Hard to Hate: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Hard to Love Book 1)

by L. M. Reid

  “Why do you assume he’s waiting for you to fail?” he counters. “Maybe, he’s waiting to see you succeed.”

  “Well, there’s the fact that he called me a drunken mess.”

  “Wow, he does sound kind of like a dick. I bet, if he were here, he would say he’s sorry. And, he would probably tell you that you impressed him the other night.”

  “Thank you,” I say shyly. His voice is so sincere that the kindness he is extending to me almost makes me nervous. I’m not really sure how to respond to this side of him, especially since I kind of like it.

  “You seem like you’re feeling better,” he says. His words sound almost sincere. So, for once, I don’t argue. I allow the conversation to be what it is.

  “I’m getting there.”

  “It’ll take a while, but you’ll make it,” Griffin tells me.

  “Speaking from experience?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  The fact that he’s right, startles me. I do want to know. There is so much I want to know about him. If nothing else, the man intrigues me, makes me feel when for so long I just felt numb. He is a light, a very frustrating light, in a very dark tunnel. None of which I can tell him since it will only make me seem that much more crazy.

  He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “With me? Always.”

  “Ask away,” I say.

  “Is there a reason that you dislike me so much?”

  “Aside from you stealing my drink and interfering in my life?”

  “Yeah, aside from that.”

  “Nothing personal. I just know your type.”

  “My type, huh? Exactly what type is that?”

  Sexy, hot, gorgeous, kissable. “Handsome, rich, arrogant, and full of shit.”

  That trademark smirk of his, the one that does melt the panties off of every woman he directs it at, is directed at me now and having the same effect.

  “What?” I ask confused by why exactly he’s smiling at the unflattering description I just gave of him.

  “You think I’m hot,” he replies.

  That’s what he got out of what I said? Figures. “That right there, that’s why I don’t like you. You’re impossible.”

  “Well, that’s an improvement over you calling me an asshole. Maybe next week, you’ll even say I’m tolerable.”

  “Doubtful.”

  His phone rings. His face changes the instant he looks down at the screen. “Woman problems?”

  “Women are never a problem for me. Well, except for you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He holds up the phone. “Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll see you around.”

  He walks away and I can’t help but to just watch him. I’m entranced by him. The man exudes confidence. While I may not be able to see his face, I can still see it as he walks down the street. Squared shoulders, a swagger to his walk. None of it is forced. Once hundred percent of it is just him. Calm, cool, and completely comfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t need to seek the approval of others. Maybe there is one thing I like about him after all. Then, I remember the package that was staring at me when I first turned toward him. Okay, maybe there’s two.

  11

  Griffin

  “You okay? Gabe asks as he stands next to me at the bar.

  It’s a slow night. The club is still packed, but nowhere near the capacity we usually run at. I’m enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. I’m also trying to enjoy the company of the woman standing next to me. Kirsten, not Kristen. She’s noted that several times. Each time I assured her that I wouldn’t screw it up. Mostly because, well, I have no intention of saying her name. A simple baby, or sweetheart works just as well. It’s makes what this is less personal. Either way whatever Kirsten, not Kristen, and I have going isn’t going to last past tonight.

  She’s nothing more than a distraction from the woman that my body is dying to have but my brain is telling me I can’t. I touch her, kiss her, and rub against her. Nothing. Not so much as a damn stirring in my pants when just looking at Chloe from across the room makes me rock hard.

  “I’m good, just tired.”

  Gabe raises his eyebrows to signify he doesn’t buy my bullshit.

  Nodding my head toward the blonde I say, “I’ll be fine.”

  Blondie over here, she’s the key to solving all my problems. Or at least the most important one – wanting Chloe.

  With a shake of his head Gabe moves on to check out the situation in Valet. I turn my focus back onto Kristen. Fuck, Kirsten.

  “Hey, baby, what do you say…” I begin. The distinct sound of shattering glass emerges from behind me. I turn to see my newest employee right smack dab in the middle of the mess.

  The sound reverberates through the club and several people turn. Even from clear across the bar I can see Chloe’s cheeks flush a bright red, her eyes wide with that deer in headlights look to them.

  I should be pissed about the money she cost me. Yet, I am anything but. Instead, I feel bad for her. A desire to rush to her and protect her comes over me despite the fact that I am about the furthest thing from a white knight as you can get.

  The woman next to me makes a snide comment about Chloe and begins to giggle. If she thinks it impresses me, she’s wrong. The look I shoot her has her stammering to cover her tracks. I’m already over her bullshit and ready to go rescue Chloe.

  When I finally reach her, she’s squatting down trying to clean up the mess, a string of expletives coming out of her mouth to rival that of a truck driver. I flag down Gabe to come clean up the glass before reaching for Chloe and placing my hand on her arm. I help her to her feet and instruct her to follow me. She stills as Gabe rushes by to clean up the glass.

  I place my hand on the small of her back to help get her feet moving again and guide her to where I need her to go. And fuck it all if that touch doesn’t sear me just like it did the first time that I touched her.

