Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

CHAPTER 11

Finn

After answering emails and making calls all morning, I’m ready for a break, so I push away from my desk, stretch, and check the time.

I’m surprised to see it’s just after eleven—still early. Having worked non-stop all morning, I feel cramped and in need of a good workout. I’m not sure if Becki is ready for me yet, but I go out anyway and see if she needs any help.

I don’t see her around the yard, so I check the barn first. Most of the animals are outside. I can see the sheep, a horse, the donkey, and Little Missy off in the distance. The dog seems to come and go wherever he pleases, and he’s quite gentle. I don’t see the cow who licked my face, but there’s another cow out there munching grass, chewing cud, or whatever it’s called.

The day is warm with the full heat of an unrelenting August sun in Kansas beating down. I swear it never gets this hot in New York, but maybe I’m too used to sitting in the air conditioning all day. The house is heating up like it typically does during the daylight hours, and there isn’t any air in there. The upstairs gets stifling hot in the afternoon, another good reason for me to do my work in the morning. Maybe that’s why Becki put me up there—to melt me out. But I doubt it. She probably doesn’t even know the house gets hot because she’s never in there during the day.

I notice the grass is getting a little long all the way up and down the drive, and I’m going to ask Becki if I can get on the ride on mower—yes, I’ll die a little inside because she’ll have to show me how to use it and I’ll probably be bad at it, but I’m willing to try. I have to ask her everything else, so what’s one more thing going to do to my pride?

I step quietly into the barn when I hear Becki’s voice. She has such a pretty voice. I swear, she’d make a killing narrating audiobooks. Maybe in another life.

I don’t see her, but she’s clearly talking to one of her animals. She does that a lot. For some reason, I find it quite alluring. It’s just another thing that makes her unique. Some people would say they talk to their pets, but not the way Becki does.

She’s literally having a full-on conversation in there.

I know I should walk over and ask her about the grass or anything else she needs to get done, but when I hear my name, I stop dead in my tracks. I know it’s eavesdropping of the worst variety, but I press myself against the outside wall of the first stall and just listen.

“Finn is a pretty hard worker. I’m surprised. I mean not surprised, surprised because I mean, look at him. He’s built like a tank, and tanks are built for hard work, heavy-duty, labor, and all that. Yeah. Uh, well, he also looks like he’d be very good at sports, and he goes to the gym, so I’m sure the shoveling and weeding is nothing. What? I’m not objectifying him. Those are just facts. Oh no. No, Moobelle, you have it all wrong.”

Moobelle. The cow that licked me when I was upside down in the fence. That’s who Becki is talking to. Apparently, she’s just getting into it because she keeps going.

“I know I’m talking about him too much. I know that, but who else should I talk about? There’s no one else here, so he’s the most natural subject, and I was impressed yesterday. That’s all I’m saying. He’s efficient. We got more work done than I could ever dream of doing. The bottom line is that his bottom…”

Becki trails off, and I have to cover my mouth to keep from letting out a snort of amusement. There’s the old bottom entering into the conversation again. She doesn’t stop there but lets out a huge sigh that blows through the barn like a gust of air on a windy day.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Moobelle. You’re right. Of course you’re right. I imagine he’d be a good kisser because, of course, he would be. He probably kisses lots of women—pretty women and all sorts of women. Just not someone like me.”

Hearing her words makes me furious—not the assumption I’d kiss a lot of women, but the assumption that they wouldn’t look like Becki. In those words, she’s conveying that she thinks she’s not good enough, not pretty enough. It makes my blood boil, and I barely stop myself from rushing over there, wrapping my arms around her, and claiming her mouth. My body aches with the need to show her I want her.

The shock of my realization is the only thing that keeps me hidden. I can’t just rush over there and do that because it would just complicate things and make everything uncomfortable. I still have many months to spend here, and I want to do it as peacefully as possible. I don’t want Becki to hate me because if she did, she’d probably stuff poop in my shoes, or will it be fresh manure in my bed while I’m sleeping? Or even better yet, maybe toss my laptop outside into a big pile of poop.