Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

Lindy makes a little snorting noise, and I smile down at her.

“Yeah, I know. He’ll probably come around. He has six months here, which is a long time. Usually, everyone learns to like it here within their first month. You’ll see.”

Lindy looks up at me as if she doesn’t believe me.

“I promise you’ll like it here. I know you don’t have a mama anymore, but we’re all here, ready to be your friends. I know they might not look like you, and they might even be a goat or a pig or a dog, but it’s okay, isn’t it? I love you, and I’m not a sheep. Things are going to get better.”

Lindy lays her head down in my lap, and my heart practically melts straight into all the other cavities in my chest. I can tell she started to really trust me last week, and it was like she just let me know she believes me. That one day, she’s going to grow into a beautiful, happy sheep who loves life and this place and has lots of other animal friends.

“I know he’s going to eat the lettuce wrap. He said he doesn’t like hummus and vegetables, but I could see him eyeing it up. He had a long flight, and he’s probably starving, but he’s too proud to admit it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were raiding the garden right now.” I pause. “I’m going to have to tell my parents about him. They don’t know anything about this yet, and they’re going to be worried. They already worry I’m not normal. No, that’s not right. They know I’m not normal, but that’s not why they worry. They worry about me being all alone, and when they find out I have a new roommate who is a guy, they’re not going to be happy.”

Lindy’s breathing is even and deep, like she’s gone to sleep. Her eyes are closed, so I lower my voice and start whisper-talking to her.

“Or maybe they will be. Maybe they’ll think, hallelujah, finally. Our daughter has a boyfriend. Except, he’s not my boyfriend. Oh, goodness, no. We would never make a good match. For one, he finds me repulsive. I can just tell. Two, he’s so far out of my league, at least financially. Well, okay, in other ways too. Three, well, he’s too good looking. Good looking guys are, well, I guess…I don’t know. I usually steer clear. And four, he’s insanely rich, and that’s just not my jam. That’s right. He’s rich and good looking, which adds up to being a serious stinker in most cases.”

I realize Lindy probably isn’t interested in what I think about men. I also shouldn’t be interested in what I think about men. I’m never interested in guys, and I don’t date. I’ve like, uh, dabbled—a little in high school and college. Gee, it sounds terrible. I mean, I guess I used to date. I learned pretty fast, though, after my Great Aunt died, that I couldn’t maintain most relationships and do this. It’s hard enough for me to find time for my friends with all my obligations here. But finding time to go on dates? Yeah right.

“I, uh, even if I had time, I probably wouldn’t date anyway. I just feel really old—an old soul. I haven’t met anyone that I felt like I was a good match with. Even with friends, it’s tough. I just have a few good ones, but they’re amazing, and having one or two great friends is better than having an army of people who don’t really care and won’t be there when you need them most. Maybe we’re not just old souls, Lindy. Maybe we’re more like—I don’t know—mismatched souls. Like we haven’t found that special connection yet. But that’s not true either. I’ve found lots with tons of the residents here. Just not with my own species. So I understand the issues you’re having here.”

I hesitate, but when Lindy doesn’t open her eyes, I go on.

“What’s he like?” I talk to myself.

Jeez, why are my nipples doing their hardening trick again when I think about Finn? This is just a platonic, boring old description of someone I’m forced to cohabitate with now. Forced meaning I agreed to it for the sake of my sanctuary, but also because it was important to a man I looked up to and considered a friend.

“He’s tall with broad shoulders. He kind of looks like a walking tree, but also a very real person. He’d probably have a nice smile, but maybe it would be too cocky. He doesn’t strike me that way, though. He looks serious, and his grandfather said he works really hard. I guess what he does makes some people happy—people who want to buy nice motorhomes and travel the world in them. I—I don’t know anything else about him. He comes off as insensitive, but I think it’s just because he’s really out of his element here, and he doesn’t like it. Yes, he’s a city slicker. It would be funny to watch him out here. Or make him dig potatoes. I know he’s not dumb, though, and he looks very athletic, so I’m sure he’d beat me at my own game.”