  Rather than taking her to my office, I settle on the idea that some fresh air will do her good so I move us in the direction of the back door. As I open if for her she plants her feet on the floor and refuses to go through it.

  “No,” she declares.

  “Excuse me?”

  I want to be angry at the tone she’s taking with me, the same one she seems to take every time we talk. Problem is, her attitude, her anger toward me all it does is spark my interest in her even more. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I so hell bent on this woman when there is a much more compliant one waiting for me inside?

  “You are not firing me,” she says adamantly.

  “You’re right, I’m not.”

  “I will pay for the glass, but I am not about to lose this job because your bar porter left a stack of glasses directly behind me.”

  “I agree,” I say.

  I’m still holding the door open, hoping she will just walk through it. There are too many people milling around. While I may be enjoying this obstinate behavior from her, I sure as hell don’t want any of my other employees seeing it.

  “Go outside,” I instruct her.

  “No.”

  No? Is she serious?

  “My club, my rules. Get. Out. Side.”

  “I am not leaving. I will not let you fire me.”

  “If you keep this shit up, I might do just that. Get outside,” I say my voice raising and filling with frustration.

  She steps outside and folds her arms across her chest being as defiant as ever. And still, it is doing nothing to deter my attraction to her.

  “What the hell is your problem?” I ask her.

  “What’s yours?” she retorts.

  I scrub a hand over my face. Aside from her anger, she’s being completely irrational. It was just some glass. Shit happens. Does she really think that I would fire her over something so ridiculous?

  Then I recall what I told her on h
er first night. She’s on probation. One fuck up and she’s out. Shit.

  “Chloe…”

  “Don’t Chloe me. You can’t hold one mistake over my head forever. One that never even had anything to do with Lust. I have been doing a damn good job and if you’re going to fire me over this, then you’re an even bigger asshole than I…”

  I need her to shut up. Silence her, the only way that I know how. Talking to her won’t work. She’s so fired up that I don’t even think yelling at her would work. So, I do the only other thing I can think of. The one thing I shouldn’t do, but fuck if I haven’t wanted to since the moment that I laid eyes on her. I kiss her.

  My lips press against hers, hard and fast, and Christ it only makes me want more. Lucky for me, or unlucky depending on how you look at it, she responds. Her lips part, the tension in her releases causing her to melt into me. My hands are on either side of her face, holding her to me. Fingers dig into my sides, pulling me against her.

  This is wrong, Griffin. I try to tell myself what a bad idea this is, that I shouldn’t be doing this. I can’t seem to pull back though. I don’t even want to.

  Her back is against the wall, my hips pinning her there, my hands moving from her face down her perfect fucking body. When my hands reach the hem of her skirt and begin to slide up her thighs under the fabric the fog finally clears. I pull back, panting, unable to catch the breath that she stole from me.

  With my forehead resting against hers, I say, “If you would just shut up and listen to me, you would have heard me say I’m not firing you. Not for this at least. Your attitude is a different story.”

  “You’re… you’re not firing me?”

  I shake my head slowly. “Nope. To be honest, the thought never even crossed my mind. Not until you opened your mouth and started yelling at me in front of other employees.” I break our connection. “Pull that shit again and I assure you I will show you the door.”

  “So why did you bring me out here?” she asks.

  That’s a good question. A better question is why am I out here with her? This is what I pay Gabe to deal with. I smile and play nice with the customers, sleep with the ones I want, and let Gabe clean up the messes. In turn, I pay him a shit ton of money. So why did I hurry to Chloe’s aid? Why did I try to play her hero when I am anything but?

  “I thought you could use some air,” I reply.

  I know I sure as hell need some right now as I move further away from her.

  “Oh.”

  I don’t say anything, I just watch her as the tension releases from her shoulders, her face softening, and for once she doesn’t look like she hates me. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t let it happen again,” I tell her. “Take ten and then get your ass back to work.” I head through the door back into the club, but I stop and turn back to her before it closes. “I’m not as bad as you think I am.”

  I don’t know why I tell her that or why I care what she thinks of me, but I do. Then I let the door close behind me because that kiss, it’s fucking with my mind. Making me think things that I shouldn’t be – like kissing her again.

  I stride back into the club, the woman I had been entertaining earlier still waiting right where I left her. As enticing as she looked earlier, after having had a taste of Chloe, nothing about her intrigues me in the slightest.

  Gabe approaches a concerned look on his face. “Everything okay?”

  “She’s fine, she’ll be back in a few,” I tell him.

  “What about you?” he asks.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snap.

  Kissing Chloe has me slightly unhinged. Apparently enough that even Gabe can tell.

  “Nothing, you just look a little…”

  I glare at him, making him stop mid-sentence, but there is a hint of amusement on his face. Looking down at my shirt, I realize the material is rumpled and untucked where Chloe gripped it.

  Fuck.

  “I’m fine. Ready to get back to my date,” I lie. I don’t want that woman, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Gabe know just how right he is.

