Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

“I think we should tell Sam and then go from there. I want him to know from the start. Then we can try dating. And if that works out, and we don’t eat each other alive, maybe we can tell my parents and your mom.”

Hal looks at me and wiggles his eyebrows. “I’d really like to eat you alive.”

Good holy Swiss cheese and bee’s knees. I can’t deny the awakening that happens inside me at those words. Hal, it turns out, doesn’t live so far from where he works. He pulls up to a very tall, kind of thin, super modern house that is probably four stories high. There’s a narrow driveway, a two-car garage, glass railings, smooth white stucco stuff or whatever it is, and lots of brown and black trim.

“Here we are.”

“But…but this is too modest. You can’t live here!”

I mean, I realize the neighborhood is all brand new and full of houses like this. We came upon it, and I didn’t even notice. But still, it looks like any average family could afford these houses.

Hal grunts at me, which is pretty talented of him because he does it while grinning at me like I’m absurdly funny. Or rather, trying to be, which I’m not.

“Well, are you coming in, or do you want to wait here? You can give me the information, and I can do the transfer.”

I feel weird now, making him do this if we’re going to be dating. God. Dating. For reals. It’s pretty mind-blowing, and I’m still at the point where I don’t honestly believe it’s real. I can’t believe I’m even considering it. But it’s not like this has to change my plans. I give Hal credit for knowing me as well as he does and knowing how much it would hurt me if he demanded I keep the bakery and stay in Bellevue when I’ve already decided I don’t want to do that. He’s already giving me all the options in the world. I just can’t believe he wants to date me and that he said he’d waited years to do it. Haladon Walker. This is Hal I’m thinking about.

“You’re overthinking things already. It’s easier if we just roll with the punches.”

“Yeah, punches my brother will probably send your way.”

Hal shrugs in that annoying blasé way of his where it seems like he’s willing to just up and live with whatever the world has to serve him. “Doubtful. Anyway, we can talk about that later. Are you coming?”

I glance up at the towering house one more time. “I had better,” I hear myself saying. “I can’t risk you doing it wrong and sending it to someone else. Because that would suck.”

What’s one more bad idea? I’m about to leap off a cliff into a lake full of them anyway. Not that Hal really, truly is a bad idea. I’m already coming around to the notion of uh…well, yeah—the big us. I know the leap might be rocky at first when it comes to our families, but we’ll probably assemble our broken bones and get back to swimming in no time. If the analogy fits.

“That would suck,” Hal agrees as he lets himself out of the car.

I follow him up to the house. It’s strange-looking because it’s so tall, but it does fit in with the neighborhood. That’s just Hal, though. Even as a super-rich guy, he wouldn’t want something that wasn’t some version of ordinary. That’s who he’ll always be. The kid who grew up with a mom who worked three jobs to provide for him, who worked his butt off as soon as he could, and who truly knew how to love because, at some point, it was all he had.

My stomach hurts when I think about that. I realize for the first time that I might resent the crap Sam and Hal did when they were younger, but I can’t resent it all. Just the worst of the pranks, the dates they messed up for me, that kind of thing. I don’t think I’ve ever resented Hal. Not as a person. Maybe I’ve never truly even disliked him at all.

Hal pulls open the door, and immediately, the sorriest-looking old tabby cat comes to greet us. I step in so the cat doesn’t dash outside, though dash might be giving the poor beast too much credit. She’s an old girl with one eye, a sagging body, and fur that has no luster. She shows every bit of her years and then about a hundred more. I remember Hal saying he got an older cat, but good lord, this one is so sad that she makes me want to scoop her up, hold her, feed her until she fills out, and tell her how much she’s going to be loved in the golden years of her life, all while assuring her there are still going to be many of those.