could kiss him. Or at least give him a high-five. “Can we make one quick stop before?”

  I gave directions to the house while Kieran drove. Since Dad was alone when his appendix decided to turn on him, he had to call an ambulance and didn’t have any clean clothes to wear home from the hospital. The small three-bedroom rancher sat on the corner of the street; its red brick front and wrap around porch always a sign that I was home.

  Kieran parked by the curb, since Dad’s car was taking up the driveway. I invited him inside. I didn’t know what kind of condition the house was in or how long I would take.

  Kieran muttered something about the landscaping, and how he wouldn’t have chosen that particular tree for that spot. Once inside, I surveyed the living room and kitchen. There was a frying pan on the stove, a few dirty dishes in the sink. I peeked in the laundry room to find two heaping piles of what looked like dirty laundry.

  Kieran lingered in the living room while I quickly washed the dishes and wiped the countertop off.

  “Who plays?” he asked, staring at the upright piano tucked into the corner of the room.

  I hung the dishtowel on the oven door handle. “I do. I used to anyway.”

  “Really?” He opened the lid. His fingers tapped a few of the white keys. “Will you play something?” he asked as I straightened a stack of my father’s books on the coffee table.

  “It’s a been a while since I’ve played.”

  It was a small lie. Sometimes I would sneak into the choir room at the school and play after everyone left.