  I signal the bartender to give me the bottle. I grab it by the neck, and head back toward the woman. Taking her hand in mine, I throw a smile in Gabe’s direction and head back toward my office.

  Yep, I’m good. And I’ll be even better in a little while. I just need sex.

  And to stay as far away from Chloe as possible.

  12

  Chloe

  My feet are killing me, and my head is pounding.

  I just made it through my second week Lust. My second week working in close proximity with a man that I can’t stand but my body can’t seem to resist. This whole scenario might just work out. If, and this is a big if, I don’t screw it up.

  I lost it tonight. The moment I felt my back hit the rack of glasses, I knew exactly what was going to happen. I tried to brace myself for it, but the sound of the shattering glass made me panic. There was so much glass, such a mess and then there was Griffin’s hand on my elbow. Then my back as he led me to the back door.

  I was still on probation. One mistake and I was out because as far as Griffin was concerned, our first meeting and my behavior, that was my first mistake. As much as I hate him for that, it made me learn something. My behavior in my personal life, it can affect my professional life. And if I really want to succeed, I need to keep my shit in line.

  The idea of losing this job though, for something that wasn’t my fault, or at least not completely my fault, set me off. I wasn’t about to lose this job. Or if I was, I sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight. So, I snapped. I snapped and I yelled.

  Much to his credit, Griffin remained eerily calm for most of it. I continued to yell, spew God knows what at him while he just stood there. I saw the minute his resolve broke, it was about the same time I called him an asshole – again. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do or what to expect from a man that is so typically in control. He did the one thing that I never expected. He kissed me. His lips pressing against mine. I should have hated it, I should have wanted to push him off at me, tell him to go to hell. I should have, but I didn’t. I don’t remember much about the night Griffin and I met, my drunken state clouding most of it. I do remember our kiss though, the one I pressed to his lips. It was good, but this time, it was a whole new playing field.

  The taste of the whiskey on his lips, the desire fueled by anger and hate. Except when his lips are on me, I don’t hate him. I just – want him. Every piece of him. Maybe I don’t hate him after all. Maybe the problem is that I in fact, like him. Could I really like this man that is so far from anything I understand or have ever wanted? He’s a lot of things – kind and smart. But he’s also arrogant and smug. To him, women only serve one purpose – to pleasure him.

  He’s everything I hate and yet, he’s also everything I want.

  I could taste the whiskey on his breath and all I wanted to do was get drunk on him.

  I had been so sure he was going to fire me. He didn’t though, instead he made it okay.

  In return all I gave him was a weak ass apology.

  By the time I got back to the floor, Griffin was nowhere to be found. It was a good thing too because I’m pretty sure if I had to face him again, I may have combusted.

  As much as I don’t want to face him again, I have too. I need to apologize to him and make amends. I may not like the man but if I’m honest with myself, he’s really done nothing but try to help me.

  Sucking up my pride I head to his office and knock on the door. When I hear a muffled response, I reach for the handle and push the door open.

  “Hey, Griffin, I just…” Stepping into his office my eyes fall on him sitting on the couch with some blonde straddling his lap. And she is most certainly very naked. “Oh my God.”

  It’s like watching a car crash. I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t seem to help it. I begin to apologize but stop myself. It wasn’t more than an hour ago that Griffin was kissing me
and now he’s fucking her. To think I was going to apologize to him. Hell, I had intended on thanking him for helping me, for being so kind.

  “Chloe,” he exclaims.

  The moment my name falls from his lips it snaps me out of my trance and I bolt from his office slamming the door behind me.

  Seconds later I hear my name again, Griffin’s voice calling after me. I feel his hand on my elbow, the skin where he touches yearning for more.

  Christ Chloe, the man was just fucking another woman. Why the hell would you even want his hands anywhere near you?

  “Is there something I can do for you?” he asks.

  I turn to him, yanking my arm from his hold. The sight of him causes my breath to hitch. His shirt is untucked, most of the buttons undone, a clear indication of what I just interrupted.

  “I came to apologize,” I say. “But I changed my mind.”

  “Why is that?” he asks taking a step closer to me.

  “Because I thought I was wrong about you.” I glance over his shoulder to his office, then I look him dead in the eye, “But you just went and proved I was right all along.”

  “Whatever it is that you think you know about me, Chloe, I assure you, you have no fucking clue.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. And I don’t give a damn.”

  “If that were true, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.” The corner of his mouth turns up and that cocky smirk of his does things to me that make me hate myself when I should hate him.

  Just apologize Chloe. Apologize and walk away. It’s the job you care about, the job you want. Not this egotistical man that turns your insides into mush and makes your pussy drip at just the sight of him.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” I bite out through gritted teeth.

  “Which part? The broken glass or the kiss?”

  “Both. Neither will happen again,” I assure him.

  If I’m so adamant about hating this man and now wanting him, then why does it sting so badly when he agrees with me.

  He turns to walk away, but pauses. “Oh, and, next time? Don’t walk into your boss’s office uninvited.”