Enemies With Benefits (Loveless Brothers 1)

And I haven’t thought about the kiss at all. Not once. Certainly not a hundred times a day when I should be doing something else.

Right now, I’m watching the bridal party make arancini disappear. At this rate they won’t last another two minutes, which is fine with me.

I won’t be making mac and cheese balls, and Violet can’t do a thing about it.

Point: Eli.

“Glad you like them,” I say, smiling at the bride as she delicately eats the other half of hers. “And again, I’m sorry about the situation with the mac and cheese balls,” I lie.

The situation being that I refuse to make the damn things. I don’t mention that part.

“Honestly, these are better than what we sampled when we came down a couple of months ago anyway,” the bride says, carefully wiping crumbs from her fingers. “Thanks for taking the time to make some for us.”

“Yeah, that was so nice of you,” the maid of honor adds. “I think I could eat about twenty!”

I eye the empty glass next to her at the bar. I’d watched her drink at least two gin and tonics from it in the space of ten minutes, and based on how unsteady she seems on her barstool, I suspect she’s had more than that.

Based on the look her sister keeps giving her, I suspect the afternoon might get interesting.

“So, Elliott, are you coming to the wedding? Will I see you tomorrow?” the maid of honor asks, her long fake eyelashes dipping and bobbing.

“It’s Eli, and I’m afraid not,” I say, still leaning against the bar. “They pretty much keep me locked in the kitchen.”

The maid of honor sighs dramatically, her long, shiny black hair spilling over one exposed shoulder.

“That’s too bad,” she says. “I bet you’re great on a dance floor.”

The eyelashes bob again. Emma, the bride, is sitting ramrod-straight on her barstool, the other bridesmaids off to the sides, going over something on a sheet of paper.

Emma takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a moment.

“Susan,” she starts. “Why don’t you —”

The door to the lounge swings open behind them, and they turn as Violet and her intern step through.

I swear that there’s a hitch in her step when she sees me. I swear her eyes blaze with fire for just a second before she puts up her professional veneer, smiling at the room.

I smile back, and now we’re putting on an excellent show for the bridal party who paid an obscene sum of money to be here.

I’m fully aware that, in the scheme of things, switching the appetizers from one kind of fried carbs with cheese to another doesn’t matter. Chances are that no one but me, Violet, and maybe the bride and groom will even know. Tomorrow, during the cocktail hour, exactly zero guests are going to think to themselves, I was expecting mac and cheese balls.

Birds will still sing. Rivers will still flow. The world will keep on turning.

But I’ve won a battle, and I never win battles against Violet. I think I could count the times I’ve bested her on one hand, and God knows that for most of my life I tried at least once a week.

“— Help the girls with their hair and makeup schedule,” Emma finishes, still talking to her maid of honor.

“Hi there!” Violet says, walking toward us. “Welcome to Bramblebush. Congratulations!”

She’s all smiles and professionalism, warm and no-nonsense.

Until she glances over. Then she feels like a firestorm as she takes in the scene and last of all, me. There’s a look. I forget to breathe for a second as I run through it all again: lips tongue teeth hands wall. Tell me to stop. No.

I don’t laugh at my victory. I don’t even grin. I just smile at her, polite and professional as you please, and I resist loudly telling her about the recent appetizer change on the menu. It’s immature and petty, but damn, it feels good.

Besides, dear God Violet is pretty when she’s mad. She’s pretty all the time, but anger sparks something in her eyes that makes her light up like a human flame, burning and flickering from the inside, dangerous and alluring all at once.

This feels dangerous in a way it never has before. Her anger’s always been dangerous, of course, but now there’s something about it that shakes me to the core.

Violet makes me unsteady. She makes it feel like the ground under my feet is treacherous, like I’m exploring new and uncharted territory.

I don’t hate the feeling.

But I can’t stop. If she’s the flame, I’m the moth, and despite myself, I want to see her light up again and again.

“Thanks, Eli, I’ve got it from here,” she says, giving me one last burning glance before turning to the assembled bridal party. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. Shall we finalize everything for tomorrow?”