Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

“That’s…very…”

“Cynical? Jaded? True? All of the above?”

“Finn, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean it to come out like a retort the way it did. I was just…I was curious, and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Finn runs his hand over his chin. “It’s fine. It’s a legitimate question. Maybe I should take my own advice and write to her and tell her I wished she could have been around more when I was growing up, that I missed her like crazy, and also about how it would have been nice to have a mom. I could say that if she did want to fix our relationship, I’d be open to it because the missing her still outweighs the anger I feel.”

That’s very personal, and it’s not sarcastic or biting. It’s just put out there, the words—Finn’s voice never wavering—but obviously, it’s very, very sad, and it makes my heart hurt. It’s like Finn is speaking the words I’ve been trying to dredge up for so long. Words I’d say to my own grandparents.

I miss you. I wish you were around when I was growing up, and I still miss you. I still want to know you, I forgive you, and I do want to know you before it’s too late. All of that outweighs the anger I feel at what you did to my mom.

Finn sighs and stands up. It’s a treat watching him move, where every muscle and sinew comes together to tighten and unfurl in unison to make that simple motion happen. He’s far too graceful for someone who looks like he was built entirely out of spare granite straight from the chiseller’s workshop. He turns and stares out the window, which overlooks the front yard and the driveway with all that freshly mown grass.

“I’ve been thinking a flower bed would be nice out there. In the front.”

“It would be,” I whisper breathlessly. How the heck did we go from talking about serious family drama with all the dark clouds and black sheep to discussing flowers? “Except I don’t have the time, it would be an extra expense, and also, one of the animals would eat it, and some flowers are not good for consumption.”

“You could find ones that are. Seeds aren’t too expensive.”

I realize Finn will be gone in January, and he’ll never get to see the flower gardens. Or this place after that. Or me. I curl my hand around the velvety floral couch cushion, steeling myself against the sudden feeling of sadness and dread.

“You know what I think would be better than that?”

“What?” I know I shouldn’t ask because this feels like one of those really bad times when you pick wrong in a game of truth or dare.

Finn turns slowly, and there’s a shadow in his eyes that wasn’t there before—a shadow of humor, desire, and something which makes the room a thousand degrees warmer while also making me want to do something undignified. It would be more than thinking racy thoughts, for the record. That look can only be defined as smoldering, and it makes me smolder, too, especially in the lady regions. I hold my breath because the smoldering, dark, and sensual look can’t be for me. Me, who is currently wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of cut-off jean shorts that go down to my knees. Me, who is wearing no makeup and who doesn’t even own a single nice dress. Me, who is quite inexperienced in every lady-like charm department. Me, who was just knee-deep in manure a few hours ago. Me, who wears the perfume of a farmyard and not something expensive and bottled. Me, who compared his ass end to a pumpkin earlier. Which he obviously and totally freaking heard.

But no.

Because Finn’s mouth is moving, and he’s saying something. My ears are ringing, the room is narrowing, and the world seems to be grinding to a slow halt. For all I know, aliens are landing in the field out back, trying to beam up my cows. They’d find it quite a challenge, though, because no one takes my cows without a fight.

Finn’s lips are still moving, but finally, the ringing in my ears stops, and I can hear what he’s saying.

Clear as day.

I think he’s saying it to me because I’m the only one here. It’s not like Moobelle suddenly came charging into the house.

“I’d like to challenge your theory about kissing. Specifically, when it comes to me and who I like to kiss.”

CHAPTER 13

Finn

“My theory?” Becki gasps. True horror covers up her beautiful features, but my god, does she look alluring with her hair all wet from her shower. Her skin is painted a rich gold from the low riding, golden sun streaming in through the front windows, and her eyes are huge, twinkling twin stars. “Oh, fuzzy bananas!” she curses adorably. At least, I think it’s a curse. “You heard! You heard everything I said in the barn today, didn’t you?”