Happily Enemy After (Hawthorne Brothers 2)

Speaking of the devil. Oh shit.

I quickly turn away and pick up my cup of coffee. It’s still hot, but nowhere near as hot as my cheeks, which feel like they’re evaporating. I wish I could evaporate and vanish from here.

Violet, you are such an idiot.

“Hi, Asher,” Casey greets.

I try to catch her gaze so I can tell her with my eyes to make him go away, but her attention is completely on him. Of course it is.

“Hi.”

He offers her his hand and she shakes it while obviously trying to hold back her profuse enthusiasm.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Cassandra,” she introduces herself. “But you can call me Casey. Junior. Huntsman Program. Math isn’t my favorite subject but I know five languages. And I know how to cook.”

I roll my eyes. What’s this? A girlfriend résumé? Why doesn’t she just ask him outright if he wants to have sex with her? I’m sure he does.

“Huntsman, hmm?” Asher replies. “Impressive.”

See.

“And this is Violet Cleary.”

I almost choke on my coffee.

“She’s pursuing an MBA just like you. She’s good at math, too. And she… Ow!”

She pulls her hand away right after I give it a hard squeeze. Then she glares at me.

“What the hell?”

That’s my line.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet both of you,” Asher says. “Especially you, Casey. Enjoy your coffee. Maybe next time, you and I can grab a cup.”

So he’s ignoring me?

Casey gives him a smile. “I’d love that.”

“Good.”

I hear him start to walk away.

“Oh, and I love your shirt!” Casey calls after him. Then she continues in a softer voice only I can hear. “Though I think you’d look better without it.”

I put my cup down and frown. “I swear if you faint, I’m going to leave you here.”

She doesn’t seem to have heard me. Her gaze is still towards the other end of the room.

“He is so much hotter up close.”

“And more arrogant.”

I bet he was smirking as he walked away.

“You’re just jealous because I’m the one he asked out for a cup of coffee.”

I make a sweeping motion with my hands. “By all means, have him. Please.”

After all, there’s no way I’d ever be interested in going out with Asher Hawthorne.

~

Fine. Maybe I’d be a little interested.

I make the concession as I slowly traverse one of the Classic Literature aisles in the library, my fingertips brushing against the spines of the books.

I’m not a voracious reader, but I did own a copy of Pride and Prejudice once. For a time, I wished I had my own Mr. Darcy to give me a comfortable life.

Now, I’m determined to give that to myself. That’s why I studied economics and finance diligently even though what I wanted was to be a math teacher for the fifth or sixth grade, the best years of my life. That’s why I’m here at Wharton trying to give myself the best chance of success in the corporate world. Still, sometimes, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if I didn’t have to work, if I could follow my dream, if I didn’t have to worry about money because I had a wealthy, supportive husband who could give me just as much as I needed.

A man like Asher Hawthorne.

Whoa. Just a while ago, I was against dating him. Now, I’m thinking of marrying him? No way.

Asher Hawthorne may be wealthy, but he’s still a pompous ass. And a playboy. And…

“Looking for something?” A voice interrupts my thoughts.

I turn my head and see Asher standing right in front of me.

Shit.

I hug my laptop to my chest as I step back. My heart pounds against the padded cotton.

How many times does he plan on nearly giving me a heart attack before this day is over?

“Violet, right?” he asks.

Why did Casey have to give him my name?

“Yes,” I reply, not feeling like I have any other choice. “If you’re looking for Casey, she’s—”

“I’m not looking for Casey.”

The certainty in his voice matched by the intensity of his gaze—why is he looking at me like I’m some kind of prey?—sends a shiver down my spine. A lump forms in my throat.

I swallow. “Well, I’m not looking for any book, either, so I’m going.”

I turn around and start to walk away.

Why did I have to bump into Asher of all people?

“Wait.”

I let out a deep breath as I stop in my tracks. Now what?

“Lloyd Finley is throwing a party at his house tomorrow night. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

My eyebrows crease. He’s asking me out? Didn’t he hear all the things I said about him? Is he just going to ignore all that? Is this some kind of mockery or masochism?

“No, thanks,” I give him my straight answer and keep walking.

“Why not?”

Okay. So the rumors are right. This man doesn’t take no for an answer.