One Bossy Proposal: Enemies to Lovers Romance

Dakota gasps and leans into me, damned near jumping into my arms.

I lock a protective arm around her.

“It’s okay. He’s just drunk and angry. I’ve got you,” I whisper, picking up the pace as I shepherd her out of here.

I don’t blame her for being scared, even if there’s no direct threat.

It’s nothing I haven’t heard here before.

Life in the camp is hard. It’s an explosive stew of hurt people, and a few of those people are one bad argument and too much booze away from violence.

I’m almost dragging Dakota along with me. Three paces later, we’ve passed the guy, and I look back to make sure he isn’t moving on whoever’s inside that tent.

Sure, I mind my own business. Though if I thought he was putting anyone in danger, I’d step in to stop it after a quick call to the police.

Dakota doesn’t move away until we’ve reached the car, and I make no effort to let her go. Wyatt’s words from earlier echo in my ears.

In an alternate universe where tonight was a date, this could be a chance for a life beyond work with a beautiful woman. Wyatt doesn’t know she’s also brilliant.

There’s some truth to it, dammit.

Trouble is, it’s the most dangerous truth. There are days when I wish I’d lost my leg in Iraq instead of him.

Then I wouldn’t have seen the ravages of love with Wyatt, with my mother, with Regina.

I wouldn’t have taken a dagger in the back from someone who fed me poison from her lips wrapped in promises.

I love you, Lincoln. Now and forever.

My brain throbs, remembering the most toxic phrase of my fucking life.

I should just bring Dakota home. Call it a night and not indulge fantasies that can only grind what’s left of me to a nub. But a promise is a promise, and I’ve always kept mine.

When we reach the car, I throw open the door for her.

“Do you see why you shouldn’t follow me here alone now?” I whisper gently once I’m in the seat next to her.

“Y-yeah. I’m sorry,” she says glumly.

“That’s not an I-told-you-so, Nevermore.” I’m actually glad she followed me today. “Just a nasty reminder that this place can ambush you.”

She nods slowly. The soft city lamps catch her hair and light it like rose gold.

“I get it. I’ll stop stalking you now.”

I give her a serious look.

“No need to do anything so extreme.”

She smiles. “If I’m not supposed to follow you here because it’s unsafe...what’s the alternative?”

“Next time, before you turn into the park, call me first. Tell me you’re behind me,” I say.

“And you’ll do what? Give me a raise for eavesdropping?” she jokes hopefully, raising her eyebrows.

“Nah. I’ll tell you to get lost or escort you in.”

“Oh, Linc, you’re hilarious tonight,” she says with a small snort.

“Only Wyatt calls me that,” I growl.

“And me,” she says insistently.

Brave girl.

I pause to mull it over before I give her a firm look and say, “Okay, Nevermore. And you. I suppose it’s fair considering what I call you—and Linc is a big improvement on Captain Dipshit.”

Damn if we don’t both laugh at that.

Damn if I don’t fall deeper into her while her face screws up, her cheeks glow, and her green eyes catch this honest, happy fire that traps me in the sweetness that is Dakota Poe.

We drive around Seattle for over an hour—probably to Louis’ delight and fat overtime pay—and when I’m out of places to show her, I take a chance and throw my cards on the table.

“Do you want to come back to my place for a glass of wine?”

She gives me a worried look. I’m about to tell her I misspoke when her lips turn up.

“I dunno. Can you cook? I’m about to gnaw my own arm off.”

“I can order the finest takeout this city offers. Pizza or Thai?”

“I can do DoorDash on my own and you didn’t answer my question,” she says with a smile. “Do you cook?”

I shift in my seat before I glare at her.

“For you, Nevermore, I’ll surprise you.” That’s putting it mildly. I haven’t done a simple spaghetti aglio e olio in ages and hope I remember how.

Her laughter echoes through the back of the car.

“So, that’s a yes then? Linc, you’d better wow me.”

Goddamn, do I want to.

And you’d best believe I don’t mean with food.

Dakota stands against my balcony railing, peering out at the night sky after dinner.

She sips from her wineglass when she’s not wearing a permanent smile.

I’m feeling mighty proud I put it there. Thank God I remembered how to make that stupid pasta without burning the garlic into a rancid mess.

Deciding to try my luck, I step up behind her, closing the space between us.

“Fair is fair, Nevermore,” I say, feeling my blood heat when her eyes catch the city lights.